I sat on my bed staring at the engagement ring I'd retrieved from the terrace stones, watching it catch the morning light as it lay in my palm. The five-carat diamond that had once represented all my dreams now looked like nothing more than an expensive piece of glass—beautiful, cold, and ultimately meaningless.
The sound of car doors slamming in the driveway told me that Blake and Victoria had finally left, probably to figure out how to spin this disaster to their families. Let them try. I was done being their convenient solution to inconvenient problems.
A sharp knock on my bedroom door interrupted my thoughts.
"Scarlett." Eleanor's voice was crisp, businesslike, with none of the maternal warmth she'd occasionally shown me over the years. "We need to talk. Downstairs. Now."
I set the ring on my nightstand and took a deep breath. Time to face the music.
Eleanor was waiting for me in Father's study, her silver hair pulled back in a severe chignon and her expression colder than I'd ever seen it. She'd changed from her morning robe into a tailored black suit that made her look like she was dressed for a funeral. How appropriate.
Father stood behind his massive mahogany desk, his face a mask of controlled anger. At sixty-two, Charles Winters was still an imposing man, and right now he looked like a CEO about to fire an incompetent employee.
Victoria sat in one of the leather chairs facing the desk, her eyes red from crying but her posture defiant. She'd changed into jeans and a sweater, looking younger and more vulnerable than she had in her silk robe. But I wasn't fooled by the innocent act anymore.
"Sit," Eleanor commanded, gesturing to the chair next to Victoria.
I remained standing. "I'd prefer to stand, thank you."
Father's jaw tightened. "Scarlett, sit down. We have a serious situation to discuss."
"Yes, we do," I agreed. "Your daughter has been having an affair with my fiancé for two years, and nobody thought to mention it to me. I'd say that's pretty serious."
"Victoria has explained the situation," Eleanor said coolly. "And while we don't approve of the methods, we understand the complications involved."
I stared at her. "Complications? Is that what we're calling betrayal and adultery now?"
"We're calling it an unfortunate situation that has arisen due to matters of the heart," Father said, his business tone making my skin crawl. "These things happen in arranged marriages—"
"Arranged marriage?" I interrupted. "Is that what you think this was?"
Eleanor and Charles exchanged a look that made my stomach drop.
"Scarlett," Eleanor said with the patience one might use with a particularly slow child, "surely you didn't think your relationship with Blake was purely coincidental?"
The room seemed to tilt sideways. "What do you mean?"
"The Morrisons and the Winters family have been discussing a potential alliance for years," Father explained, settling into his chair like he was giving a board presentation. "When you and Blake began dating in college, it seemed like providence. Two young people from compatible families, falling in love naturally."
"But it wasn't natural, was it?" I said quietly, pieces of a horrible puzzle beginning to fit together.
"Blake's initial interest in you was... encouraged," Eleanor admitted. "We may have arranged for certain introductions, created opportunities for you to spend time together. But his feelings developed genuinely."
I felt like I was going to be sick. "You set us up."
"We facilitated a beneficial relationship," Father corrected. "One that would have been advantageous for both families."
"Would have been?" I focused on his past tense. "What changed?"
Another loaded look between my parents.
"Blake and Victoria's... attachment... changes things," Eleanor said carefully. "It's not ideal, but it's not insurmountable either."
"What do you mean?"
Victoria finally spoke up, her voice small but determined. "Blake and I want to be together, Scarlett. Really together. And our families think... they think maybe that could work too."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "You want to marry Blake instead of me."
"The merger between Morrison Holdings and Winters Industries can proceed regardless of which daughter marries the Morrison heir," Father said clinically. "The important thing is maintaining the family alliance."
I looked between them—these people who had raised me, claimed to love me, called themselves my family—and felt something inside me die.
"So I'm interchangeable," I said flatly. "It doesn't matter which Winters daughter Blake marries, as long as your business deal goes through."
"That's not how we would put it," Eleanor said, but her tone suggested that's exactly how she would put it.
"How would you put it?"
Eleanor stood up and walked to the window, her posture rigid. "You're twenty-eight years old, Scarlett. You're intelligent, educated, reasonably attractive. You'll find someone else."
Reasonably attractive. Like I was a piece of merchandise being evaluated for resale value.
"And if I don't want to find someone else? If I want to fight for Blake?"
Victoria's head snapped up, fear flashing in her eyes.
"That would be inadvisable," Father said firmly. "Blake has made his choice clear. Pursuing him further would only result in embarrassment for everyone involved."
"Embarrassment for who? Me, or your precious business deal?"
"For all of us," Eleanor said, turning back to face me. "Scarlett, you need to be practical about this. Blake doesn't love you the way he loves Victoria. Surely you can see that continuing this engagement would be a mistake."
"So you're taking her side."
"We're taking the family's side," Father corrected. "Victoria is our biological daughter. She's the future of the Winters legacy. Her happiness has to be our priority."
There it was. The truth I'd always known but never wanted to acknowledge. Victoria was their real daughter. I was just the charity case they'd taken in, useful when it served their purposes, expendable when it didn't.
"What about my happiness?" I asked quietly.
Eleanor's laugh was cold. "Your happiness? Scarlett, you've had seven years of happiness with Blake. You've lived in luxury, attended the finest schools, been accepted into the highest levels of society. I'd say you've been quite happy enough."
The dismissal in her tone made my hands clench into fists. "You think I should be grateful."
"I think you should be realistic," she replied. "You came to us with nothing. We gave you everything. A home, a family, an education, a place in society that you never could have achieved on your own. And now you're throwing a tantrum because things didn't work out exactly as you'd hoped?"
"A tantrum?" My voice was rising despite my efforts to stay calm. "My fiancé has been cheating on me with my sister for two years, and you're calling my reaction a tantrum?"
"I'm calling it ungrateful," Eleanor said sharply. "You were never going to inherit Winters Industries, Scarlett. You were never going to be Charles's heir. Marriage to Blake was your chance to secure your future, and you've thrown it away over wounded pride."
"Over betrayal," I corrected. "Over lies and manipulation and the fact that apparently none of you ever saw me as anything more than a useful tool."
"You are useful," Father said matter-of-factly. "Or rather, you were. But circumstances have changed, and we need to adapt accordingly."
"What does that mean?"
Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair, but Eleanor's expression remained coldly determined.
"It means that Blake and Victoria will be announcing their engagement next month," Eleanor said. "The merger will proceed as planned, just with a different bride."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "Next month? You're not even going to wait for the scandal to die down?"
"What scandal?" Eleanor asked with feigned innocence. "As far as society knows, you and Blake had an amicable parting. Young people change their minds all the time. Victoria and Blake's whirlwind romance will be seen as romantic, not scandalous."
"And what about me in this fairy tale rewrite?"
"You'll be fine," Father said dismissively. "You're young, you have your trust fund—"
"What trust fund?"
Another pause. Another exchanged look.
"Scarlett," Eleanor said carefully, "you were adopted. You're not a biological Winters heir. There was never going to be a trust fund."
The room spun around me. "But you said... all these years, you said I'd be provided for—"
"And you have been," Father interrupted. "We've fed you, clothed you, educated you, given you every advantage. But our biological child comes first when it comes to inheritance. Surely you understand that."
I understood, all right. I understood that I'd spent eighteen years believing I was their daughter, only to discover I was more like a well-treated employee whose contract had just been terminated.
"So what happens to me now?" I asked, proud that my voice remained steady.
Eleanor shrugged, as if my future was of minimal interest to her. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You're resourceful."
"I have no money, no job, nowhere to live—"
"You have your college degree," Father pointed out. "And we'll provide a modest severance, of course. Enough to get you settled somewhere."
Severance. Like I was being laid off from a job rather than disowned by my family.
"How much is modest?" I asked.
"Fifty thousand," Eleanor said. "More than generous for someone in your position."
Fifty thousand dollars. To start a new life after twenty-eight years of believing I was an heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire.
"I see," I said quietly. "And when do I need to be out?"
"Today would be preferable," Eleanor said, checking her watch. "We need to begin damage control immediately, and your presence here will only make things more difficult."
Today. They wanted me gone today.
I looked around the study that had been like a second home to me, where I'd done homework at Father's desk, where Eleanor had taught me how to write thank-you notes and plan charity events. The family portraits on the walls showed three generations of Winters family members, but I realized now that I wasn't in any of them. I'd never really belonged here.
"What about my things?"
"Pack what you can carry," Father said. "We'll have the rest sent to you once you've settled somewhere."
Once I'd settled somewhere. As if I was going on vacation rather than being expelled from the only family I'd ever known.
Victoria finally looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. "Scarlett, I'm sorry. I never wanted it to happen this way—"
"But you're not sorry enough to give him up," I said flatly.
She fell silent, which was answer enough.
I turned back to Eleanor and Father, these people who had raised me and were now discarding me like an old piece of furniture.
"I have one question," I said calmly.
"What?" Eleanor asked impatiently.
"Did you ever love me? Even a little bit?"
The question hung in the air between us. I watched Eleanor's face, looking for some hint of maternal affection, some sign that the last eighteen years hadn't been completely meaningless.
"Love is a luxury we can't afford in situations like this," she said finally. "We did our duty by you, Scarlett. We gave you more than most orphans could ever dream of. That should be enough."
That should be enough. The words of a woman who saw charity as a transaction rather than an act of compassion.
"I see," I said quietly. "Well, thank you for clarifying where I stand."
I turned and walked toward the door, but Father's voice stopped me.
"Scarlett."
I looked back.
"I trust you'll be discreet about the family's private matters," he said. "It wouldn't be wise to spread gossip or make accusations. The Winters name has considerable power in this city."
It was a threat, thinly veiled but unmistakable. Keep quiet, or face the consequences.
"Of course," I said. "Wouldn't want to damage the family reputation."
As I walked upstairs to pack my life into suitcases, I could hear them talking in low voices—probably planning Victoria and Blake's engagement announcement, figuring out how to spin the story to make it look like a romantic fairy tale rather than a cruel betrayal.
My room looked exactly the same as it had that morning, but everything felt different now. The photographs of Blake and me seemed to mock me from their silver frames. The jewelry he'd given me over the years felt like evidence of an elaborate lie. Even my books and artwork—things that were truly mine—felt tainted by the knowledge that they'd been purchased with money from people who'd never really wanted me.
I packed quickly and efficiently, taking only what I could fit in two suitcases. Clothes, toiletries, a few sentimental items, and my laptop. Everything else—the expensive jewelry, the designer shoes, the art I'd collected—could stay. I didn't want anything that reminded me of this place or these people.
As I closed the suitcases, my phone rang. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Miss Winters? This is James Chen from the New York Times. I understand there may have been some developments regarding your engagement to Blake Morrison?"
My blood ran cold. The press had gotten wind of the story already.
"No comment," I said quickly, hanging up.
But the phone rang again immediately. Another reporter. Then another.
By the time I made it downstairs with my suitcases, three news vans were parked outside the mansion. Photographers were already taking pictures through the windows.
Eleanor appeared in the foyer, her face furious. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I said truthfully. "Someone must have seen Blake and Victoria together, or maybe one of the staff overheard something."
"This is a disaster," she hissed. "The phones are ringing off the hook."
"Then you'd better start practicing your damage control speeches," I said, hefting my suitcases.
"Where will you go?" Victoria asked from the stairs, still in her tear-stained clothes.
I looked up at her—this woman who'd been my sister for eighteen years, who'd shared Christmas mornings and family vacations and a thousand small moments that I'd thought meant something.
"Somewhere you'll never find me," I said.
I walked out of the Winters mansion for the last time, pushing through the crowd of reporters who shouted questions I didn't answer. The photographers' flashes felt like lightning strikes, but I kept my head high and my expression composed.
As my taxi pulled away from the only home I'd ever known, I pulled out my phone and looked at the single number I'd memorized but never called.
Katherine Morrison—Blake's estranged sister who'd moved to London after a falling-out with their father. She'd given me her number at a family dinner two years ago, saying that family politics were complicated and sometimes people needed allies.
I'd thought she was just being dramatic at the time. Now I understood exactly what she'd meant.
But before I could make that call, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number:
"Saw the news. Sorry for your loss. If you need help starting over, I know people who specialize in new beginnings. - A friend"
I stared at the message, my heart racing. Who would send something like that? And how had they gotten my number?
As the taxi merged into Manhattan traffic, carrying me away from my old life toward an uncertain future, I made a silent vow.
Blake Morrison and Victoria Winters had destroyed my life because they thought I was weak, that I would just accept their betrayal and fade quietly into the background.
Eleanor and Charles Winters had discarded me because they thought I was powerless, that I had no choice but to be grateful for their charity.
They were all about to learn how wrong they were.
I might not have money or family or a home, but I had something more valuable: I had nothing left to lose.
And that made me very, very dangerous.