Elaine Monroe had never truly belonged.
Born from an affair, she was the daughter of a woman who had loved too deeply and a man who had only ever seen her as a mistake. Her mother, a kind but naive woman, had raised her in quiet seclusion until the day her father, Charles Monroe, had decided otherwise. One moment, she had been clutching her mother's hand, the only warmth she had known. The next, she had been whisked away to the cold halls of the Monroe estate, where wealth dripped from the chandeliers but love was nowhere to be found.
Her father's legal wife, Eleanor Monroe, had made her feelings clear from the start. Elaine was a reminder of betrayal, an unwanted presence in a perfect world. Her stepmother's disdain was sharp, but it was Olivia, her stepsister, who truly despised her.
It didn't matter that Elaine had never asked to be here.
It didn't matter that she had never wanted to take anything from Olivia.
From the moment she stepped into their home, she was branded an outsider. Yet, despite the hatred, Elaine had grown into a vision of effortless beauty. Tall, graceful, and possessing a charm that turned heads wherever she went, there was something about her that set her apart. Unlike Olivia, who carried herself with a practiced elegance, Elaine's allure was natural, untouched by the cold ambitions of the elite.
Her innocence made her a threat.
And Olivia would never forgive her for it.
Perhaps that was why Olivia had been so eager to flaunt her engagement to Alexander Sterling. He was the ideal suitor—handsome, powerful, and the heir to one of the most influential families in the business world.
The man Elaine had loved in secret for years.
But once, long ago, he had seen her differently.
Elaine had been fourteen when she first met Alexander. He had been in his mid-twenties, already established in the business world, exuding the confidence and authority that came with being a Sterling. To him, she had been nothing more than an awkward, naive girl, too clumsy for her own good.
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"You're going to trip if you keep running around like that," Alexander had warned one afternoon, watching as Elaine nearly toppled over the grand staircase. She had laughed, brushing off his concern. "I'm not that clumsy!"
"That's what you said last time before you fell into the fountain," he had replied dryly, handing her a towel as she shivered from the cold water.
He had taken care of her back then—not as a lover, not even as a friend, but as an older brother would. To him, she had been a little girl in need of guidance. He had scolded her when she was reckless, humored her childish curiosity, and, at times, even shielded her from Olivia's cruelty.
And perhaps that was why the betrayal hurt even more.
Elaine had felt something shift when she turned seventeen. She no longer saw Alexander as the older brother figure she once did—her admiration had deepened into something else, something she didn't dare to name.
She had realized it on her birthday.
Alexander had thrown a grand party for her, one that rivaled any high-society event. The ballroom had been decorated in soft hues of gold and ivory, chandeliers casting a dreamlike glow over the night. He had danced with her, twirling her under the sparkling lights, and for the first time, she had dared to believe that maybe—just maybe—he saw her differently too.
But that illusion shattered that same night.
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Searching for him after the festivities had ended, she had found him in one of the guest rooms. The door was slightly ajar, and through the dim light, she saw him—Alexander, tangled in silk sheets, his arms wrapped around another woman. Their laughter, the whispered words she couldn't make out, had cut through her like a knife.
She had stood frozen, the ache in her chest almost suffocating. But just as she turned to leave, she heard his voice—clear and undeniable.
"Elaine? No, she's like a little sister to me," Alexander said, chuckling at whatever his friend had asked. "She's grown up now, but she'll always be that reckless kid I used to look after."
Elaine clenched her fists. The warmth she had once cherished in his voice now burned like acid against her skin.
How foolish she had been to believe that she could ever be someone special to him.
With silent steps, she had turned away, swallowing the lump in her throat. That night, she learned an unforgettable lesson—Alexander Sterling was never meant to be hers.