Chapter 1: Dark Feelings
Frances used to believe life was simple—gentle, even. Her world had once been calm, her smile genuine. She believed glory came from peace, not pain. But that was before everything fell apart.
Now, every word from her lips sounded hollow. Every step she took felt cursed. The air around her stank of bitterness, as if grief had become her perfume.
It began the day her parents—Amelia Chris and Jake Lin—died. Their sudden absence didn't just leave her alone. It opened the gates to a darker reality, one where masks slipped and people showed her who they truly were.
Even Marcus.
The man she had trusted with her heart. The man she planned to spend her entire life with.
Frances curled up on the floor of her room, a pillow clutched tightly to her chest. It was soaked with days of tears. The walls around her felt too close, like a prison closing in.
She hadn't stepped outside in days. Shame, betrayal, and hatred had swallowed her whole.
"ARGHHHHH!" she screamed into the empty room, her voice bouncing off the walls, a raw cry of helplessness.
"Mum... Dad... why did you leave me?" she whispered. "If you were still here, Charlotte wouldn't have stolen Marcus. She wouldn't have had the chance."
Tears blurred her vision.
"I trusted her... I made her my best friend. And she stabbed me in the back."
Charlotte hadn't just taken Marcus. She'd taken everything. She had framed Frances at work, leaked confidential documents, manipulated the system against her—and made it look like Frances had done it all.
The company believed it. Her colleagues turned on her. They called her a thief. A liar. A whore.
And Marcus? He believed them without question.
"He said he couldn't be with a promiscuous woman," she muttered. "That he didn't want a fraudster for a fiancée."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "How did I become the villain?"
She had never even slept with Marcus. In five years of being together, she'd always gently refused, saying, "We're getting married, aren't we? I want to wait."
And he had smiled. Acted like he understood. Acted like he loved her.
What she didn't know was that he had been sleeping with Charlotte the entire time.
Worse—everyone around her knew. His parents accepted Charlotte. Martha—Frances' closest colleague—knew everything. They had all been pretending. All of them had watched her love, work, and trust blindly… only to laugh behind her back.
It was a setup. All of it.
They wanted her for her parents' wealth. Nothing more.
The truth came crashing down the day she was fired.
She'd returned to the office, her steps heavy with dread. But when she walked into her space, Martha was already sitting in her chair—legs crossed, eyes cold.
Frances froze. "What are you doing at my desk?"
Martha smirked and leaned back. "You really thought people liked you, huh?"
She grabbed a stack of documents and flung them across the table. Papers scattered across the floor.
"You think Marcus choosing your best friend was an accident? Please. If I had met him first, I would've given him my body without hesitation. That's what men want. Not your little princess act."
Frances stood still, eyes wide, throat tightening.
"Loser," Martha spat. "Pretending to be perfect. Pathetic."
Frances couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Her heart was pounding so loud it echoed in her ears.
The company had already made its decision. She was escorted out within the hour.
Her life collapsed in a single afternoon.
But she needed confirmation. One last shred of proof that this nightmare was real. So she went to Marcus' apartment, each step heavier than the last.
She was almost at the door when she heard it.
Charlotte's voice, low and venomous.
"She's such a pain in the ass. Can't we just get rid of her? I know people who can make it clean. Unless, of course, you still have feelings for her?"
Marcus' voice followed, laughing. "Me? Like her? Please. Where would I put my beautiful princess then?"
Frances froze, her hand inches from the doorknob.
"She's done. We have everything now," Marcus continued. "Her wealth. Her properties. Let's just enjoy ourselves. Hell, if you want, we can even sell her off."
Laughter erupted on the other side of the door.
And just like that, everything shattered.
Frances backed away slowly, as if the floor beneath her had turned to ice. Her legs trembled. Her chest ached. She couldn't breathe.
Everything was true.
The betrayal. The lies. The manipulation. Her love, her career, her family's legacy—all stolen and tossed aside like garbage by the people she had loved most.
She turned and ran.
She didn't know where she was going. She just knew that if she stayed a second longer, she might break completely.
She could've burst into that room and demanded answers—but what good would it do? They didn't care. They never had.
The night air outside was cold, but not colder than her heart.
Frances had nothing left.
Or so they thought.