Chapter 1
“Uncle Alex, please-I’m begging you, save Amaris, please?”
“She’s allergic to cats, I get it. I’ll make sure Amaris doesn’t go near her. I’ll even send her away if I have to. But why does
she have to die?!”
The cat’s desperate, piercing cries echoed through the entire residence.
Cynthia Aquil was being held back by a group of servants, unable to break free. All she could do was scream into the
phone, her voice raw with grief.
There was a long silence before Alexander Lowell’s cold, detached voice finally came through, “From now on, Morinne is the mistress of this house. Everything will be handled according to her wishes. I’m busy. Don’t ever call me again.”
The moment he hung up, the bodyguard brought down the final blow.
Amaris’s small body twitched violently, then slowly stilled. Her cries ceased. She lay in a widening pool of blood, her eyes.
shut forever.
“Amaris!”
Cynthia broke free like a madwoman and rushed forward, collapsing to her knees as she gathered the lifeless body of her cat into her arms. She was overwhelmed by grief, each tear so large it felt like it might split her heart open. She couldn’t even form a single coherent word.
Morinne Ayla sat comfortably on the living room couch, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.
It was her first day moving into the estate, and more than a dozen designer suitcases were stacked neatly beside her. With the ease of someone used to being in control, she directed the servants like she already owned the place.
“Is it dead?” she asked casually. “If it is, stop. Help me move my bags upstairs.”
And so the crowd that had just brutally killed Cynthia’s kitten now followed Morinne up the stairs like loyal footmen.
In the enormous, silent house, Cynthia was left alone-clutching Amaris’s body, crying until it felt like her soul was
shattering.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like she had cried out every tear she’d ever had in her life. When she finally moved, her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t touched in three days.
“Ms. Tracey? It’s Cindy.”
“I’ve thought about what you said. I’m ready.”
When she was seven, her parents died in a plane crash, leaving her as the only child to the Aquil family. None of her relatives wanted to take her in-they passed her around like a burden no one wanted to carry.
That was when Alexander Lowell, her family’s generation friend and, technically, her brother-in-law, stepped in.
He brought her into the Lowell estate and protected the Aquil family’s property on her behalf. Everyone in their social circle knew Alexander-aloof, controlled, and known for avoiding women-had taken in a delicate little girl.
She was ten years younger than him, sweet and clingy, with a smile that could melt the hardest heart.
He tied her ponytails every morning, slipped on her shoes for her, and once said, “Other girls have people who spoil them.
Our Cindy deserves no less.”
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She once cried, saying she felt lonely at home, and the moment she clung to him, tears fell like tiny pearls-just like the Little Mermaid. He canceled every networking events just to come home early to accompany her every night.
The first time she got her period, Alexander dropped a billion-dollar contract to rush home. He bought her tampons, made her cups of hot chocolate, and took care of her with such gentleness it was almost painful to witness.
Bit by bit, he raised her like a rose in a greenhouse. And somewhere along the way, her eyes began to shine with something more than gratitude when she looked at him.
Eventually, people started asking why he wasn’t married yet. When pressed, he simply said, “I don’t believe in marriage. There’s only one girl I’ll ever treat this well-and she’s already in my life.”
Cynthia was overjoyed. She couldn’t help but wonder-Was he talking about her?
Then came her eighteenth birthday. That night, he returned home late. She had just curled up on the couch, pretending to be asleep, planning to scare him for fun.
But the next moment, she felt something warm press against her lips-gentle, restrained, yet laced with madness.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Alexander just kissed her?!
That moment confirmed what she had always hoped: he did have feelings for her.
The next morning, she confessed without hesitation, believing they would finally become the couple fate intended.
But to her shock, the man who had secretly kissed her the night before turned ice-cold. He flew into a rage, accusing her
of being shameless.
Then he brought home another woman.
Hand in hand with Morinne Ayla, he looked her in the eye and said, “Cynthia, I’m going to marry her.”
The world shattered around her in that instant.
From that day on, no matter how vicious or controlling Morinne became, Alexander turned a blind eye. Cynthia backed down again and again, trying not to provoke them.
But it wasn’t enough.
Backing down still led to her beloved kitten dying in Morinne’s hands.
Ms. Tracey had been her mother’s close friend. The two women gave birth around the same time and had arranged a marriage between their children-one boy, one girl-as a symbol of their bond.
Over the years, Ms. Tracey had occasionally visited Cynthia in the city, offering to raise her, but Cynthia always declined.
Three days ago, Ms. Tracey called again. She wanted to fulfill the old engagement and asked Cynthia to move to Riverport and marry her son.
Because of Alexander-because of that kiss-Cynthia had refused.
She had been clinging to the past, hoping to make sense of it.
But now… she was done.
The voice on the other end of the line was full of delight.
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“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. Nate has been waiting for this for years. Let me see… the seventh of next month is the perfect date. How about we get your married license that day? That should give you enough time to wrap things up there.”
Exactly fifteen days away.
Plenty of time for her to deal with other stuffs.
Cynthia nodded, “Okay. Whatever you think is best.”
Ms. Tracey chuckled, “Still calling me Ms. Tracey?”
Cynthia smiled, “Thank you… Mom.”
After hanging up, she lifted Amaris’s tiny body and slowly walked out into the yard.
She remembered when Amaris first arrived-barely the size of her palm.
It had been her first week in the Lowell household. To help her adjust to the strange new environment, Alexander had picked out the kitten for her himself.
He’d even named her Amaris, after Cynthia’s own name.
“Amaris,” she whispered, “you used to love sleeping under this maple tree. This can be your home now, okay?”
She gently placed the kitten’s body into the ground and covered it with soft earth. Her tears fell silently, soaking into the
soil.
She gathered a few of the prettiest maple leaves and laid them gently over the tiny grave.
“Farewell, Amaris. Rest in peace.”
“Farewell, Alexander Lowell.”
And with those final words, she let go of everything she had been holding onto.
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