Shattered Rose: He Held On Tight Free Preview

Bang!

The doors to the event room burst open.

"Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.

The words hit like a bomb.

The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.

The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock.

"What did you just say?"

Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"

The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.

And now that their goddess was hurt?

No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.

Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted.

"Jasper—"

The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.

That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.

Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.

In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.

But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing.

"You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.

Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.

Now, halfway out the door, he froze.

He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?"

"What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."

Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight."

"My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.

Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.

But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.

A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine.

"Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?"

"Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in.

"Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."

The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.

Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."

It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.

He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.

That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.

This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been.

"Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"

Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough.

"Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"

As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.

Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!"

"Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth."

"Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"

Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm.

"If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."

Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."

He turned and strode out without another glance.

He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.

He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.

He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.

The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.

One by one, they slipped away.

In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.

Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.

As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?"

"Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?"

"Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?"

"The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."

The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.

Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.

Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.

Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.

Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?

But honestly?

No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.

And Jasper would never choose her.

The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.

Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.

On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug.

"You lost."

Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia.

"You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"

Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice.

"I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?"

"So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.

Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"

She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."

Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.

She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.

…

After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.

When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.

It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.

Then, she froze.

The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.

She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.

Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.

Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.

Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.

He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.

She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this.

"Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake.

"Jasper, someone's following me."

Silence.

Then, his voice—cold, dismissive.

"Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."

He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.

Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand.

"Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."

She hung up without hesitation.

On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant.

"Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"

Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."

Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.

By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.

That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.

Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"

Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.

He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."

Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—"

"Don't. You're never a burden."

"Jasper…"

"Sleep."

Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.

…

Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.

The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.

They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.

Then she moved.

Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.

After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.

One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—

Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.

A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly.

"Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"

Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.

There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.

All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.

That wolf had died by his hands in the end.

And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.

Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.

Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.

Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.

Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.

The alley was filled with screams.

A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.

They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.

Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.

The ringleader was already losing it.

Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement.

"You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"

Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.

Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.

Sterling's brow furrowed.

Filthy.

He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.

His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up.

He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.

A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.

Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.

Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night.

"No one ever told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Not to stick your nose in other people's business."

Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.

“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.

Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh.

"That's how you treat your savior?"

He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.

“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"

...

That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.

Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment.

Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.

Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.

Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is."

"Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.

Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.

Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done.

...

Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.

Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap.

"How did I raise a daughter like you?"

She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.

The room froze.

Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.

Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.

She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.

She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.

After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.

Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia and slapped her instead—hard.

She couldn't hit her father, but she could sure as hell hit his darling.

It happened so fast, everyone just stared.

Even Lottie, who'd felt a flicker of pity, shot to her feet, shrieking, "Claudia! What do you think you're..."

The second slap landed before she could finish.

Lydia's face was perfectly symmetrical now.

Clarence was the first to move. He grabbed Claudia and yanked her back, shoving her hard before she could swing again.

Her lower back slammed into the corner of a cabinet—right where she'd been hurt the night before. Pain ripped through her, sharp enough to steal her breath, but the sound of it got swallowed by the chorus of outraged voices. No one noticed.

Every eye was on Lydia's face. Zane shot Claudia a murderous glare before bolting for the first-aid kit. Jasper and Lottie crowded around Lydia, fussing over the swelling.

Lydia herself just sat there, stunned. That wretch actually hit me?

Sure, Claudia had acted out before—but always with words. Never hands. Their fights always ended the same: Lydia calm and composed, Claudia fuming and defeated. Never the other way around. What had gotten into her tonight?

Rage gnawed at Lydia's chest, but when she finally spoke, her voice came out soft, trembling, perfectly wounded.

"Claudia, I know you don't like me… but what exactly did I do wrong today?"

Wilson rounded on his daughter. "Why did you hit Lydia?"

Claudia let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Then why did you hit me?"

Her chin lifted. "Violence first, verdict later. Didn't I learn that from you?"

Wilson flinched—thinking of the slap he'd just given her—but anger quickly swallowed the guilt.

"I hit you because you hired someone to run Lydia off the road. And you still dare deny it? Is this what I taught you? To hurt your own family, break the law, and feel no shame?"

"Hired someone?" Claudia's mind flicked back to last night's accident, and her mouth curved into a cold smile. "So… where's the proof?"

Wilson jabbed a finger at her. "Proof? The driver already confessed—you bribed him. If Lydia weren't so kind and forgiving, you'd be in jail right now. Do you understand that?"

"So besides the driver's so-called confession, you've got nothing."

Lydia jumped in right on cue, voice shaking just enough to sound fragile.

"Claudia, I never knew you hated me this much. If you really can't stand me, I'll leave. I'll walk out of the Lancaster family, leave Liberty City, disappear from your life, okay? Just… don't keep fighting with Mom and Dad because of me. The Lancasters will always be your home. Yours alone."

Claudia snorted. "Heh. If you really wanted to disappear, you would've done it ages ago."

"Watch your mouth!" Wilson roared. "The only reason Lydia is in this family is because of you. What right do you have to drive her out?"

Claudia's lips pressed tight. The words she wanted to throw back rose in her throat, hot and cruel—but she couldn't say them.

Because she knew.

Lydia's mother had died for her.

That truth had chained her for over a decade—cost her her parents, her brothers, her home, her future. She was guilty. She was the one who had to bow her head and pay.

Zane came running back with the medicine and shot her a look full of disgust. "If anyone needs to go, it's you. Having a sister like you is shameful. Before, you were just spoiled. Now you're a criminal."

Clarence's voice went cold. "Claudia, apologize to Lydia."

Claudia drew a steady breath. "I'm not confessing to something I didn't do."

Wilson's rage flared again. He raised his hand—but this time, Claudia slipped out of reach.

She turned to Lottie and Jasper, both silent. "You two think I did it too?"

Nothing. Not a single word.

Claudia's smile turned brittle. "Got it."

She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. Facing them, she said evenly, "Even if I were guilty, the law decides that—not your baseless verdicts. I'm not taking the fall."

The Lancasters froze. That ungrateful girl—she'd called the cops.

Wilson sank onto the sofa, panting with fury.

Behind her ice pack, Lydia's face flickered with panic.

"Family business shouldn't be aired in public," Wilson snapped. "Lydia has already forgiven you—she didn't want to make things worse. But since you insist—fine. Then live with the consequences."

Clarence hesitated, then said coldly, "If you're convicted, the Lancasters won't bail you out. Think about that."

Even now, none of them thought they were wronging her. They all figured she was bluffing—just bold because she thought they had no proof. Arrogant. Infuriating.

Somewhere in each of them was the same thought: If we can't teach her a lesson, the police will.

Only Jasper stepped forward, catching Claudia's wrist. "Claudia, apologize to Lydia. As long as she doesn't press charges, this ends here."

Zane piled on. "Yeah, you slapped her twice for no reason. Just apologize already."

Claudia let out a low, cutting laugh. "Those two slaps? One paid back Dad's that I took on her behalf. The other was for the thugs she hired to come after me last night. Cause and effect—both of them. Why should I apologize?"

Lottie's eyes filled with disappointment. "The driver already confessed, and now you're accusing your cousin of hiring thugs? Claudia, you're the one wronging her. She lost her mother because of you. No one expects you to treat her like a saint, but the least you could do is stop repaying kindness with cruelty. You've gone too far, for too long."

No one asked where Claudia had been last night. No one asked if she was hurt.

You can't reason with people who refuse to see.

Claudia's laugh came out hollow. “Right. Of course. What else can I say? I'm exactly the ungrateful villain you've all called me for years. And now you think you've finally seen the real me?"

Seeing her about to clash with their parents again, Jasper stepped in—gentle, but firm.

"Claudia, if this is about me, I swear—there's nothing between Lydia and me. Please don't gamble your future over this. Just apologize, and it's over."

The driver had claimed he needed money for a sick relative. Everyone decided Claudia had acted out of jealousy—thought Lydia was a threat, and did something reckless.

Jasper and Claudia had grown up together, dated officially for three years. Their engagement had been postponed again and again—yes, partly because of Lydia, but not in the way Claudia thought. She used to be kind, pure, gentle. Why couldn't she see reason now? Why fight Lydia at every turn?

Claudia looked at the man who, on paper, was her boyfriend—the man who used to stand in front of her, shield her from the world. How many times had he picked the other side now?

"No." Her voice didn't waver. "If you want to brand me as someone who paid to hurt a person, I'm not swallowing it."

Because Claudia refused to bow, the very next day, she was hauled back to the station—this time, with the whole family in tow.

The day shift had just come on when the officers heard the story — that the woman who'd called 911 was also the suspect.

They did a double-take, wondering if they were still half-asleep.

Usually, when someone walks into a police station on their own to clear their name, they're either a cocky criminal who thinks they're untouchable… or actually innocent.

One look at the young woman standing in front of them — calm, steady — and most of them were leaning toward the latter.

But with the "victim's" family swearing up and down otherwise, they had to play it by the book.

Then came the twist — the victim and the suspect lived under the same roof. The cherished one was the adopted daughter; the one standing alone, defending herself, was the biological daughter.

The female officer taking the statement could already feel a headache coming on as she tried to untangle the family tree. Two Lancaster brothers — one cold, one loud — glaring at their own sister like she was a sworn enemy.

And the supposed motive?

The biological daughter had been "jealous" for years. Jealous of the adopted one's perfect halo. Jealous enough to try to take her out.

The officer's gaze drifted across the room — to the so-called boyfriend. He was crouched beside the pale, coughing Lydia, fussing over her like a nurse: tucking a blanket around her shoulders, offering her water, whispering softly.

The officer nearly rolled her eyes. Seriously? Do they have to be caught in bed before anyone admits what's going on?

Her eyes flicked back to Claudia, who sat quietly, answering every question without attitude. Something in the girl's composure tugged at her.

Claudia noticed, and offered a small, easy smile.

It made the officer's pulse skip. How could a girl like that be capable of trying to kill someone? Side by side, Lydia looked like the pampered princess; Claudia looked like the one left out in the cold. This reeked of a family mess, not a criminal case.

Still — feelings don't run cases.

The officer wandered over with a paper cup of hot tea, a few snack packets, and a chocolate bar, setting them quietly within reach.

She'd noticed earlier when a maid brought breakfast for the family — no plate for Claudia. The favoritism was out in the open.

Lydia's injuries turned out to be minor, and she didn't want to press charges, but "arranging for a driver to run someone over" wasn't something you just shrug off. So the cops handled it carefully.

The next step was simple: question the driver.

He admitted to taking money — but not from Claudia. The payment came from Julie Stone, a classmate of both girls.

Julie and Lydia danced in the same troupe, rivals for the spotlight. Julie confessed she only wanted Lydia hurt enough to lose her lead role. She also knew Claudia and Lydia had bad blood — and since Claudia had bullied her in high school, Julie decided to get revenge and frame Claudia while she was at it.

She'd figured that even if suspicion landed on Claudia, Lydia would protect her out of "sisterly loyalty," and it would all blow over.

She hadn't counted on Claudia refusing to take the fall.

In the end, Julie's dance career went up in smoke. But Lydia wasn't seriously injured, and she sympathized with the driver's situation, so she agreed to a private settlement. Neither Julie nor the driver suffered much.

Julie didn't blink. Losing her dance career stung, but she came from an ordinary family — it was just a paycheck. She could live with it.

As she walked past Claudia, she shot her a sideways glance that said it all.

Sure, you cleared your name. But did you really win?

Because Lydia still stood untouched, the golden girl on her pedestal.

Julie let out a low, mocking laugh. So what if you were born rich? In the end, you're no better off than the rest of us nobodies.

When the truth finally came out, the Lancasters looked… awkward.

Wilson thought about the slap he'd given Claudia that morning. Regret pricked, but blame came out instead.

"If you hadn't been so domineering and bullied your classmate, nobody could've used her against Lydia."

Claudia almost laughed. "So by your logic, if a strand of her hair falls out, it's my fault for walking by and stirring the air? If she's that fragile, maybe bubble-wrap her and stick her on a pedestal."

"What kind of garbage are you spewing?!" Wilson snapped, hand lifting for another swing. "There you go, slandering Lydia again!"

“Hey! No hitting in the station!" the note-taking officer barked.

Lydia broke into a fit of coughing that left her gasping. Lottie rushed to her, glaring daggers at her husband and sons. "Lydia's health is already fragile, and now she's dragged down here at dawn to suffer more. Claudia, when will you learn to be sensible?"

Clarence's tone was cold as stone. "You knew you were innocent. Why couldn't you just say so? Did you have to haul us all to the station and make a spectacle?"

Zane sneered. "Maybe she wanted the drama. She only feels alive when she's center stage."

Claudia didn't flinch. She'd lived this scene too many times.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "I'm awful. I'm vicious. But at least I'm still human. Unlike you — all polished faces and rotten hearts, brains for decoration, and eyes that only see what they want."

Pfft—

A couple of officers couldn't help but snicker.

The poor girl had almost been railroaded for a crime she didn't commit, and her family's biggest concern was still the adopted daughter.

Finally, the female officer stepped forward with a polite smile. “Ms. Lancaster, we've confirmed you're not involved. You're free to go home and get some rest. Ms. Lydia, as the victim, we may still need your cooperation later."

Claudia didn't bother replying. She thanked her softly and turned to leave.

Jasper half-rose to follow her, but Lydia swayed weakly, and he immediately stayed put.

Instead, Lottie called out, "Claudia, where are you going? Your engagement to Jasper is less than a month away. You should stay home until then."

The guests and banquet could be handled without her — but the dress fittings needed her there.

At the word engagement, Lydia's eyes dropped, fingers tightening around Jasper's arm.

Claudia turned, smile sharp as glass. “Mrs. Lancaster, open your eyes. Who's Jasper holding right now? You really think it's appropriate to plan an engagement party for me and him?"

Every head in the room turned toward the pair, still half-tangled together.

Handsome man. Delicate beauty. Picture-perfect.

Except one was the older sister, the other the soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Indecent, right? And yet—

"In my opinion," Zane cut in, sneering, "only dirty minds see dirt everywhere. Lydia's sick, Jasper's just helping. You're petty and jealous, Claudia — so jealous even this offends you."