St. Aria Hotel, VIP suite.

"Mom... my sister never agreed to this marriage. Aren’t we going too far, tying her up and bringing her here like this?" The young woman held the older woman’s arm, her pretty face full of hesitation.

"What’s so over the line about it? We’re doing this for her own good. If we didn’t, how would she ever agree to marry Young Master Zhang?" The woman glanced at the unconscious girl on the bed, and there wasn’t a trace of motherly warmth in her eyes.

"But... when she wakes up, won’t she hate us?" The young woman bit her lip, still clearly wavering.

"After some time, she’ll understand our good intentions." The woman patted her hand and spoke like everything she said was perfectly justified. "She grew up in the slums. If the Sinclair family hadn’t taken her back, forget marrying into money—she wouldn’t even have the right to touch high society. The Zhang family is well-known in Haicheng. Once she marries in, she won’t have to worry about the rest of her life. Aren’t we helping her?"

She paused, then continued in a firm, righteous tone, "Besides, if she doesn’t get married, then what about you and Alden Hawthorne? The Hawthorne family is huge. If your sister married into that kind of household, she wouldn’t know a single rule. She’s clumsy, awkward, and if she caused trouble, the one getting dragged down would be our Sinclair family."

"You’re the real lady I raised with my own hands. You’re way more suitable for marrying Alden than your sister is. Didn’t Alden say before that the one he liked was you? Don’t tell me you don’t want to marry him."

Aurora Sinclair had only just woken up, and the first thing she heard was this conversation—her mother, Vivian Sinclair, and her sister, Annabelle Sinclair, calmly plotting her life like she was some disposable prop.

In that instant, her heart clenched so hard it felt like someone had driven a blade straight through it.

Then it dropped, hard, like she had fallen into a bottomless pit.

Why?

Why were they doing this to her?

Just because she wasn’t as polished, as dazzling, as "good" as Annabelle?

At birth, by some cruel twist of fate, she and Annabelle had been switched.

Since childhood, Aurora had grown up in a filthy, chaotic slum, scraping by with barely enough food, getting beaten by her adoptive father whenever he felt like it. Meanwhile, Annabelle had lived under all the light and privilege that should have belonged to Aurora in the first place.

It wasn’t until she was sixteen that she was finally brought back to the Sinclair family.

She had thought that from then on, maybe—just maybe—she would finally have a real home, a normal family, something warm.

What a joke.

That had been nothing but her own delusion.

Her parents had never truly treated her as their biological daughter. If anything, they favored Annabelle at every turn, even though Annabelle had no blood relation to them at all.

Why?

Because Annabelle had been raised as a socialite since childhood. She was more refined, more capable, more useful—better suited to catch a rich husband and bring the Sinclair family more glory, more status, more benefits.

Even so, Aurora had never hated them.

Not once.

She had never fought with Annabelle over anything, never tried to snatch back what was hers, never made a scene.

And still, they weren’t satisfied.

Even knowing she already had a boyfriend, they still knocked her out, dragged her to the hotel, and tried to force her into marrying that useless playboy Young Master Zhang—just so she would give up on Alden completely and clear the way for him and Annabelle.

How ridiculous.

No.

More than ridiculous.

It was a total slap in the face.

Tears slid down from the corners of her eyes.

Aurora Sinclair had never felt fear and helplessness hit this hard before.

She struggled to push herself up, every movement painfully slow, and only then realized her wrists and ankles were tied tight with rope. Even her mouth had been sealed with tape.

At some point, they had even changed her into a wedding dress.

So this was it. They were dead set on forcing her to marry that Young Master Zhang today.

No. No way was she going to let them have their way.

Footsteps came from outside the door. Annabelle Sinclair and Vivian Sinclair stopped talking, and the two of them walked out of the room.

The next second, the heavy door was shoved open, and Young Master Zhang—the guy with that stupid piggish face—swaggered in.

A sleazy grin hung on his face as he rubbed his hands together, looking like he couldn’t wait another second.

Aurora’s eyes widened in terror. She twisted desperately, trying to break free.

Young Master Zhang strolled toward her at an unhurried pace, his shifty little eyes crawling over her as he said, “What’re you scared of? Don’t hide. Come here, let me hold you.”

“My dad’s the big boss of Zhang Corporation. If you marry me, you’ll be living the good life—good food, good money, whatever you want.”

“For a wild girl from the slums like you, this kind of deal is probably the sort of thing you’d laugh yourself awake dreaming about.”

After saying that, he ripped the tape off her mouth in one go and immediately leaned in to kiss her.

Aurora knew she couldn’t overpower him head-on. She forced herself to swallow the disgust clawing up her throat and tried her best to stay calm.

“A wife follows her husband, right? Since my parents already promised me to you, fine, I’ll accept it. But can you untie me first?”

“Well, look at you. You do know what’s good for you.”

Young Master Zhang let out a nasty laugh. Tying her up would only get in the way anyway, so he loosened the ropes without much thought, then lunged at her again like he was starving.

But the second he got close, Aurora suddenly opened her mouth and bit down on his arm with all her strength.

Young Master Zhang yelped in pain, and in reflex, he flung her away.

Aurora Sinclair seized that split second of chance, scrambled onto the windowsill, and jumped without a second thought.

Even if she died, she would never marry that loser. And there was no way she was letting anyone script her life for her.

Young Master Zhang’s face changed on the spot. He lunged to the window, stuck his head out, and yelled, "Are you freaking insane? This is the fifth floor! You think that won’t kill you?"

The instant she flew out the window, Aurora felt a kind of relief she had never known before. Sunlight spilled over her body, warm and bright, and for one breathless moment, she truly felt free.

Then her body suddenly hit a stretch of white gauze. Pink roses pinned to it burst apart from the impact, petals scattering everywhere and wrapping around her like a storm.

Splash!

She crashed hard into a swimming pool, and the shattered petals floated back up across the water.

Right then, a hand suddenly reached out in front of her, clearly trying to pull her ashore.

Still shaken out of her mind, Aurora jerked backward on instinct, her whole body tensing up.

The owner of that hand let out a soft chuckle. "Looks like our bride is shy. She doesn’t want me pulling her up."

"Well, a goddess is a goddess. Not only does she keep all the guests waiting, even her entrance has to be this extra."

"Gorgeous, sure, but wow, the poor swimming pool. Hah!"

The man’s tone was easy and playful, and his words instantly got laughter rippling through the crowd.

Only then did Aurora finally look around properly. The second she did, her breath nearly stopped.

She had fallen into another wedding?

This was a massive hotel garden, and every single detail, from the flowers to the lighting to the table settings, screamed money and taste.

If she remembered right, this should be the hotel’s private restricted area. Only guests who spent above a certain level were allowed in.

And being able to hold a wedding here? That was the kind of thing only a tiny handful of people could manage.

So with one jump, she had actually crashed someone else’s wedding?

Aurora hurriedly got to her feet. Her cheeks burned red in an instant, heat climbing all the way to her ears, and her first reaction was simple.

Run.

The emcee stepped in with a polite smile and lightly blocked her path. "Hey now, is the bride trying to play hide-and-seek? The groom’s been waiting so long he’s about to lose it."

The guests instantly burst into laughter again, the teasing rolling through the venue like a wave.

Not far away, Nathaniel Blackwell stood in a crisp white suit, tall and straight, his expression cold as frost while he spoke on the phone. He had seen it with his own eyes—Aurora Sinclair falling from the hotel window.

His brows drew together slightly. Eyes fixed ahead, he spoke in a low, steady voice. "There won’t be a next time. I’m not going to stay where I am forever, waiting for you. Since, in your heart, your career comes before love, then fine. I wish you a bright future."

The person on the other end seemed to say something in a panic, fast and urgent, but he didn’t bother listening anymore. He cut the call on the spot and strode toward the pool.