Chapter 3

Vivian Sommers's POV

I was held in an abandoned wedding venue deep in the mountains.

The walls still had faded, peeling "Just Married" banners.

At night, the cold wind howled through the broken windows, rustling the plastic ribbons. It sounded like someone was laughing at me in the dark.

The kidnappers had been careful with me at first.

But when they realized no money was coming, their patience wore thin. I was beaten, and they forced me to pose for terrifying photos.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the agonizing realization that I had been abandoned.

I found a moment of chaos during a shift change and ran.

It was pouring rain. The mountain paths were pure mud and rock.

I didn't know how long I ran. I only remember the sharp rocks slicing open the soles of my feet. The pinky finger on my left hand was broken, and it would never fully straighten again.

In the distance, I saw bright lights.

I ran toward them. It was the venue for Julian's celebration party.

Large screens lined the hall, reading: A New Era: Strategic Partnership.

The room was filled with reporters, investors, and employees.

I was wearing a torn, dirty plastic tarp I had found in a shed. When I stumbled into the bright hall, the entire room fell dead silent.

Every single camera turned toward me.

I saw Julian.

And I saw Mila standing right next to him.

I reached my hand out to him, my voice barely a whisper. "Julian... save me."

Julian's face turned incredibly dark.

He stepped down from the stage, but he didn't hold me. Instead, he stood in front of the cameras, blocking their view of me, and whispered, "What are you doing here?"

I froze.

I was covered in blood and mud, barely able to stand.

And his first question was why was I here.

Mila walked over with a polite, gentle smile, offering me a blanket like a saint. "Vivian, please don't ruin the press conference. You're making things very difficult for Julian."

I grabbed Julian's sleeve. "They beat me, Julian. They threatened me. I called you... why didn't you come?"

A flash of irritation crossed Julian's eyes.

"I sent Mila to negotiate with them," he said. "You could have just waited. Why did you have to crash this event today?"

It felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

"Wait?" My voice shook violently. "How long was I supposed to wait?"

Julian lowered his voice, hisswhispering so the mic wouldn't catch it. "Vivian, you used to be so sensible. Why can't you just behave?"

Behave.

There it was again.

I finally understood. Mila hadn't come up with that phrase on her own.

The press conference quickly descended into absolute chaos.

Though Julian managed to scrub the internet of the worst stories, some photos still leaked.

People whispered that the Sommers heiress had lost her mind, that she was throwing a tantrum to ruin her fiancé's big day, and speculated about what had happened to me in the mountains.

Nobody asked if I was hurt.

Later, in the dressing room, Mila handed me the DNA test results with a smug smile.

"Do you really think the Sommers family will still burn the world down for you?" she mocked. "You're just an outsider who got swapped at birth. Julian is being incredibly generous by keeping you around."

That was the moment I realized the ground beneath my feet had been completely swept away.

My parents remained silent.

Julian was cold.

And Mila stood by, watching me fall from grace.

That night, they kept me in a small holding room next to the venue.

Outside, the staff were packing up. Trash cans clattered, and damp footsteps marked the carpet.

I sat in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in the blanket, but I couldn't stop shivering.

Outside the door, people were gossiping.

"Was that really Vivian Sommers?"

"Looked like her. But how did she end up looking like a street dog?"

"Julian is so unlucky. His biggest night completely ruined by her."

I listened to their whispers, feeling a deep, hollow absurdity.

I had almost died in those mountains, but their first reaction was that Julian was unlucky.

When you are broken enough, even being the victim makes you an embarrassment.

Julian came in once.

He stood near the door, keeping his distance, and told his assistant to take me to the hospital.

I looked up at him, hoping he would come with me, but his phone rang, and he turned around to answer it.

In that second, I stopped pretending he was just too busy.

He simply didn't care about me anymore.