(Come home for dinner.)
The message came late in the afternoon. Loretta had just finished a meeting with a client, and her head ached.
She stared at her phone for a long time, looking at the sender. It was indeed from her mom.
A family dinner?
Her lips pressed together. It had been more than two years since her mother last invited her home—two years of silence, cold calls, and short replies. Now, suddenly… dinner?
Something was wrong.
Loretta could tell. Her mother never showed any warmth unless she wanted something from her.
She dropped her phone and focused on her work. What would come would come. After work, she decided to head back for dinner. She knew her mom—whether she showed up or not, it would not change a thing.
Loretta drove back in silence. Many possible reasons crossed her mind about why her mother would call her back this time, but none made sense.
Arriving at the house, the maid welcomed her with a smile.
Loretta looked around.
Not much had changed—a few decorations here and there, but it was still the same.
Big, quiet, and beautiful.
But to Loretta, it had never felt like home.
She stepped inside, and the smell of food filled the air. Her mother was in the dining room, setting the table.
"Mom," Loretta called softly.
Her mother turned, a smile on her face. "You're here. Sit down."
That smile did not reach her eyes.
Loretta's chest tightened, but she sat. Whenever her mother smiled like that, it meant what she wanted was not simple.
"Dad," she greeted her stepfather.
Her mother had married him when she was three, and Mr. Gladstone had officially adopted her, allowing her to bear his surname.
Her mother always used this to pressure Loretta to be grateful.
"To be known as the daughter of the Gladstone family is an honor," she would say.
"Loretta, how are you doing, dear?" he asked.
He was kind and polite, as usual. He had never done anything to harm her. On the surface, he treated her the same as his daughter Isabella. Even if he was biased sometimes, Loretta could understand that—but not her mother's attitude; it never added up.
"I am fine," Loretta answered.
"Good. I have seen your report from the branch office. Keep up the excellent work," Mr. Gladstone said.
Loretta simply nodded.
To be honest, she had never wanted to work in a company owned by the Gladstone family. She was intelligent and had received several offers after graduation—better offers. But her mother said using her talent to help a rival company would be ungrateful.
After all, they had paid for her education.
So she took the job.
Yet after just three months, the story changed. It became about how the Gladstone family had been too good to her—giving her a job right after graduation.
Meanwhile, Isabella, who had graduated with a lower GPA, got a better position.
"Sister," Isabella said with a smile from beside their mother.
Loretta nodded, but she noticed something—Isabella's fingers were gripping the edge of her dress. There was also a bandage around her head.
"What happened to you?" Loretta asked, trying not to sound too cold.
Isabella lowered her head.
"Let's eat first," her mother cut in.
After that, no one spoke.
The silence felt heavy.
They ate in silence.
After dinner, they moved to the sitting room. Mrs. Gladstone sat beside Loretta.
"As you can see, your sister was involved in an accident two days ago. She almost lost her life. She is still traumatized by the experience," she began.
Loretta looked at her. She could already tell her mother was going to ask for something.
"The accident was your sister's fault. She was entertaining a few clients and became drunk—"
As she spoke, Loretta began to imagine a scene from a movie where one sister went to jail for the other.
"I will not go to jail in place of anyone," Loretta cut in before her mother could finish.
Mrs. Gladstone paused. She had not expected such a reaction.
"No one is going to jail," she said, shaking her head.
Hearing that, Loretta breathed a sigh of relief.
But it was too soon.
"You just have to marry in your sister's place."
The words fell like a stone.
Loretta froze.
For a moment, she thought she heard wrong.
"…What?"
Her mother's face hardened. "You heard me. You are just getting married. Why are you acting like you are being forced to drink poison?"
Loretta let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
"Why? Isabella is the one who caused the trouble. Why should I be the one to marry?"
Even without hearing the full story, Loretta guessed the accident must have left the man seriously injured. In exchange for not suing, they probably wanted Isabella to marry him. Those involved in business always cared about profits. She could guess this much—after all, with the Gladstone standing, not anyone could pressure them easily.
"You are her elder sister. It is only right that you marry in her place," Mrs. Gladstone said.
"I will not marry a disabled man in her place. She could have called a driver," Loretta stated.
Mrs. Gladstone looked at her. "Who said anything about a disabled man?"
She raised her brows.
A chill ran down Loretta's spine.
If her mother wanted her to marry in her sister's place… then something was very wrong.
"Who?" Loretta asked quietly.
Her mother's eyes met hers.
"Kevin Goodman."
The room went cold.
Loretta felt her blood freeze.
Everyone knew that name.
Kevin Goodman.
The cursed man.
Two wives—dead within a week. A fiancée—dead on the day of their engagement.
To be with him… was to die.
Loretta slowly turned back to her mother, her voice shaking.
"So… you want me to marry him?"
"Yes."
That single word cut deep.
"You want me to die in her place?"
"Don't say it like that," her mother replied.
"Then how should I say it?" Loretta shot back. "You're sending me to a man everyone believes is cursed to kill his wife!"
"Watch your words!" her mother snapped.
Then she softened her voice, though it still lacked warmth.
"You can't believe in baseless rumors. What happened to the women before was pure accident," she said.
"Well, if it is so baseless, why not let Isabella marry him?" Loretta asked.
"Your sister is still young. She can't throw her life away."
Something inside Loretta broke.
Young?
She let out a bitter laugh.
"I'm only half a year older than her."
Silence.
Of course, that had never mattered.
Not when they needed her to give in.
Not when they needed her to sacrifice.
Loretta looked at Isabella.
Her stepsister.
The one who did not even share her mother's blood.
Yet she was always the one chosen.
Growing up, Loretta had often wondered if this woman was truly her mother.
The way she was treated… it never felt like it.
When she turned eighteen, she secretly did a DNA test.
She still remembered the result.
Mother and daughter.
She had laughed that day.
Not because she was happy.
But because it made no sense.
The one who shared no blood with her mother was Isabella.
Yet Isabella was the one loved.
Protected, and chosen—always. Loretta swallowed hard.
"So this is why you called me back," she said slowly. "Not because you missed me." Even though she had expected it, a part of her had hoped she was wrong.
Her mother said nothing.
That silence was her answer.
Loretta stood up, her movements slow but firm.
"I won't do it."
"You don't have a choice," her mother said coldly.
Fear rose in Loretta's chest—but it quickly turned into anger. She was no longer a child.
"I do," she said firmly. "And my answer is no." She refused to keep giving in to her mother.
"You will marry him."
"No."
The word echoed in the room.
Even Isabella flinched. Mr. Gladstone looked at the mother and daughter. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something but remained quiet.
"For once," Loretta said, her voice low, "let her face the consequences of what she did."
"How dare you—"
"So what if I dare?" Loretta snapped, her voice breaking. "I am your daughter too!"
"And I wish you were not," her mother replied, her gaze filled with resentment.
Although she had never treated Loretta well, this was the first time she said it out loud.
Silence followed.
Deep. Painful.
Tears burned in Loretta's eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"Why?" she asked.
It was the question she had carried in her heart for years.
Mrs. Gladstone looked away. "It is just a marriage. Why make it so serious?" she said, her tone softer now.
But Loretta did not back down.
"What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?" she pressed.
"You wouldn't understand," Mrs. Gladstone replied coldly. "Just be a good girl and marry in your sister's place."
Something inside Loretta snapped.
She stepped forward and grabbed her mother's shoulders.
"Then make me understand!" she cried, shaking her. "Help me understand why a mother would treat her own child like this!"
Her voice broke as tears finally fell.
Mrs. Gladstone's head spun from the force. She tried to pull away, but Loretta held on tightly.
"Let go of me!" she snapped.
But Loretta didn't.
"Why?!" she demanded again.
Something dark rose in Mrs. Gladstone's eyes—years of anger, years of resentment.
She shoved Loretta hard.
Loretta stumbled back.
"You want to know why?" Mrs. Gladstone shouted, her voice shaking with rage.
"Because your rapist of a father ruined my life!"