Beyond the Family's Shadow

Dante’s eyes locked onto the packed suitcase, and his gut twisted.

He spoke, his voice a low rumble.

"Elara. Where do you think you're going?"

"Sketching."

Elara lied, her face a mask, meeting Leo's suspicious gaze head-on.

"Professor recommended Newport upstate for a sketching trip. Course requirement. I need these supplies."

"Absolutely not!"

Her father, reclined on the sofa, shot the idea down without a second thought.

"Put your things back. Serena's changing seasons, easily allergic. She could need a transfusion any minute. You're not going anywhere. You'll stay home, on standby."

Her mother chimed in, snatching Elara's backpack. It hit the coffee table with a loud thud, spilling her passport.

"I'll keep your passport safe. If you leave, what about your sister? Who gives her blood? You're trying to hurt your sister!"

Dante stood by, straightening his cuffs. His tone was deceptively mild, his words steel.

"Elara, be sensible. This is family duty. Once Serena is stable, I'll take you to Paris. Shop all you want. Hermes, Chanel,whatever you pick, it’s yours."

Family duty.

The words were chains, binding Elara for two lifetimes, choking her.

She watched her mother lock the passport in the safe. A Swiss bank-grade vault. She couldn't get it open.

But a cold laugh echoed in her mind.

Did they think a passport could trap her?

Julian Thorne's private jet didn't need one.

In that man's world, he made the rules.

It was a pass for privilege, a black card to freedom.

"Okay." Elara lowered her head, feigning compliance, the mockery hidden deep in her eyes. "I'm not going."

Just survive this week.

In three days, it would be her and Serena's twentieth birthday.

On the calendar, the date was circled in red, filled with hearts, labeled "Serena's Princess Day."

Not a single mark for Elara. As if it were just her sister's celebration.

Since she could remember, this was the norm.

Serena was the princess in the spotlight. Elara, the shadow in the corner.

Her birthday was a feast. Elara's was a service day.

But this year would be different.

Elara counted down silently in her head.

Three days.

Three more days, and she’d be free.

At dinner, the family buzzed, discussing party details.

"I want that custom pink Valentino gown! It's from this season's limited run!"

Serena's cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. "Dante, what do you think?"

"You look stunning in anything, my princess of New York." Dante stroked her head, his gaze soft enough to melt.

"Oh, and the champagne tower needs seven tiers. Seven's Serena's lucky number. And we need a band," her mother added.

Elara ate in silence, a ghost at the table.

Suddenly, Serena turned to Elara, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if it just occurred to her.

"Sister, what are you wearing that day? How about my old blue dress? It's two seasons out of style, and a little loose, but we can alter it. You're the older sister; you can't look too shabby and embarrass the Vane name."

Bare naked humiliation.

But Elara offered a faint smile, setting down her cutlery.

"No need. I have plans."

No one pressed her about her plans.

They didn't care.

They didn't even remember it was her birthday, too.

To them, she was just background noise for the party, or a blood bag on standby.

But Elara knew. That day would be her rebirth, and the Vane family's nightmare would begin.