Chapter 1

Penelope's POV

That night, I had just stepped out of surgery when they grabbed me.

Over a dozen men dragged me into the shadows of the parking garage.

Fists. Bats. Knives.

When I woke up in the hospital bed, my life as I knew it was over.

The nerves in my hands were damaged beyond repair. I would never hold a scalpel again. My spinal cord was injured. I’d spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.

I thought it was a random attack.

When my brother Lysander sat at my bedside, eyes red-rimmed, swearing he'd make those bastards pay, I believed him.

When my fiancé Nicholas held my hand, trembling, promising to find the best medical team in the world, I felt comforted.

I looked at them both and thought: It's okay. Even after everything, I still have the two men who love me most in this world.

Until one week later.

I was wheeling myself past the stairwell when I heard two familiar voices.

"Have you lost your mind?" That was... Nicholas. "The plan was just to make her miss the conference. Now Penny can't even use her hands!"

My wheelchair stopped.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard my ears started ringing.

Then came Lysander's voice.

"Those thugs got carried away. But look at the bright side — the neurosurgery award? It's Charlotte's now. No contest."

My blood turned to ice.

"But—" Nicholas hesitated.

"No buts." Lysander cut him off. "Penny's a trust fund princess. She's been pampered her whole life. I'm her brother, you're her fiancé — with us looking out for her, she'll be fine. Even crippled, she'll want for nothing."

"Charlotte's different." He paused. "She's adopted. She's had to fight for every scrap. She's been dying to win that award, but Penny's too talented. Too much in the way. Charlotte has no one to rely on except me. I won't let anyone stand in her path."

I heard Nicholas let out a long sigh.

"Fine." His voice carried the weight of surrender. "Penny's in so much pain she can barely sleep. Just... make sure the doctors give her the good painkillers."

Footsteps faded away.

Silence swallowed the corridor.

I sat in my wheelchair, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

So those men in the parking garage weren't random.

This was orchestrated. By the two people I trusted most.

I opened my mouth to scream, to cry out — but grief and rage choked in my throat, and all that escaped was a strangled whimper.

I didn't understand.

Lysander was my blood. After our parents died, he was my only family in this world.

Nicholas was my fiancé. He'd sworn to protect me forever.

And they destroyed me.

For an adopted sister.

Twelve years ago, a fire took my parents — and brought Charlotte Vanderbilt into my life.

Her parents died alongside mine, so the Ashworth family took her in.

I still remember the first time she stood in our living room, timidly calling me "Penny."

I gave her my favorite Barbie doll, naively thinking: Finally, I have a little sister.

I had no idea this "helpless" little sister would become the greatest curse of my life.

First, Charlotte broke my late father's favorite antique vase — one of the few things I had left of him. She pointed at me with tears in her eyes and said I did it.

Then she "accidentally" lost my research paper. Oops. So sorry.

Every single time, Lysander would frown at me: "Penny, knock it off."

And Nicholas would rub his temples and sigh: "Charlotte didn't mean it. Just cut her some slack."

Things only got worse.

The paper I spent three sleepless months writing? Published under Charlotte's name.

The overseas fellowship I worked so hard to get? Charlotte went instead.

I watched everything that was mine slowly slip into her hands.

The most pathetic part? I actually believed I wasn't good enough.

It wasn't until today that I finally understood: from the very beginning, everything I held dear had been handed to Charlotte on a silver platter — by the two men I trusted most.

I don't know how long I sat in that corner.

I couldn't think of a single reason to keep living.

My hands were ruined. My legs were useless.

The only family and love I had left were the same people who'd pushed me into hell.

I closed my eyes. The image of a rooftop railing flickered through my mind.

Maybe... if I jumped, it would all be over.

That's when my phone buzzed.

An unknown number glowed on the screen.

I stared at it for a long time. Finally, I answered.

"Miss Ashworth." The voice on the other end was calm, professional. "This is Azura Institute. We've heard about what happened to you. Perhaps... you'd like to join us?"

I laughed. And as I laughed, tears streamed down my face.

"I'm useless now. I'd just be a burden."

"No." The voice was steady, certain. "We can give you a second chance. We can make you hold a scalpel again. Walk again."

"But there's one condition: once you join the Institute, you must sever all ties with your past. No contact with family or friends. To the outside world, Penelope Ashworth will be dead."

I stared at the hospital ceiling, and suddenly, death didn't seem so frightening anymore.

Penelope Ashworth.

The woman who'd been cherished for twenty-eight years — then crushed to pieces.

Maybe she really should die.

"Okay." I heard my own voice, cold and calm as if I were talking about someone else. "I accept. Tell me what I need to do."