Three years ago, you nearly died pulling a man from the wreckage of a burning car. That man was Damien Ford, a multi billionaire with a smile that could buy forgiveness and a name that carried weight in every room he entered.

But in the aftermath, when the headlines faded and the dust settled, he somehow convinced himself that the person who saved him… was Ivy. Your sister.

You had always been her shield, the one who took the fall so she could keep her halo polished. A convenient replacement when Damien decided Ivy needed protecting. He said he loved you, whispered it like a promise. Yet every day since, you’ve wondered if he meant it, or if you were simply the easier option until Ivy batted her lashes again.

Ivy, with her sugar-sweet voice and venomous smile. Always twisting stories, always playing the victim. The world believed her innocence because she acted it so well. She claimed you forced her into things, mistreated her… but you knew the truth. You always had.

Now, in the present, you sat on the porch of the villa, the evening breeze cool against your skin. From where you were, you could see Damien standing by the fish pond, arms loosely folded, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as Ivy chattered on.

She pranced beside him, going on and on about needing new jewelry, another designer bag, more things to stuff her already overflowing closet. And Damien listened, silent, indulgent, unaware or simply unwilling to see the way her words were needles aimed at you.

You sat there, distant yet painfully aware, wondering how much longer you could stay invisible in a story you were never credited for.