Chapter 2

Stella's POV

The rain lashed at me like a madman, cold droplets dripping from my hair, soaking through my paper-thin coat. The iron gates of Lancaster Manor locked behind me, silently mocking my disarray.

I looked up at the Gothic structure before me, its countless windows devouring light and hope like black holes. I knew I had to stay here, I couldn't leave.

If I left, what would happen to Grandma? My head throbbed as if it would explode, my body alternated between chills and fever, my consciousness began to blur, but I couldn't collapse, couldn't surrender, couldn't let the bastards of the Winston family win.

Rain mixed with tears slid down my face, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. In that moment, all the years of bullshit from the Winston family surged up, stabbing my heart like knives.

I was never their daughter, just a meticulously groomed tool, a trophy to gild the family name. I had to be home by ten, no parties with classmates, straight A's were mandatory, and I had to master a plethora of talents, always presenting perfect manners and a fake smile at social events.

"Don't forget, you're just a foundling!" That curse followed me as I grew up. When I was fifteen, I accidentally discovered a DNA report and learned I wasn't a biological Winston.

That day, I first questioned why Anna and John Winston had adopted me. "Adopt you?" Anna's laugh was cold enough to freeze me, "You think you're the chosen one? Let me tell you, you're just a stand-in, filling the void left by our lost daughter."

Their biological daughter, Lucy, had gone missing as a child, and Anna had a breakdown. The doctor suggested adopting a child of the same age to wait for the real daughter to be found, and I was the unlucky substitute.

I could never forget the time I refused to date the "high society boyfriend" they had chosen for me, and John beat me black and blue.

Or the time I had a fever of 104 degrees. It was a winter night when I was sixteen, and the Winston house was as cold as an ice cave.

I curled up on the sofa with a thin blanket, my forehead so hot you could fry an egg on it, and my lips were cracked and bleeding. Anna and John were upstairs arguing, their voices piercingly sharp, but I didn't even have the strength to call out to them. I felt like I was going to die.

No one cared about me. The servants had gone off duty, and the house was empty, with only me shaking like a leaf. It wasn't until Grandma—Mrs. Winston—came downstairs and saw me in that state. Her face turned pale, and she hurriedly felt my forehead.

"Stella, how did you get such a high fever!" Her voice was trembling, but I could only look at her with a hoarse throat.

She drove me to the hospital through the snowstorm, the wind and snow so strong they could knock a person over. Her frail body managed to carry me into the emergency room. For three days and nights, she didn't sleep, holding my hand as if afraid I would disappear.

Her eyes were swollen from exhaustion, and she softly comforted me, "Don't be afraid, Grandma is here." Anna and John never came, not even a phone call. I almost didn't make it, but they didn't care. Grandma was my only warmth.

A sharp ringtone interrupted my thoughts, and my wet fingers struggled to pull out my phone. Brian Lancaster's name flashed on the screen, making me want to vomit.

Taking a deep breath, I answered. "Stella," his arrogant and sleazy voice came through, "Beg me, and I might let you stay by my side."

Nausea rose in my throat, and I nearly retched. "Brian, a scumbag who cheats on his fiancée makes me sick!" I snarled.

"I chased Lucy because you're too uptight and boring!" His tone was full of grievance and disdain, "We're engaged, and you wouldn't even let me touch you!"

I laughed in anger. Brian, Adam's nephew, was once my fiancé. The Winston family arranged for me to marry him until three months ago, when the long-lost Lucy suddenly reappeared. DNA proved she was the real daughter, and I, the stand-in, became useless.

To smoothly integrate Lucy into high society, Anna orchestrated everything, forcing me to break off the engagement and marry Brian's uncle—Adam Lancaster.

The night before the wedding, I caught Brian and Lucy embracing. At that moment, I saw through the Winston family's scheme: shove me to the "cripple" Adam and keep Brian for Lucy.

"Stella, what can that cripple Adam give you?" Brian continued to mock, "He's lame, can't even satisfy you in bed. If you want a good life, you can only rely on me."

Lame? I sneered, recalling Adam last night in the bedroom, moving agilely to pin me down, his hard body pressing against mine, the memory vivid in my mind. "Brian, wake up! No matter how bad things get, I won't pick a man from the trash heap!" My voice trembled with rage, "Oh, and remember to call me 'Aunt' when you see me!"

Hanging up, I felt a rush of satisfaction. Brian's father was Adam's half-brother, so by etiquette, he had to call me Aunt. The thought of that bastard having to respectfully address me as "Aunt" made me grin.

But the fleeting victory was soon drowned by physical pain. Rain pelted my face, blurring my vision, and consciousness felt like it was being swallowed by a dark tide. No, I can't fall! I clung to consciousness, thinking of Grandma who had taken her last pill today. Only I could buy her new ones, only I visited her regularly, bringing her favorite snacks and flowers.

In the pouring rain, I stubbornly stood outside the locked gates of Lancaster Manor, occasionally glancing up at the lit window on the second floor. I knew Adam was there, probably watching my sorry state with cold eyes. He wants to see me kneel? No way!

After an indeterminate amount of time, I locked eyes with a shadow on the second floor. In the dim light, his tall, stern silhouette looked down at me, the drenched wretch. I smiled at the shadow, though he probably couldn't see my face clearly, I still defiantly raised my hand and gave a simple wave. I will hold onto the position of Mrs. Lancaster, whether you like it or not!

The shadow seemed to hesitate, then retreated behind the curtains. Shortly after, the light in that window went out, and the entire manor sank back into a deathly darkness.

The rain continued to pour, and I stood there, letting the rain wash away my body heat and hope. I didn't know how long it had been when a pale dawn light appeared in the east, and the rain finally stopped.

My lips were numb, my limbs felt like they were filled with lead, but I still stood, my back straight as a rod, holding onto my last shred of dignity.

The manor gates slowly opened, and a uniformed servant walked out, his face a mix of surprise, confusion, and pity as he saw me. "Madam... are you alright?" he asked cautiously.

I was about to speak when a familiar figure appeared at the door—Adam Lancaster, sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by Joseph. He was impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, his hair neatly combed, exuding a cold aura like a blade. His mesmerizing green eyes stared straight at me, as if piercing my soul.

Seeing him, my head spun, but I forced myself to stand firm, a smile tugging at my lips. "Good morning, Mr. Lancaster!" My voice was hoarse from the rain, but I maintained a facade of politeness.

Adam's brow furrowed slightly, a flash of undisguised surprise in his green eyes. He clearly hadn't expected me to endure a whole night of torrential rain and still stand to greet him. Damn, you think I'd collapse and beg you? Dream on!

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Lancaster!" I continued, my voice weak but defiant.

He didn't respond immediately, signaling Joseph to push the wheelchair closer. In the sunlight, I could see his chiseled face—high cheekbones, tightly pressed thin lips, and those eyes that seemed to see through everything.

I suddenly felt like laughing, Disappointed? I held on this long just to show you how tough I am!

Adam suddenly reached out and gripped my chin, not hard but firm enough that I couldn't break free. His hand was scorching hot, a stark contrast to his icy gaze. Forcing me to look down at him, his voice was low and dangerous, "Stella, do you want so badly to be my woman?"

Those green eyes flickered with something I couldn't decipher—mockery? Curiosity? I clung to the wheelchair's armrest to steady myself, the cold metal numbing my fingers, but his hand was hot enough to melt my frozen skin.

I fought to steady myself, my head pounding like it would burst, his image starting to blur. I can't show weakness in front of him, never! "No, Mr. Lancaster," I forced a smile, my voice soft but firm, "I don't want to be your woman, I just want the position and dignity I deserve."

Surprise flashed in Adam's eyes, quickly replaced by his usual icy demeanor. He released my chin, leaning back in the wheelchair, his gaze still fixed on me. Damn, you think I'm crazy? Even if I am, I'll hold on!

"Joseph," he suddenly spoke, his voice frighteningly calm, "Take my wife inside."

Wife? I almost thought I misheard. Joseph hesitated for a moment but quickly recovered, extending a hand to me.

At that moment, all my strength and stubbornness seemed to drain away, the dizziness from the fever finally overwhelming me. My vision darkened, my knees buckled, and I fell forward uncontrollably.