Morana's Point of View
Two figures were entwined, lost in their heated embrace. Clothes half-undone, lips devouring each other hungrily.
It was Davian. My fiancé.
And Sophia. My stepsister.
For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The sight of them, so brazen, so shameless made the rage in my chest ignite like a wildfire. I gripped the doorframe, my knuckles white, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts.
This was it. Proof of their betrayal.
The old me would have burst in, screaming, crying, demanding answers. But I wasn't that woman anymore.
Instead, I stepped back quietly, the smirk returning to my lips.
'Let the games begin,' I thought, turning away and walked up the stairs.
As soon as I entered my room, I locked the door behind me and turned to face the mirror. My reflection stared back, wide-eyed and trembling, but there was a determination in my gaze that hadn't been there before.
"I failed you in the past," I whispered, stepping closer to the mirror. My fingers grazed the cool surface as though trying to reach the version of me that had suffered in silence. "I made you endure pain, humiliation, and betrayal. But now, I promise you…" My voice grew steadier. "I will protect you. I will make them pay for every tear, every scar, every ounce of suffering."
My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, remembering the child I lost, the life they stole from me. "And our baby," I said, my tone darkening. "I will have revenge, for both of us."
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I stared at my reflection. My clothes were an insult to everything I had once been. The shapeless, dull fabric hung on me like a mockery of my former self. I was a model, yet my appearance screamed anything but.
I knew why. Sophia. My so-called stepsister had envied my success in the modeling world, decided to become a model and had done everything in her power to overshadow me. Under her influence, my stepmother had ordered me to dull my shine, to dress in bland, unflattering clothes so that Sophia could be the star of every event.
The memories flooded back, each one sharper than the last. The time I had dared to defy their orders, wearing a stunning gown that turned heads at an event. Their reaction had been swift and brutal—I was beaten and locked in a dark, damp room for days, left without food or water until I "learned my place."
I hadn't realized I was gripping the glass in my hand until it shattered, the shards cutting into my palm. Blood trickled down, but I barely felt the pain. My voice was low, almost a growl, as I said, "Not anymore. Everything changes now."
I stripped off the shabby dress with a newfound resolve and tossed it into the waste bin without a second thought. The shower was quick, but it felt like washing away the remnants of the weak, broken woman I had been.
Stepping out, I wrapped myself in a towel and began working on my appearance. My makeup was simple yet striking—a bold red lip and a touch of highlighter that gave my face a radiant glow. I styled my hair into soft waves, pinning one side back with a jeweled clip for an effortless yet classy look.
Then came the challenge: my closet. I opened the doors and stared in dismay. The contents were just as uninspiring as the dress I had discarded.
"Jeez, what are these rags?" I muttered in irritation, flipping through the hangers. Each outfit seemed worse than the last until my hand landed on something buried at the back.
I pulled it out—a black gown, elegant despite its age. The fabric shimmered faintly, adorned with tiny, dazzling stones that caught the light like stars in the night sky. The gown hugged the body perfectly, with a high slit that ran up one leg and an open back that added a touch of allure. It was timeless, the kind of dress that commanded attention without trying too hard.
I slipped into the gown and smiled at my reflection. It fit like a glove, accentuating every curve. I paired it with matching black heels and a simple clutch bag, completing the look.
Stepping back, I examined myself in the mirror and nodded in approval. The woman staring back at me was no longer the timid, broken Morana. She was someone new. Someone powerful.
I opened the door and walked out of my room with an elegant smile. My heels clicked against the floor as I descended the staircase, my head held high.
At the top of the stairs, I paused and whispered to myself, "From now on, all of you will witness the new me."
Just as I was about to descend the staircase, a familiar voice called my name, stopping me in my tracks.
"Morana."
The sound of it made my heart flutter, and I turned quickly, my breath catching in my throat. There he was, my grandfather, Adam. His kind eyes sparkled with warmth as he smiled at me, the lines on his face deepening with affection.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said, walking toward me. His gaze roamed over my appearance, and he paused, his smile widening. "You look different… so beautiful, my darling. Just like your mother."
The mention of my mother brought a lump to my throat, and my eyes watered against my will. Memories of her flashed before me, her gentle smile, her comforting embrace, her love that had been taken from me too soon.
Grandpa noticed the tears pooling in my eyes and gently patted my shoulder. "There, there, darling," he said softly. "Today is your special day. Don't ruin your makeup."
I stared at him, overwhelmed with love and longing. In my past life, I had been so foolish, so blind. My neglect and stupidity had cost me the only person who had ever truly cared for me.
I remembered vividly how he had always been against my relationship with Davian. He had seen the truth, the darkness in Davian's soul that I had refused to acknowledge. He had tried to protect me, to warn me, but I hadn't listened.
And because of my naivety, he had paid the price.
The image of his lifeless body flashed in my mind—Davian had pushed him down the stairs, claiming Grandpa was being "too nosy for his age." And me? I had been too weak, too desperate for Davian's approval, to stand up for him. I had accepted Davian's lies and turned my back on the one person who had truly loved me.
Not this time.
Tears threatened to spill over as I threw my arms around my grandfather, holding him tightly. The warmth of his embrace was everything I didn't know I had missed so much.
He stiffened for a moment, startled, before his hands came up to pat my back. "What's this about, Angel?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.
I shook my head, my face buried in his shoulder. "Nothing, Grandpa," I murmured. "I just… I just missed you."
He let out a soft laugh, the sound so comforting it made my chest ache. "Silly girl," he said, pulling back slightly to look at me. "I'm here. Always."
I stared into his kind eyes, memorizing every detail of his face. My heart swelled with determination as a single thought echoed in my mind.
'And I'll make sure it remains like that.'