Chapter 4

Tom chuckled along. "Laurelle is gorgeous, though. With her face and body, you've got countless men infinitely jealous of you, Maverick. She would've been such a great decorative addition to our homes." He glanced at Maverick and threw a card out. "If you aren't engaged, do you have it in you to let her marry someone else?" Maverick had been silent all along. He suddenly interjected dismissively, "You like her? You can have her." Tom froze. Feeling awkward, he could only force a laugh to play it off. "Who here doesn't know that you're the only man Laurelle adores? She's been unwavering for the past few years, trailing after you. I'm not as lucky as you are." Laurelle flinched. Then, bitterness marred her features. Everyone knew that she liked Maverick. Yet, he'd promised her off to another man as though he was nothing more than an object. Her eyes watered as her nails sank into her palm. She felt as though there was a hand around her throat, dunking her into water. She couldn't breathe. As she flailed, she felt as though she'd gone back in time to when she'd been 14. Back then, Laurelle had just come to the capital from a rural village. William had sent her to the best private school then. Initially, she'd thought it was a whole new start to life. However, Bianca had sown seeds of animosity in the people around her and hindered Laurelle from being able to befriend her wealthy classmates. In the end, she'd been ostracized. During a snowstorm once, Laurelle had been locked in an outdoor lavatory. She'd curled into a ball and trembled in the toilet. No one had saved her despite her desperate screams. It had been Maverick who'd finally kicked the door down. Laurelle could still recall the scene as though it had happened yesterday. Maverick had stood on one of the steps as snowflakes had swirled behind him. His uniform had fluttered in the wind, while his hair had been wet against his forehead. It had been too dark, so Laurelle hadn't been able to see his expression. She'd only seen him take his scarf off and throw it to her. He'd turned away and left while stating, "It's yours now." In the eyes of 14-year-old Laurelle, 17-year-old Maverick had been akin to her knight in shining armor—the first beam of life to brighten up her dull life. From that day onward, she'd been his little follower, trailing after faithfully him for seven long years. However, her light had gone out. In Maverick's eyes, was she nothing more than a dispensable object? Laurelle suppressed her pain and walked to the window. She dialed a number she hadn't called for a long time. Before they picked up, someone called her from behind. "Laurelle. You're back?" Laurelle glanced at her phone. With no other option, she could only hang up and turn around. Her mother, Leona Smith, was surprised to see her here. She walked over suspiciously while asking, "When did you get out?" She'd remembered Bianca's birthday but had forgotten that her biological daughter was being released from jail on the same day. "Why have you gotten so skinny?" Leona scanned her from head to toe. "A little hardship will do you good. It'll teach you to remember what to do. We're not going to hold what you did against you. Today is your sister's birthday. Change into an evening gown and come downstairs immediately." Once she was done, she added as an afterthought, "Oh, right. We converted your room into a poker room during the three years you were gone. Change in Bianca's room for now. I'll ask someone to bring the clothes over." With that, Laurelle was shoved into Bianca's room. The smell caused a wave of nausea to wash over her. She rushed to the toilet to vomit. She heard noises from outside. The household staff had come over with the evening gown. Laurelle leaned on the sink, tears glistening in her eyes. Once the nausea subsided, she washed her face and headed out. "I'm not pregnant." Laurelle knew what they wanted to say. Her eyes were red as a result of her heaving. It made her look extremely weak. "Tell Bianca that there's no point in making a big deal out of this." The household staff exchanged awkward smiles. "What are you going on about, Ms. Fletcher? Change into your evening gown and head downstairs as soon as possible. Mrs. Fletcher is waiting." Laurelle said nothing. This birthday party was for Bianca; she was only an accessory. Unwilling to put on an act of sisterly love with Bianca on an empty stomach, Laurelle headed to the kitchen to get some food. She had barely gotten two bites in before someone knocked on the door. It was a maid from just now. "Mrs. Fletcher is looking for you. She's got something to say to you. Please go downstairs as soon as possible!" Laurelle swallowed the food in her mouth. Then, she met the maid's eyes and stated, "I'm not feeling well. I don't want to go downstairs." The maid froze. Clearly, she hadn't expected Laurelle to turn her down. "Mrs. Fletcher said that today is Ms. Bianca's birthday, and yours as well. It would be inappropriate if you didn't show up, as it would seem as though you two don't get along." "When have Bianca and I ever gotten along?" The maid felt like she'd gotten slapped across the face. Thankfully, Laurelle had stood up and walked out. In the hall, Bianca was surrounded by a crowd of wealthy girls. She had a glass of white wine in her hands and was about to lift it to her lips. Suddenly, a voice rang out, "Ms. Bianca, you mustn't drink that. It has been laced with something!"