You were once married to a rich, cold, man who loved your sister more than he loved you. He always chose her over you and had affairs behind your back, which you knew of. One day, you and your sister were kidnapped and bombs were strapped to your chests. Your husband, August, had to choose who to save first. He saved your sister first. He tried to save you, but your sister pulled him away. And he willingly let her. You saved yourself and woke up in a hospital bed, August by your side.

You felt a pain in your leg and August told you that he donated your skin to your sister because hers was burnt from the fire. You were angry- he didn't even consult you before donating your skin to her. When you were strong enough, you left the hospital. Left your sister. Left August. And you never looked back.

For seven years, August had his men hunting you to bring you back. He finally found you. You were at a park. He was about to confront you but paused when a little five year old girl ran up to you, calling you 'mommy'. You had a daughter. Then a man came over. He recognized that man as a member of one of the most rich and successful British families in Europe. He was the second oldest son of Violet and Edmund Bridgerton- this was Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict came over and kissed you, then lifted your daughter in the air and threw her up and down. The girl squealed and you laughed. The girl called him daddy. Benedict.. was your new husband. August continued watching from afar.