Chapter 4

RAVENNA'S POV

THE NEXT DAY

By the time I stepped into the glass-and-marble foyer of the family estate, I was already braced for what would come my way, or rather, who. And Diana, my half sister, didn't disappoint.

She descended the staircase like a catwalk model, a silk robe trailing behind her, voice dripping with the satisfaction of having the upper hand like she has always had in life.

"Well, look who's back," Diana said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "The illegitimate daughter who still thinks she belongs here." She leaned against the banister, tilting her head.

"You do realize that this is my house as well, right?" I said, trying to walk past her, but how could she let me go easily?

She gripped my forearm and dragged me right in front of her. She didn't use much strength, and it would not have taken me anything to fling her away, but I couldn't do such. I had a plan to follow, and the plan didn't involve breaking her face even though I so desperately want to do so.

"How dare you try to walk away when I'm speaking to you. So uncouth and low. I can't blame you, though. It's something that's in you, in your blood." She hissed with a venomous smile playing on her lips.

I had grown used to her taunts that were mainly centered on my birth mother and my origin. She hated people who were low-born, as if they were afflicted with the plague. Such a high-handed thought that because she was born with a silver spoon, she was someone bigger. I wonder how she would react when she discovers the truth.

"Look, Diana, I do not have time for you and your cynical words. Father is expecting me, and I do not intend to cover for you." I said.

"I wonder why you are hovering around Father now? Didn't you once say that you hated this forsaken house? That you would rather die than come back willingly. So it was all for show? And I was rooting for you, but at the end of it all, you are just a leech who wants more."

"I was called back to clean up a mess of yours."

"Yeah, right, and you came so eagerly."

"Speak clearly, Diana. I don't have time for your paradoxical words."

"You do know you'll never inherit anything real, right? Father's already promised me the medical device manufacturing company. That's independence, Ravenna. You wouldn't understand—you've always needed to beg for scraps, and now you are doing the same. Get a life, sweetheart."

My lips curved into something that almost resembled a smile. I looked directly at the beauty that was my half sister, and it was like I was taken back in time. We were just kidding, but her heart was already trained against me. The antagonism, the taunts, the plans made against me. This house had borne witness to the pain and humiliation I had suffered, but now it will definitely witness my victory and revenge.

I had heard these same lines a hundred times before. The venom no longer stung as much as it did. It just tasted stale. "Funny," I said, brushing past her, "for someone so independent, you talk an awful lot about me, who lives alone. You, on the other hand, are constantly dependent on Daddy's money and influence. You have never done anything in your life that's somewhat achievement worthy. You have done absolutely nothing because you are absolutely nothing."

Diana's smirk faltered, but she didn't reply. I didn't wait for her to recover. I had more important business to attend to.

Inside Father's study, the heavy scent of cedar and old paper wrapped around her. My father sat behind his mahogany desk, eyes cold and calculating. The man never wasted time on pleasantries, and neither did I. Not anymore.

"I'll marry in Diana's place," I said, my tone flat. "But I have conditions."

Father leaned back, studying me like a merchant weighing goods. "Name them."

"First—money. A substantial amount, deposited into an account only I can access. Second—the medical device company you promised Diana."

One of his brows arched. "That was already arranged."

"So was my life, apparently," I said smoothly. "Consider this an adjustment."

"So you believe you deserve this?" he said.

I knew what he was doing. This was a normal manipulation tactic to make me feel like I didn't deserve what I was asking for. He had done that all my life, but no longer.

"Yes, I do. And I am the one with the upper hand now."

Initially, I hadn't planned to take the company. I had no personal use for it. But after seeing the smug tilt of Diana's chin in the foyer, the idea of stripping her of her precious "independence" felt… delicious.

Father's hesitation lasted less than a breath. The marriage alliance was worth far more than his eldest legitimate daughter's pride. "Done."

My agreement was sealed and stamped, making it legal. This was my first step to victory, and damn it felt great. Father stood up and stepped out of the study along with me. We then bumped straight into Ethan.

My eldest brother stood there, freshly returned from his usual morning run, his dark hair still damp from the rain and sweat. His smile was warm, his voice gentle, the very picture of the perfect older sibling. "Ravenna," he said softly, "you should stay for dinner. It's been too long."

I hesitated. Ethan's kindness had always been… different. Not the protective warmth of family, but something heavier, something that lingered too long in his gaze. As a child, I had brushed it off as overprotectiveness. As an adult, I had learned to read the subtleties, the way his hand rested too long on my shoulder, the way his eyes followed me like I was something he owned.

"I can't," I said, stepping back. "I've got things to prepare."

"I'll drive you home then," he offered immediately.

Father said nothing as always, already walking away after returning Ethan's nod. That was the thing about this family: no one ever questioned Ethan's interest in me.

The drive was quiet at first, rain pattering against the windows. Then Ethan spoke up.

"You've lost weight."

"I've been busy."

"You shouldn't work yourself so hard." His eyes flicked toward me briefly, but the way he said it made the air in the car feel smaller. "You should let me take care of you."

My hands tightened in my lap. "I can take care of myself."

They pulled up to my apartment. Ethan killed the engine but didn't move to unlock the doors right away. His gaze lingered on my face, searching.

"You know you can always call me," he said finally, his voice low. "For anything."

The way he said "anything" made my stomach turn.

"I know," I replied, my tone neutral enough, giving nothing away.

Only when I stepped out of the car and heard it drive off did I let myself exhale.

Inside, the quiet of my own space was a relief. I dropped my bag, pulling out a small suitcase and beginning to pack. Clothes folded neatly into the case, shoes lined up with precision. I wasn't nervous about the wedding itself; the marriage itself was a transaction. A business arrangement is no different than signing a contract. I respected the sanctity of marriage and the institution, but alas, fate didn't allow me to marry the one I truly loved.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Father. This is your fiancé's contact information. Reach out and create a bond or some sort of communication.

I didn't waste time doing what he said. I needed to personally have a good relationship with my soon-to-be husband, a relationship formed through only us and not my family. It would be easier to control and predict his actions. I sent a short, formal message introducing myself.

Minutes later, my phone pinged again with a message.

Ring size and preferred style.

My brows lifted. So demanding and authoritative, straight to the point. Funny enough, I liked that. He wasn't one to beat around the bush. Unfortunately, I only knew my ring finger size and for my preferred style...I had chosen one when I was imagining my life with Dante. But I couldn't use that now. I tapped open a jewelry site, scrolling through designs—sleek bands, emerald cuts, platinum settings.

I was so focused that I didn't notice the shadow in the doorway across the street. It was later, while checking my security cameras for a raccoon, that my eyes caught the figure.

It was Lily. Dante's whatever she was to him.

Standing on the curb, watching through the glass of my apartment building. Eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight, taking in every detail, my calm, the expensive ring styles on my screen, the subtle curve of her mouth as she considered her options while she held a bloody ass knife.