Chapter 1
**What Is Meant to Be…** ***Everhart Hall*** Isabella Everhart lay sprawled across her sister Eliza Silverstone’s lap, ugly sobs wracking her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks, stark against her perfectly crafted makeup, as she grumbled about the blind date she had just endured. Her disdain for the suitor was palpable, especially as she cast a derisive glance at Seraphina, their younger sister, who sat on the floor molding colorful playdough, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Mom, there’s no way I’m marrying that Malcolm Blackthorn. If the Blackthorn family wants someone, let them have her,” Isabella spat, her tone dripping with scorn. It was almost laughable—the idea of Malcolm being paired with someone as simple-minded as Seraphina. Isabella’s heart had soared with excitement earlier in the day when she had spent hours preparing for her encounter with the rumored dashing Eamon Blackthorn. She envisioned romance beneath his chiseled jaw and aristocratic demeanor, a spark igniting a life of luxury. Those dreams came crashing down when the reality struck. When Eamon Blackthorn stepped into the room, radiant as a supernova, Isabella was enchanted—until she was blindsided by the words of his brother, Roland. “Miss Everhart, I have to be frank. Three years ago, I was in an accident that left me blind. Are you really willing to share your life with a man like me?” The cold splash of truth extinguished her hopes, snuffing out the flame of possibility. The thought of tying her fate to someone like him—or worse, like Malcolm—was unbearable. “Mom, I’m not hitching my star to Malcolm. If someone has to marry him, let it be Seraphina,” Isabella declared, her voice rising, thick with desperation. “Jill, sweetie, you’re my precious girl. I could never let you marry someone like Malcolm,” Eliza said, her voice soothing but edged with frustration as she shot a look towards Leander Everhart. He had been the one to agree to this ridiculous setup, and she felt the weight of resentment building towards him. “No way. I won’t sign off on that. You know how dire our situation is, and Blackthorn's offer is our lifeline. If you want to sacrifice Seraphina for a shot at security, think again,” Leander responded sharply. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the naive girl playing at his feet. Three years ago, an inferno had claimed their home and taken away Seraphina’s mother, leaving the girl traumatized and her father struggling to keep the family together. It hadn’t taken long for this new woman and her daughter to wiggle their way into his house, taking up space and affection that had once belonged to his family. “Honestly, you’re overreacting. Malcolm didn’t know he was meeting our daughter today. If we go ahead with this, Seraphina could marry into wealth without ever knowing the pain of rejection. And there’s no harm in having a back-up plan—for her,” Eliza reasoned, her voice softer now, crafting a delicate argument. Leander sighed. “You think that marrying her off would solve anything? She's just a kid; she doesn’t need to be trafficked into an unwanted relationship, even if it does come with a title.” “Oh come off it; Seraphina’s chances at marriage are slim. To finalize an arrangement with Blackthorn might protect her in the long run. After all, it’s not like anyone will pay her any mind.” Eliza's calculation was clear. All this was simply a way to secure their futures—and, in reality, she was only thinking of herself. Seraphina listened from the floor, each word slowly cementing her unwelcome reality. The world knew her as the “simple” sister, the one without promise. But she wasn’t blind to the condescending looks from Isabella and Eliza. No, those smiles were pointed daggers aimed at her very soul. She remembered vividly the day after the fire, how they had walked into Everhart Hall like they owned the place. The image of their perfect façade had shattered, revealing that she was merely collateral damage in their scheme—a nuisance to be dealt with. Countless times since, she had pondered escape. But uncovering the truth behind the fire and avenging her mother kept her grounded. She needed to survive this house of mirrors, a place where no one could see through her antics—their so-called “little sister.” With playdough smeared across her petite hands, Seraphina chattered to herself, fully invested in her imaginary world. She stole glances at her sister and mother, positioning herself just out of view, listening. She giggled, naive to their true nature. When Eliza finally cast her a “loving” stare, Seraphina looked back, eyes wide and innocent. She threw her arms around Eliza, plastering a sticky, beaming smile on her face. “Mom, look! I made grapes! They’re super sweet—taste!” She leaned forward, pretending to feed her mother bits of brightly colored dough, eliciting a nervous chuckle from Eliza. “Eliza quickly squeezed her lips shut, panic flickering in her eyes. “Uh, that’s…lovely, sweetie. But I think I’ll save them for later. They can look pretty on the table,” she replied, her voice tight. Isabella, feeling the heat of the moment, shot a warning glance at Seraphina to back off, lest she disrupt their precious plans. Seraphina, blissfully unaware, only smiled wider, fully intent on returning the "affection."
Chapter 2
"Sure thing, Seraphina honey, Mommy’s going to eat soon." "Mommy has to eat!" With that, Seraphina Everhart, her hands and face smeared with mud, affectionately rubbed them against Eliza Silverstone’s stunning, designer dress—worth more than the car parked out front. Eliza froze, caught in a moment of absurd awkwardness, unsure whether to laugh or scold. Sitting nearby, Leander Everhart rubbed his aching temples. Maybe Eliza had a point; with a resigned sigh, he nodded in agreement with their antics. “Seraphina, we found you a really handsome husband. Are you ready to get married?” Isabella Everhart, distressed at her mother being made a fool of by her younger sister, plopped down next to Seraphina, grabbing her hand with a grip that mixed affection and frustration. Seraphina felt a sharp twinge in her fingers, as if they would snap at any second. But she knew she had to endure. Suddenly, while Isabella basked in her self-satisfied delusion of power, Seraphina seized her chance, flinging her mud-streaked palm towards Isabella’s perfectly styled hair and flaunted makeup. Isabella yanked her hand away just in time, eyes wide with shock. "Hey, does getting married mean I get a ton of candy?" Seraphina asked, her chin resting on her palm, eyes sparkling with innocent curiosity. "Of course!" "Then I want to get married! And I’ll share my candy with you, sis! Oh, and your hair looks so pretty, can I touch it?" Before Isabella could get a word out, Seraphina’s small hands were already tangling in her sister’s elaborate hairstyle, effectively turning it into a chaotic mess of mud and strands. "Daddy, Seraphina’s tired. I want to go to bed now!" Pleased with her mischief, Seraphina yawned, stretched, and lazily waved at Leander before trudging upstairs. "Go on, sweetie." Leander watched her retreating figure, a mixture of guilt and tenderness swelling in his chest. Family ties ran deep, but the weight of reality and expectations loomed larger than any feeling of paternal affection. "Dad, look at what she’s done to us!” Isabella exclaimed, her hands flailing as she pointed at the chaos of her disheveled hair and colorful mud on her mother's dress. "Seraphina doesn’t know better; she isn’t as developed as you are. As her big sister, you should be nicer. Stop calling her a fool," Leander snapped, his words a thinly veiled defense of his youngest daughter. Though her father wasn’t entirely wrong, Seraphina found a bitter undertone in his words. Peeking down at the disaster zone that was Isabella and their mother, Seraphina retreated to her room and hopped in the shower. Once refreshed, she curled up with her loyal stuffed bear, Rowan Fairweather, in her closet, where she pulled out her sleek laptop. Within moments, notifications flooded her screen. "Gideon, 'The Chronicles of the Silver Seas' has been in the top five on several writing platforms for three months now! Keep up the good work, but don’t get too cocky.” "Gideon, Evelyn said the boss wants to give you an interview while the iron's hot. What do you think?” "Gideon, reply when you see this!" “Yeah, I’ll keep writing, but no interviews, thanks.” 'The Chronicles of the Silver Seas' had sprung from a fleeting idea, a story of a vengeful hero falling for their enemy’s son. Originally, Seraphina had anticipated the familiar rejections but was unexpectedly welcomed by Chronicle Scriptorium, a leading online publisher in the country. The success had taken her by surprise. With fond memories of her past struggles flashing through her mind, Seraphina understood how fortuitous this latest endeavor had been. After a quick reply, she logged off and closed her laptop, leaning back against Rowan. She retrieved her notebook filled with months of research on the fire at Everhart Enterprises. The pages overflowed with details about everyone who had entered their home three years prior, their histories, their connections. Frustratingly, none of the information linked back to Leander or anyone in the family. She felt a throbbing headache building behind her eyes. Somewhere, she must have missed a critical piece of the puzzle. Closing her eyes, Seraphina let her mind drift through the maze of names and faces sketched in her notebook, her long lashes falling delicately against her cheeks. With a pen grasped firmly in hand, she captured each thought on the crisp, white paper, the soft scratch of ink a focal point of concentration as the small beam from her flashlight illuminated her fierce dedication. In that moment, she was nothing like the muddied little girl splashing in the chaos downstairs.
Chapter 3
**Kicking Back and Playing Games** Not long after, a familiar image popped into Seraphina’s mind—could it be...? She opened her eyes just enough to let a soft smile play on her lips, as if she were clinging to a bright memory. She quickly tucked her small laptop and notebook away into Rowan's case and slipped out of the closet. “Grace, I’m craving milk!” From the kitchen, Grace heard the call from upstairs and hurriedly removed her apron, carefully carrying the already heated milk to Seraphina. Before Grace could even reach the stairs, Seraphina had settled in a chair in the dining room, her legs swinging eagerly as she waited. As soon as Grace placed the milk in her hands, Seraphina guzzled it down in a flash, licking her pink tongue around her lips with a content grin on her face. She gazed at the woman who had risked her life three years ago, charging through the flames to save her, and without a second thought, Seraphina threw her arms around Grace, enveloping her in a warm hug. “Grace, Sis says I’m getting married! And there’ll be lots of candy! I’ll save some sweets for you!” Like a playful kitten, Seraphina nestled into Grace’s embrace as Grace lovingly ran her fingers through her soft hair. Despite being like sisters since childhood, Seraphina had always wondered how Grace could find her so easily when everyone else had given up, finding her hidden away in that suffocating basement. Lillian, the servant who had taken Seraphina in when she was orphaned, listened to the girl’s innocent words with a twitch at the corners of her mouth. Her dry eyes turned moist, and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill when she looked up. “We’ll be getting married too. The lady in the sky will watch over you, keeping you safe.” Seraphina caught the slight quiver in Lillian’s voice and noticed the glimmer of tears that had welled up in her eyes. In that instant, something within Seraphina’s heart cracked. She pressed her lips together, desperately trying to patch up the fissure caused by those words, her tightly clenched fists loosening just a bit, revealing a smile that masked her disquiet like that of an unwary girl. “Will Grace’s little one get married too, like me?” This... Lillian stared into Seraphina’s starry eyes, momentarily frozen with a smile before regaining her composure. She gently stroked the girl’s hair, feigning calmness. “Darling, Grace doesn’t have children. It’s getting late; let’s head back to your room.” “Okay!” With that, Seraphina obediently took Grace’s hand, skipping joyfully toward her room. Once she closed the door, her smile vanished in an instant as she leaned against it, the weight of the world suddenly pressing down on her. For a long time, she clung to Rowan, finding solace in his presence, and then shifted into the closet, her gaze landing on a photo on her small laptop. It showed Grace holding a five-or-six-year-old child. Memories flooded back—her mother’s joyful laughter as she snapped photos of Grace’s happy family. But now, unease knotted in her stomach. Could even the one person she trusted the most be hiding the truth? Sadness and disappointment washed over Seraphina like a rising tide. She had to find a way to unravel this mystery before she married into the Blackthorn family. She needed to get the scoop on why Grace had lied. But fate seemed to conspire against her when Eliza and her daughter decided to rush the wedding plans with Leander and Blackthorn, fearing that with time, complications might arise. The wedding was set for just three days later, while Grace would be away for half a month. It all happened too fast, and Seraphina's investigation hit a brick wall. The ceremony was far from grand. With a red veil covering her face, she boarded Blackthorn’s private jet, flying out to a secluded villa where Roland lived. The officiant led her into the bridal suite and promptly shut the door, leaving her isolated. After what felt like an eternity waiting for her groom, Seraphina decided to sneak peek beneath the veil. The reflection staring back at her was a stranger: so different from her usual self. A mix of emotions swirled inside her, and she couldn’t help but smile a bittersweet smile. To protect herself from Eliza’s schemes, Seraphina not only played the part of the oblivious bride but also made sure to smudge her face, having hidden from public view for the last three years. In the mirror, her lips were a striking red, her teeth white, the ornate phoenix crown above her head crafted by the best artisans in Raventon adorned her like royalty. The rich golden silk of her bridal gown draped her figure splendidly. Yet here she was, shackled by Isabella’s selfishness, being forced to marry Malcolm. There was no way she would comply without a struggle. Her resolve hardened; she was determined to find a way out, break off the wedding, and uncover the truth behind Grace’s secrets. She glanced at her phone, checking the time. Moving to the door, she pressed her ear against it, straining to catch the approaching footsteps. It was time to put her acting skills to the test. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed aside her ten-inch red stilettos and felt an instant wave of relief wash over her bare feet. “What are you doing?”
Chapter 4
As soon as Roland Blackthorn stepped through the door, the sweet scent of candy wafted through the air, catching him off guard. Seraphina Everhart sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, shoving handfuls of sugary treats into her mouth. At the sound of his deep, magnetic voice, her head snapped up, and she found herself staring at a man who looked like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her lips parted slightly in surprise, and she couldn’t help but think that this guy was unreal—way too handsome. With sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a nose that could cut glass, his rugged good looks exuded an almost cinematic masculinity. The black sunglasses perched on his nose only added to the mystery. Those long, straight legs stretched out beneath him, completing the picture of the perfect man in her mind. Too bad he was a Malcolm, she thought with a sigh of resignation. Seraphina shook her head, reminding herself that she shouldn’t be judging this guy based on normal standards. After all, it wasn’t every day you found yourself engaged, albeit under bizarre circumstances. She sprang off the bed, her bare feet hitting the floor as she scooped up her stuffed bunny, Rowan Fairweather, and hopped over to the table. With gleeful energy, she snatched a handful of colorful candies and offered them to him. “Malcolm! Want some candy?” she beamed, her silly grin in stark contrast to the icy energy radiating from him. As she looked up at Roland, she half-expected him to explode in indignation. “Malcolm…” Three years had passed since that car crash, and her family had tiptoed around any mention of the incident, avoiding anything that might upset her. Yet here was this girl, boldly invoking his name. Roland’s brow furrowed slightly as his tension tightened. “You’re not Isabella Everhart.” The difference between Isabella and the vibrant woman before him was glaringly apparent. On that fateful day, he’d sensed that she wasn’t thrilled about their impending marriage. Roland made no move to accept the candies, his skepticism heavy in the air. “Of course not. I’m just Dy-Dy, Isabella said you get candy when you get married, so here I am. And look, she wasn’t lying! There really is candy!” Seraphina tried to read his expression, and when he didn’t lose his cool and throw her out, she jabbed the dagger deeper, feigning satisfaction as she counted her candy, and crammed another handful into Rowan’s pocket. Maybe this time, he’d finally kick her out. She waited, anticipation buzzing in her chest. But Roland didn’t play along. His tone sharpened as he sliced through the air with a flick of his wrist, sending the brightly colored candies flying, a flurry of sweets raining down to the floor. “Wow, wow, wow! Mean ol’ Malcolm! Give me back my candy!” Tears welled up in her big, expressive eyes as she lunged at him, sobbing, her cute little face crumpling in distress. And as she tugged at his arm, her own sniffles smeared her tears across his tailored suit. She had heard whispers about Roland’s obsession with cleanliness, and she secretly hoped he might just be driven to annul their ridiculous marriage right there and then. But instead, she was met with a storm. His brow knit tighter, his face darkening as veins pulsed along his forearms. The kind of irritation he directed toward her was usually reserved for ones he considered less than favorable. He had never raised a hand to a woman, but— “Let go.” His voice was a sharp whip, warning laced within his tone. The icy air grew heavier, paralyzing her. Suddenly, silence filled the room as his glare bore down. Seraphina’s hand remained hooked, her face still stained with tears, the sobs quieting but the desperation clinging. How was this happening? She was making a scene, and yet he wasn’t throwing her out? “Stop it. I'm not afraid. I want my candy, you big meanie! Give me back my candy!” Her cries tore through Roland, leaving him unsure. Women crying scared him, especially when they were as unpredictable as Seraphina. But after all, hadn’t his warnings fallen on deaf ears? With a final surge of frustration, he pried her hand from his and slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the hallway. As she watched him storm away, Seraphina popped a piece of fruit candy into her mouth, crossing her legs and defiantly turning to her game, a smirk spreading on her face.
Chapter 5
**Never Been Kicked Before** Roland Blackthorn stormed into his study, fury bubbling beneath his skin like an impending thunderstorm. Dorian Winterbourne trailed behind, genuinely fearful to make a sound. “Find out everything you can about that woman. I want to know exactly what Everhart is up to,” Roland ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “Yes, Eadric,” Dorian replied hastily. In the exclusive society of Silvervale, Roland Blackthorn ranked among the brightest gems, both in lineage and looks. But three years ago, a car accident had stolen his sight and claimed the life of a cherished friend. Since then, the once adoring fans had vanished, leaving his younger brother Edmund Greenwood frantic over Roland’s single status as he approached thirty years old. Securing a Blackthorn granddaughter-in-law was no small feat. By chance, Edmund had run into Leander Everhart, and they had struck a deal to unite their families. Roland had initially resisted but reluctantly decided to go along with Edmund’s wishes. Now, though, Everhart’s actions were utterly outrageous. In a fit of rage, he slammed a fist onto the desk, causing Dorian, who had just entered, to recoil in fear. “I found something,” Dorian said, his voice trembling. “Speak.” “Everhart has two daughters. The one you met at the arranged meeting was Isabella Everhart, the daughter of his second wife. The legitimate daughter, Seraphina, is… well…” Dorian hesitated, glancing nervously at Roland’s darkening expression. “Go on.” “Three years ago, there was a fire at the Everhart residence. Seraphina’s mother died in the blaze, and the shock left Seraphina… mentally challenged. That’s all we could dig up.” Roland’s expression shifted as he scanned the details Dorian provided, a sense of foreboding settling over him. His fingers tapped against the paper, processing the implications. Everhart had chosen to marry off his incomparable firstborn to a woman unable to complete the role. The debt wasn’t just financial; it was personal. What to do with her? His back hit the chair, and he crossed one leg over the other, eyes narrowing in thought. As he slipped his hand into his pocket, he found a piece of candy, a relic from childhood that triggered a wave of nostalgia. He opened his palm to study the candy, reminiscent of kindergarten days when everything felt innocent and bright. Suddenly, a smile cracked his serious facade, startling Dorian, who had been staring wide-eyed. “Eadric, what happened to your full attendance bonus this month?” Roland's voice took on an edge of threat, pulling Dorian from his reverie. The assistant fumbled for a response, unsure whether to nod or shake his head, embarrassment washing over him. “Get out,” Roland ordered, dismissing Dorian with a wave of his hand. Relieved, Dorian escaped, leaving Roland alone with mounting thoughts. He turned to the safe and retrieved a faded photograph, his heart curling at the sight of Oliver—his dear friend—flashing a peace sign, that contagious grin bright against the backdrop of a sun-soaked day. The memory of them in their army uniforms, ready to serve and protect, crashed over him like a tidal wave of grief. If only that accident hadn’t happened three years ago. Oliver should have been here, living out those dreams with him. Meanwhile, Alistair Fairclough struggled with disbelief. How could the vehicle he inspected before leaving have malfunctioned the next day? It had to be sabotage. Concealed behind the face of Roland Blackthorn—his doppelgänger—Alistair spent the past year in recovering from the crash, investigating everything related to that fateful day. While society admired the splendor of aristocracy, Alistair yearned for the simple comforts of ordinary life, having witnessed the Blackthorn family’s complexities from within. As night slipped into morning, Alistair snapped back to reality, feeling the stiffness in his neck. He stretched, the tension releasing slightly as he transitioned from the chair to the bedroom, still shrouded in a unique blend of newfound identity and old burdens. Rumors swirled about Seraphina Everhart being a paragon of grace, yet when he entered their shared bedroom, he was met with a shocking scene. She lay sprawled across the king-sized bed, mumbling incoherently in her sleep, her makeup smudged from tears. Next to her, Rowan Fairweather slept soundly, having claimed the space. Seraphina stirred, pushing an errant strand of hair away from her face. “Adam, sweetie,” she murmured, her grip tightening subconsciously around Rowan’s arm. “Adam,” Alistair echoed incredulously. This slipped into the realm of absurdity. “Seraphina, let go.” A low murmur escaped her lips, and Alistair felt the absurdity of the moment constricting around him. The seemingly innocent woman had to know what she was doing, laying here while another man slept beside her. “Wake up! Seriously,” he tried again, frustration seeping into his voice as he reached for her wrist, attempting to pry her fingers off Rowan. She merely snuggled closer, feigning sleep, her intentions cloaked in innocent mischief. As he leaned down to gain control, Seraphina suddenly bit down on his arm. “Your chicken legs were so delicious.” “Ow!” Alistair blurted in shock, his pride wounded by the unexpected assault. “Seraphina Everhart, are you a dog? Let go! You’re about to break my arm!” But her laughter rang like a bell, gloating in their peculiar dance of hatred and misunderstanding. “Why are you doing this?” he shouted, his frustration boiling over. “Is that your way of asking me out?” she teased, her tone bubbly and carefree, brushing off his irritation as though it were nothing. Alistair couldn't believe it. He'd never faced such audacity before. “Seraphina, you need to remember who you’re dealing with.” “I know exactly who you are, you’re the blind guy in my room,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Chill out, my dear Roland.” The audacity! For the first time in his life, he felt blindsided—not by fate, but by the very woman who should have been vulnerable. Alistair flicked his fingers, shaking off the sting of humiliation as he straightened his shirt, determined to reclaim control. As he hovered above her, looming over like an approaching storm, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought: this woman was anything but fragile, and he was about to find out just how fierce she could be. “Roland, are you going to scare me?” Seraphina's voice dripped with playful bravado, her eyes brightening with mischief as she tugged her blanket tighter around herself, unaware of the tempest brewing just above her.
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