I heard the iris blooming

Everyone in Ashford said I’d taken the marriage contract my sister Joyce had cast aside.

After all, Stephen was the moon in the sky, and I was the dust beneath his feet. His light was meant for my sister, whose own brilliance rivaled the sun. I wasn’t even worthy of its glow.

For eleven years, I loved Stephen.

From that breathless glimpse in our youth to later becoming his fiancée in name only, I was like the most devout believer chasing after a god. But my god’s heart belonged to another.

Only when Joyce was left in a coma after a car accident did the Grant family—to fulfill the engagement—let this dubious honor fall to me: Nova, the unremarkable adopted daughter.

I thought this was the culmination of eleven years of foolish devotion.

Little did I know, it was only the beginning of my descent into hell.

---

The night before the wedding, I delivered Stephen’s freshly pressed suit to his villa myself.

He sat beside my sister Joyce’s hospital bed, his usually cold and reserved face softened by a tenderness I’d never seen. Holding her pale hand, his voice was low, intimate. “Joyce, if you don’t wake up soon, I’ll have to marry that girl you hate—Nova.”

An invisible fist seized my heart, stealing my breath.

“You know I’m doing this for you. The Grant family fortune, your father’s company… Only by becoming head of the Grants can I get it all back for you. Once I have control, I’ll divorce her. Then all of Ashford will know that only you, Joyce, are worthy to be my wife.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. The obsession in his eyes plunged me into an icy abyss.

So this marriage was a carefully orchestrated scheme from the start.

I was just a tool to protect his sister and seize power—a stepping stone to be used and discarded.

Eleven years of love, in his eyes, was nothing but a convenient joke.

Stumbling back, I knocked over a vase by the door.

“Who’s there?”

Stephen whirled around. The tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by icy contempt.

“What are you doing here? Eavesdropping? Is this how your family raised you?”

I looked at him, tears falling freely. “Stephen… why are you doing this to me?”

He laughed coldly, rising to close the distance between us. His tall frame seemed to fill the room, radiating overwhelming pressure.

“Doing this *to you*? Nova, know your place. If Joyce weren’t lying here, do you think you’d ever be allowed past the Grant family gates? You were her shadow then, and now you’re just her stand-in.”

“A stand-in…” I whispered, my heart shattering.

“Wipe that pathetic look off your face. Tomorrow, you’ll play your part as the obedient bride. Remember—play your role well, and don’t cause me trouble. Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to make you and your sickly mother disappear from Ashford together.”

His words were poisoned daggers, each one striking deep.