Chapter 1: Defiance
Charis
The day I knew I’d had enough was the day I didn’t cry.
My father’s belt lashed across my body countless times—my ribs, my face, the soft places that wouldn’t show when I am presented to Darian Blackmoor like a prize mare at auction.
I’d learned to cry on command, to break just enough to satisfy his rage while keeping the pieces of myself where he couldn’t reach them.
But today, when his knuckles split the skin across my cheekbone and the familiar taste of blood filled my mouth, something inside me died.
No tears. No pleas. No promises to be better, to try harder, to somehow atone for the sin of surviving when my twin brother didn’t.
Because fourteen years of being blamed for Caden’s death had finally taught me the truth: I would never be forgiven for the crime of being born, of surviving the rogue attack when he’d taken his last breath, of carrying the guilt of a choice I’d never made in an event I couldn’t remember.
And I was tired of apologising for being alive.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the dining room as my father’s fist connected with the cabinet door beside my head. Splinters rained down on my shoulders, but I didn’t flinch. I’d learned long ago that showing fear only made it worse.
"You worthless little bitch," he snarled, his breath reeked of whiskey and rage. "Do you have any idea what you’ve cost me?"
I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, studying the worn wooden planks that had witnessed too many of these moments. The broken plate at my feet—the one my father had flung at me in his rage because I bit Darian Blackmoor, who was trying to force himself on me.