Chapter 1: The Wounded Seraphina
London, England
The stage lights shone brightly on Seraphina's graceful figure. Her wavy black hair swayed gently with each movement. Her melodious voice filled the concert hall, carrying the audience on an emotional journey. The song she sang, Ethereal Strings, was filled with sorrow and love, bringing some listeners to tears. In an instant, she made everyone forget the outside world, lost in the enchantment of her voice.
As her final note faded, the hall erupted in thunderous applause. Seraphina bowed gracefully, offering a faint smile. Yet behind that smile, her heart pounded fiercely. There was always a hidden fear whenever she performed—not of the audience, but of the person now waiting for her backstage.
As she stepped behind the curtains, her father's face, Marcus, was already there. His gaze was sharp, filled with the same unyielding criticism. There was no pride in his expression, no trace of admiration. Instead, his jaw clenched, and his right hand tightened into a fist.
"You think your voice can cover up your sins, Seraphina?" His voice was flat, but it cut like a blade.
Seraphina froze, her body stiff. "Papa…" She tried to speak, but the words died in her throat.
Marcus took a step closer, his footsteps heavy. "You stand on that stage, flaunting yourself like your mother once did. As if the world worships you. But you forget, Seraphina—your voice is a reminder of the greatest crime in my life."
"W-what crime?" Seraphina struggled to keep her voice from trembling.
"Your mother's death," Marcus answered coldly. "She died because of you, Seraphina. You took everything from me the moment you were born."
The words crushed her chest. Since childhood, she had heard this over and over again. Yet the wound never faded. She took a deep breath, trying to muster the strength to respond.
"Mother died due to medical complications, not because of me…." Seraphina clung to logic, but Marcus's voice cut her off.
"Don't you dare defend yourself!" He pointed a finger at her. "Your stepmother is right. You are a curse. Even now, you bring nothing but misfortune to this family."
Seraphina took a step back, lowering her head. Her hands clenched at her sides, but no words escaped her lips. Because she knew—nothing she said would ever change how her father saw her.
Marcus turned away, his voice cold as he left her in the dimly lit corridor. "Stop acting like you're the pride of this family. You are nothing more than Eleanor's shadow."
The door closed behind him.
Seraphina stood frozen, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. On stage, she was a shining star. But backstage, she was just a broken girl, wounded by the past she could never escape.
She took a deep breath, wiping her tears away. Tonight, this pain was only the beginning. At home, Eleanor, her stepmother, would surely have more cruel words waiting for her.
But amid the pain, a thought whispered in her heart. She had to find the truth—about her mother, about the past. Seraphina would no longer let them break her.
---
Seraphina Remembers Her Painful Childhood
The room was silent, accompanied only by the distant murmur of rain against the window. Seraphina sat by the large mirror in her bedroom, her slender fingers slowly combing through her long black hair. Each stroke seemed to unearth painful memories. She inhaled deeply, but the tightness in her chest refused to ease. Her gaze fell on her reflection—those brown eyes, once filled with joy, now looked weary and hollow.
Through the hum of the rain, voices from her childhood echoed like whispers in the halls of time.
A young Seraphina sat in the grand yet cold living room, her small hands trembling as they held a porcelain teacup almost too big for her grasp. Across from her, her stepmother, Eleanor, sat elegantly. But behind her poised smile, there was something sharp and chilling.
"You know, Seraphina," Eleanor's voice was soft, deceptively gentle. "Your father never truly wanted you. You are a reminder of everything he lost. How do you think a man feels when the woman he loves dies because of a child's birth?"
Young Seraphina lowered her head. She didn't fully understand the weight of those words, but a deep ache settled in her heart.
"I…" Little Seraphina tried to respond, but her voice was swallowed by uncertainty.
"I want to give you some advice," Eleanor continued, her tone now firmer. "Don't expect love from someone whose heart was torn apart because of you."
Eleanor's voice faded into the present, replaced by the sharp sound of porcelain shattering. Seraphina gasped, realizing she had dropped her teacup. Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, a reflection of memories never fully pieced together.
A knock on the door broke the silence. A servant entered hesitantly. "Miss Seraphina, Madam Eleanor requests your presence in the dining room."
Seraphina nodded without a word, rising to her feet with heavy steps.
When she entered the dining room, Eleanor was already waiting, her smile the same as always—the kind that hid poison behind politeness.
"Ah, finally, you're here," Eleanor said, lifting her teacup with grace. "I thought you were going to ignore me again."
"What do you want, Aunt?" Seraphina's voice was flat, void of emotion.
Eleanor shrugged, setting her cup down. "Just making sure you're doing well. You seem… troubled. I wouldn't want people to think I don't care about my dear stepdaughter."
Seraphina clenched her jaw. "Care? Is that what you call it when you fed me lies about my mother? When you twisted words until my father saw me as a burden?"
Eleanor's smile remained, but her eyes gleamed with something darker. "Oh, my dear. Do you still blame me for that? Your father made his own choices. I merely showed him the facts. You see, I've always believed that the truth, no matter how harsh, is better than sweet lies."
"The truth?" Seraphina stepped closer, her anger simmering. "You call poisoning our relationship 'the truth'? You manipulated my father, twisted my mother's story, and destroyed whatever bond we had. For what? Power? Wealth?"
Eleanor stood, her expression still composed, though Seraphina could see the flicker of disdain in her eyes. "Watch your words, Seraphina. I did what needed to be done for this family. You are merely the consequence of a tragic mistake. And yet, I still allowed you under my roof. You should be grateful, not resentful."
Seraphina's eyes burned with defiance. All the pain she had buried over the years came rushing back.
"If I am a mistake, Aunt," she said slowly, her voice sharp as steel, "then you are poison. And poison, sooner or later, will be destroyed."
**
The night wind blew cold through the dining room window of the Thompson family, carrying with it an eerie silence. Seraphina sat at the far end of the long table, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, trying to suppress the storm of emotions she had long kept buried. Eleanor Sinclair, her stepmother, sat elegantly at the other end, her cold gaze openly expressing the disdain she made no effort to hide.
"Seraphina," Eleanor's voice was soft but laced with venom. "It's truly astonishing how you continue to cling to the illusion that you deserve anything in life."
Seraphina swallowed hard, meeting her stepmother's gaze with sharp eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling but firm.
Eleanor gave a thin smile and placed her porcelain teacup on the table with a calculated movement. "Look at yourself. A clueless girl living off my family's wealth. Your father married me because I was your mother's sister. But my mother always said, those born from tragedy bring curses to those around them." She paused, scanning Seraphina from head to toe before continuing, "And I believe she was right."
Seraphina's blood boiled, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I never asked to be born," she replied quietly, though there was a restrained fury in her words. "And I have never asked anything from you, Lady Eleanor."
"Oh, dear," Eleanor leaned forward, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "You don't have to ask. Your mere existence is enough to destroy everything that matters. Your father lost his wife. I lost a devoted husband. And now, you can't even keep your fiancé."
Seraphina felt her eyes begin to burn, but she refused to show weakness in front of Eleanor. She took a deep breath, shifting her gaze to the flickering candles in the center of the table.
"You know nothing about me or what I have been through," she finally said, her voice steadier than before. "You have no right to judge me."
Eleanor let out a soft chuckle, more mocking than amused. "Oh, I know more than you think, Seraphina. I know that you are just a desperate little girl trying to replace your mother. But let me tell you something—you will never be her. You will only be a shadow of someone who never truly existed."
The words stabbed into Seraphina's heart like a dagger. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor with a loud noise that startled the servants standing in the corners of the room. "I may not be my mother, but I will not let you belittle me like this!" she declared, her voice shaking.
Eleanor remained unfazed by the outburst. She simply leaned back into her chair, smiling coldly. "So, you're finally learning to talk back. Unfortunately, it doesn't change the truth. You are just an orphan living off my charity. Remember that."
Seraphina felt her whole body tremble. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to give Eleanor the satisfaction. With one deep breath, she turned and walked out of the dining room, leaving Eleanor looking satisfied with her victory.
In the dark corridor, Seraphina stopped and leaned against the wall. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, as if the entire world was shaking. Her tears finally fell, streaming down her flushed cheeks.
"Why does she hate me so much?" she whispered to herself.
In the distance, the hurried footsteps of servants echoed through the hall. Seraphina wiped her tears roughly, trying to steady herself. But Eleanor's words kept ringing in her mind, like a dark shadow she couldn't escape.
---
The evening sky over London turned gray for Seraphina. After delivering a mesmerizing performance in front of thousands on the grand stage, her reality crumbled the moment she stepped backstage.
Jonathan Maxwell, her fiancé whom she called John, was already standing there, his face as cold as a marble statue. Seraphina halted in her tracks, sensing something off in his rigid stance.
"John?" Her voice was soft, but it echoed through the empty space.
Without preamble, John met her gaze with piercing eyes. "We need to talk," he said, his voice heavy with tension.
Seraphina nodded, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat. They walked away from the crowd, into a secluded hallway where no one could overhear them.
"Why do you look like that? What's wrong?" she asked, attempting a smile despite the unease creeping into her heart.
John took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to say something he didn't want to say. "Seraphina, I can't do this anymore," he finally said—short, but devastating.
The words hit her like a blow to the chest. Seraphina stared at John in confusion. "What do you mean? What can't you do anymore?"
Their relationship, which had always felt like an oasis in the chaos of her life, now seemed like a mirage. John lowered his head, avoiding her hopeful yet wounded gaze.
"I know the truth about your mother," John finally said. "She... she was responsible for Amelia's death."
Seraphina stepped back, as if the words had physically struck her. Amelia. The name was too familiar—John's first love, who had died in a tragic accident years ago. "That's impossible," she whispered, barely audible.
John looked at her again, his eyes filled with deep sorrow. "My father has proof. Your mother was at the crash site. She was the one driving the car that hit Amelia."
Seraphina shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "No. That's not true. My mother… she would never do that."
"But she did, Seraphina," John cut in. "I can't stay with you after knowing this. Every time I look at you, I will only see Amelia and how your mother took her from me."
"I lost my mother too!" Seraphina shouted, her voice breaking with emotion. "I never knew what really happened, but I know she wasn't the monster you think she was. You don't know what she went through—what I went through!"
John remained silent, but his decision was unwavering. Seraphina could see it in his eyes.
"I love you," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "But if you don't believe me, if you won't give me a chance to prove the truth, then you've already killed everything between us."
John lowered his head, his jaw tightening. "This isn't about love anymore, Seraphina. This is about justice. I can't ignore what your mother did."
Seraphina stepped closer, reaching for his hand, but John pulled away.
"So, this is the end of us?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're leaving me over something I didn't even do?"