CHAPTER ONE: THE HEIRESS AND HER SHAME
I was born with everything, wealth, beauty, and a last name that unlocked any door.
*Ravenwood*.
People bowed when they heard it. They smiled too wide, nodded too fast.
I was the first daughter of Richard Ravenwood billionaire magnate, philanthropist, and the man whose left an empire behind after his death.
And tonight, I turned twenty-three.
My birthday was hosted in the grand hall of the Novadale Royal Hotel. The crystal chandeliers sparkled like they were celebrating me, the orchestra played a private score, and every guest wore smiles they didn't mean.
I wore a gown imported from Versalune soft ivory silk wrapped in pearls. It clung to my body like a second skin, but still managed to look innocent. That was how my stepmother, Delysia, liked me to look: perfect, untouched, polished like one of her diamond brooches.
But more than anything… obedient.
Beside me stood my husband, Zarek. Tall. Handsome. Well-mannered.
The man who never once tried to touch me beyond a kiss on the cheek, despite our two-year marriage.
"I want us to grow close first," he told me. "Trust. Then intimacy."
I had been grateful. I thought it was sweet.
How foolish I was.
I thought I had everything.
I didn't know I was about to lose it all.
Alora, my stepsister, was unusually giddy that night. She twirled around in her midnight-blue dress, her red lips curling as she clinked her glass against mine.
"To the most perfect sister alive," she toasted. "Your real surprise is waiting upstairs. A real admirer. I arranged something special."
I hesitated. "What kind of surprise?"
She leaned in, whispering in my ear, "Just trust me, Rina. This is the night your life will truly change."
It did.
But not in the way she made it sound.
The wine she gave me was stronger than anything I'd ever tasted.
My vision blurred as I entered the penthouse suite.
I remember the room spinning. The scent of old cigar smoke, dusty leather, and something else… something sour.
There was a man in the shadows. Slouched in a chair. Wearing a tattered coat, his hair long and unkempt. His eyes gleamed under the low light like he hadn't slept in years.
I backed away, alarmed.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Just stood slowly, his boots scraping against the marble floor.
"You're her, aren't you?" he muttered. "The little princess."
I turned to leave, panic rising in my throat, but the door had already clicked shut behind me. Locked.
"No" I gasped, stumbling.
My head pounded. My knees buckled.
I remember trying to scream.
I remember the rough hands.
The smell of whiskey.
The pain.
The humiliation.
And then… darkness.
When I woke, it was morning.
I was alone. Naked.
The first thing I felt was the pounding in my skull.
The second was the strange softness of silk sheets against my bare skin.
I opened my eyes and froze.
The other side of the bed was empty, but the pillow still held the faintest dip, as if someone had just been there. My chest tightened.
I clutched the sheet to my body and forced myself to look down.
That's when I saw them.
Dark bruises trailed down my collarbone and neck — hickeys. My breath caught. My dress was in a crumpled heap on the floor, my purse turned upside down, lipstick rolling under the nightstand like it was mocking me.
I touched my throat as if I could wipe the marks away, erase the evidence of whatever had happened.
But I couldn't remember.
I couldn't remember his face.
I couldn't remember his voice.
I couldn't even remember saying yes.
Just fragments — strong arms, heat, the sound of a laugh that didn't feel like mine.
My stomach twisted violently. I swallowed hard, fighting the sting of tears.
"God… what have I done?" I whispered, my voice breaking in the empty room.
My dress torn and discarded on the edge of the bed. My body sore in ways that terrified me.
I sat there for a long time, silent tears slipping down my cheeks, my mind blank.
How could this be happening?
I pulled on my ripped gown and left the room, dragging my shame with me.
Downstairs, the music had stopped. The guests were gone. Only my stepmother, Zarek, and Alora remained.
They stood in a small circle, sipping champagne and laughing.
When they saw me, their laughter didn't stop.
It grew.
"Look who finally shows up," Alora said, her voice sugary. "Did your little adventure wear you out?"
Zarek didn't even look guilty.
He didn't rush to me.
Didn't ask what happened.
Instead, he said, "I hope your night was… memorable, Rina."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"I.....someone" My voice cracked. "Someone was in that room. He....he hurt me…"
"Oh Rina," Delysia said with a sigh, as if I was a child complaining about a paper cut. "You embarrassed yourself enough already. Don't add lies to your shame."
"She slept with a beggar, mother," Alora said mockingly. "I had no idea she'd actually go through with it. Disgusting."
Zarek added coldly, "You've ruined the Ravenwood name. Our marriage is over. You'll be hearing from my lawyers."
"But… I never...." I could barely speak.
"You were seen," Delysia snapped. "Your drunken body in his arms. Caught on camera. You are no daughter of mine."
That day, I was stripped of everything.
They froze my bank accounts.
They took my shares in the family business.
My name, my title, my husband, my innocence,all gone.
I left that mansion with nothing but a small purse, torn clothes, and the bitter taste of betrayal.
No one believed me.
Not the press.
Not the police.
Not even the staff who once called me "Miss Rina" with reverence.
And for the first time in my life, I had no one.
That night, standing at the edge of the Pellery Bridge, I looked down at the black river swirling below me.
Cold wind lashed my face.
Maybe it was better this way.
Maybe if I jumped… the pain would stop.
Maybe…
"Rina?" a voice called behind me. Familiar. Gentle.
I turned slowly.
It was Liora. My high school friend.
She looked shocked, horrified, and then… she ran to me, pulling me back from the ledge.
And in her arms, for the first time in days, I cried.
Not like a lady.
Not like an heiress.
But like a broken girl who had lost everything.