Anna sat in the room, dumbstruck, her prediction clawing at her chest with cruel accuracy.
It hadn't even taken time.
She was back in the very same room she had fled from—but the difference now was striking. The man who had promised her parents he would take her out for breakfast was nowhere to be seen.
Daniel had dropped her off like discarded luggage and left for work without so much as a glance. Not a word. Not an explanation.
And Anna… she hadn't eaten a single bite since yesterday. He had rejected her parents' offer of breakfast, and now here she sat, empty and hollow, her stomach aching as much as her pride.
"Argh!" Her fists clenched in her lap, her voice breaking with frustration. "Why the hell did I even believe him?"
For one fleeting moment, she had thought—foolishly—that Daniel might have meant what he said. That he would at least follow through with the pretense of civility in front of her parents.
But no. She should have known better.
Her heart twisted at the bitter truth: she had let herself be fooled again. She had let him drag her away when she should have stayed, should have fought harder to sit at that breakfast table with her parents instead of falling into his trap.
Now she was here. Alone. Hungry. Shut away in a house that felt more like a cage than a home.
And worst of all—
She felt stupid for ever letting herself believe Daniel Clafford could be true to his words.
While Anna was still cursing him in her head, a sudden knock on the door startled her.
"Madam," a familiar voice called softly. It was Mariam.
Anna drew a deep breath, composing herself before responding. "Come in."
The door opened and Mariam entered, pushing a food trolley in front of her.
"Master said you didn't have your breakfast," she explained gently. "So he asked me to prepare something of your liking."
Anna's brows knit in surprise. Her gaze shifted from the trolley to Mariam, uncertain.
It wasn't the food that shocked her—it was the claim that Daniel had thought of her at all.
Anna remembered clearly: despite Daniel's constant indifference, Mariam had always looked after her. The kind old woman had been her only anchor in this house, patiently guiding her, helping her understand Daniel's routines, even teaching her how to cook.
But when Daniel refused to taste anything Anna had made, Mariam's disappointment had mirrored her own. Sometimes, to ease the sting of rejection, Mariam would even lie and present Anna's cooking as her own just so Daniel would eat it.
The memory made Anna's chest ache.
"Mariam," Anna said quietly, her eyes soft but knowing, "are you sure it was your Master who asked you to bring me breakfast?"
For a fleeting moment, Mariam's expression stiffened.
Anna let out a heavy, humorless chuckle. "You don't have to lie. I know very well—Daniel doesn't even know what I like or dislike."
Her tone wasn't bitter, just tired. Tired of expecting, tired of hoping.
Mariam hesitated, lips parting as though to argue, but in the end she said nothing. She only lowered her gaze respectfully.
Anna offered a faint smile and reached for a plate. "It doesn't matter. I'm grateful either way."
She began to eat. The breakfast was simple, nothing extravagant, yet after so long it felt like a feast. She ate slowly, cautiously, aware of every bite. Old habits lingered—how she had learned to skip meals, to control portions, always afraid of gaining weight, always reminded of how unworthy she appeared in other people's eyes.
But hunger won. And for the first time since yesterday, she felt a small, fleeting sense of relief.
When she finally set the fork down, Mariam stepped forward to gather the dishes. She was about to leave when Anna's voice stopped her.
"Thank you, Mariam," Anna said softly, sincerity coating every word. "And… I'm sorry if I made you worry."
The older woman turned back, her kind eyes glistening. She gave a gentle bow of her head.
"You don't have to apologize to me, Madam," Mariam said warmly. "Just… take care of yourself. That's all I ask."
Anna's lips trembled into a faint, fragile smile. For now, Mariam was the only person in this mansion she could trust—the only one who truly saw her.
And that small comfort was all she had to cling to.
Once Mariam was gone, silence settled heavily over the room. Anna lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts spiraled.
Her parents' voices still echoed in her ears, firm and unyielding, dismissing her plea for divorce as though her suffering were nothing but an inconvenience.
She should have known. Nothing had changed in this life. Not her parents' blind allegiance to Daniel, not their disregard for her feelings.
But this time, she wasn't going to bow to their will.
In her past life, she had been weak—obedient, desperate for approval, swallowing her pain while convincing herself things would get better if she just endured. She had listened to every word her parents told her, bending until she broke.
Not this time.
This time, she would not let her heart be swayed. Not by her parents' pressure. And certainly not by Daniel.
Because Daniel's heart… it was never hers to begin with.
Her breath hitched, her chest tightening.
It belonged to Kathrine.
The thought of her sister slammed into Anna like a storm, dragging her upright. She sat on the bed, her pulse racing, her lips parting in a mix of shock and sudden, dangerous amusement.
Of course.
Daniel would never let her go willingly. But if Kathrine returned… if Kathrine stood before him again, Anna knew exactly what would happen.
His obsession, his anger, his coldness—they would all shift back to the woman who had truly claimed his heart.
And Anna?
She would finally be free.
Her lips curved, almost trembling as she whispered the words aloud, as though saying them would make the idea real.
"Of course… I can end this marriage if I find Kathrine."
The thought burned through her like wildfire, reckless yet intoxicating. For the first time since her return to this cursed house, Anna felt a glimmer of power flicker inside her chest.
She had a way out.
And it began with finding her sister.
"But wait… I can't just run off without any support."
Anna froze mid-thought, reality crashing down on her. Finding Kathrine wasn't going to be as simple as finding a forgotten bra shoved under her bed.
She needed money. Resources. A way to move without anyone pulling her back by the leash.
And with her parents already against her, funds were going to be harder to secure than freedom itself.
"Jesus," she muttered, flopping back against the pillows. "Why is it so damn hard to get money even when you're born rich?"
The irony stung. All her life she had been provided for, every need met before she even thought to ask—but none of it had ever been hers. Not really. Every dress, every jewel, every privilege had been tied to someone else's expectations, someone else's control.
And because of that, she had never truly thought of earning for herself. Never thought of what she wanted, what her dreams could have been—because why bother, when her family decided everything for her?
Now, regret pressed down on her chest like a weight.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room, and memories stirred.
She remembered the way she used to watch Kathrine—the perfect daughter, the dazzling beauty, the kind of woman who commanded every man's attention without trying. Kathrine's charm, her aura, her confidence—everything about her seemed untouchable.
And then there was Anna. Fat. Awkward. Ugly in comparison. Always overshadowed, yet still quietly nursing dreams too fragile to ever speak aloud.
Dreams like becoming an actress.
She had wanted it once—desperately. To be seen, to be admired, to step out from behind her sister's glow. But she had lacked the confidence, lacked the courage to push for it. So she had buried that dream beneath obedience and silence.
But now?
Now it struck her like lightning.
It wasn't too late.
She was twenty-three—still young, still alive. And yes, a little fat. But who cared? If chasing her dream of acting gave her the independence she needed—if it gave her the means to find Kathrine without her parents or Daniel suspecting—then it was worth it.
Her lips curled into a shaky smile, the first flicker of determination igniting in her chest.
"Yes," she whispered fiercely, her voice steadying as though declaring it to herself. "That's the only way. I'll pursue my dream, make something of myself… and then I'll find Kathrine."
Her eyes hardened, a dangerous glint shining within them.
"And once I bring her back to Daniel… this marriage will finally end."
Anna was over the moon, her heart pounding with the thrill of a plan finally forming. For once, she had a path forward, a way to escape this suffocating cage of a marriage.
But just as quickly as the hope had risen, it withered. Her smile faded in the blink of an eye.
How am I supposed to convince Daniel to let me work?
The thought struck her like lightning, harsh and merciless.
Daniel Clafford—her jailer, her so-called husband—would never allow it. This was the man who caged her in a room as though she were property, who dragged her away from her parents without a word of explanation. Expecting him to let her step into the world on her own terms was madness.
Her nails dug into the sheets as she groaned in frustration.
"Argh… Daniel Clafford, why can't you just leave me alone?"
Across the city, in the midst of a boardroom, Daniel choked on the silence that suddenly gripped him.
The presentation halted as every eye turned to him.
"Boss?" Henry's concerned voice broke through, his hand already reaching out.
But Daniel lifted a hand sharply, stopping him. His face remained composed, but the slight hitch hadn't gone unnoticed. With clipped calm, he gestured for the manager to continue.
He sat back, eyes on the charts being projected on the screen, but his mind was far from the numbers.
It was her.
Anna.
Her words from that morning replayed like an echo that refused to die. Her voice, sharp with defiance. Her eyes, burning with hatred.
Hatred.
The one thing he hadn't expected from her.
It was supposed to be the other way around. He was the one wronged, the one who should have despised her and her family. Yet when she looked at him, it was as though he was the villain in her story.
And the sting of it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
For another hour, the meeting dragged on, every detail lost to the storm brewing in his head. By the time it ended, Daniel rose abruptly, concluding in a clipped tone before striding out of the boardroom.
Henry Wang hurried to keep pace, his steps quick and cautious as they entered Daniel's office.
The air was heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Daniel shrugged out of his blazer, tossing it carelessly onto the couch before lowering himself into his chair. His hands tightened into fists against the armrests, his jaw clenched.
He had walked into that meeting ready to dictate the future of his empire.
And yet all he could think about was the fire in Anna's eyes—fire that was no longer desperation or longing.
It was defiance.
It was hate.
And for reasons he refused to admit even to himself, it made his chest ache like an old wound he had never noticed until she carved it open.
"I want you to send a proper meal to the mansion," Daniel said, his voice even as he flipped open a file on the desk.
Henry blinked, momentarily thrown off. His boss rarely bothered with trivial instructions, especially about meals. He hesitated, studying Daniel carefully.
"Are you… going home for lunch, sir?" Henry asked cautiously.
It wouldn't have surprised him if Daniel refused to eat at all—he had seen it countless times. His boss worked like a machine, running on nothing but coffee and sheer willpower. The idea of him suddenly caring about food seemed absurd.
But Daniel's reply shattered his assumption.
"No." The file snapped shut with a sharp, final sound. His gaze lifted, cool and unreadable, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly.
"That meal is for my wife."
Henry froze. The words hung in the air, unfamiliar, unsettling. For years he had worked under Daniel Clafford, and not once had he heard him speak of a woman with such deliberate intention.
It wasn't affection—no, Daniel's tone was far too controlled for that. But there was something beneath it. Something Henry couldn't quite place.