Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

With deliberate movements, Fernanda pulled a piece of clothing from her suitcase, her voice sharp and cool. “This is none of your concern. I think it’s time for you to leave p>

All she wanted in that moment was for the man to go.

Just moments before, when he had held her, his fingers had lingered against her back for a bit too long. The calluses on his fingertips were rough, betraying more experience than most. His skill with a knife and his quick reflexes suggested a background that was anything but ordinary.

Fernanda quickly shut down any curiosity about his past.

From below, the blare of a car horn shattered the silence. The man stood up smoothly.

Earlier, during their brief intimacy, he had loosened his shirt, though his trousers were still perfectly in place. He buttoned his shirt as he approached the window, then tossed something casually to Fernanda. “My apologies for any discomfort caused earlier. Consider this your compensation,” he said with a nod.

With the fluid grace of a panther, he leapt out the window. Fernanda moved to the window and peered into the night, watching as, under the pale streetlights, he scaled the wall with ease. He moved along the ledges until he melted into the shadows.

She bent down to pick up what he had left—a sleek black card.

After such a chaotic night, this felt like appropriate compensation. Fernanda slipped the card into her pocket and closed the curtains.

The next morning, the butler approached Fernanda, concern etched across his face. “Miss Morgan, I hope you managed to rest last night. There was an inspection for a burglary, which caused quite a disturbance p>

She shrugged and muttered, “It was fine p>

As they drove, the butler watched Fernanda through the rearview mirror. Reclined in her seat, she gazed out the window, her elegant profile lost in contemplative silence.

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He quietly noted to himself that she did not fit the image of a typical country-raised youth. Her calm sophistication and graceful demeanor set her apart, enhancing her natural charm and making her effortlessly endearing.

After two days of travel, Fernanda stepped into the bustling streets of Esaham. The city was a vibrant metropolis, alive with crowded avenues and a constant flow of traffic.

Shortly after 8 a.m., a stretch Lincoln limousine glided into the upscale estate of Dawn Villas, coming to a stop in front of a majestic three-story white villa.

Stepping gracefully out of the limousine, Fernanda let her gaze wander over the grandeur before her. The villa, both opulent and imposing, was a clear testament to enormous wealth. Her lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile as she looked it over.

This was her father Robert Morgan’s home. From humble beginnings, he had risen to wealth and status with her late mother’s unwavering support.

But after amassing his fortune, Robert had coldly abandoned her mother, choosing instead to revel in life with his mistress.

That woman—Michelle Morgan—had contributed nothing to his success, yet now sat smugly in the seat Fernanda’s mother had rightfully earned. Michelle basked in the luxuries and respect that were never hers to claim. Worse still, she had flaunted her victory, parading her stolen life in front of Fernanda’s grieving mother—a cruelty that ultimately led to her mother’s untimely death.

To the world, Michelle was known as Robert’s second wife, a symbol of grace and charm. Michelle even had the audacity to claim she was Fernanda’s real mother. But Fernanda knew better. Behind that polished façade lay the truth, raw and unforgiving.

Fernanda’s dark eyes briefly hardened, a flicker of steely determination shining within them. Her mother was no longer here to seek justice, but Fernanda was determined to deliver it on her behalf.

At that moment, the villa’s grand doors swung open, revealing the very pair responsible for the upheaval in her life.

Robert stood tall and immaculate, the sharp lines of his tailored suit emphasizing his stature. His gold-rimmed glasses caught the warm light, adding an air of calculated sophistication.

At his side was Michelle, the picture of elegance. Her fitted dress hugged her poised figure perfectly, exuding refinement and composure.

“Fernanda, you’ve come back.” Robert greeted her warmly, a smile playing on his lips as he motioned her over. “Come in p>

Fernanda’s eyes dropped, hiding the storm of emotions swirling within her. With a tentative step, she moved closer.

With an arm around Michelle’s waist, Robert gestured toward her. “Fernanda, this is your mother p>

He nodded casually toward the living room. “And that’s Erika, your sister p>

On the couch, Erika Morgan was absorbed in the television, only glancing up when Fernanda approached. Her eyes narrowed critically at Fernanda’s plain dress, her lips curling into a sneer. With an exaggerated eye-roll and a sarcastic tone, Erika muttered, “That country bumpkin? Dad, she’s no sister of mine p>

Michelle stepped toward Fernanda with a warm smile, linking her arm with Fernanda’s. “Oh, Fernanda, Erika’s just teasing. Pay her no mind. I’ve prepared breakfast for you. You must be starving. Let’s have something to eat p>

Without a word, Fernanda slipped her arm free and walked determinedly into the dining room.

Michelle paused, her smile faltering as confusion crossed her face. She turned to Robert, her voice edged with concern. “Robert, what’s gotten into her p>

He sighed, his tone a mix of empathy and resignation. “Fernanda was raised in the countryside. She’s a bit unrefined, that’s all. It’s nothing against you, Michelle p>

Michelle nodded slowly, her smile returning with renewed resolve. “No worries,” she murmured. “I’ll guide her as she settles in, teach her the essentials of elegance, and help shape her into a poised young woman p>

Robert gave her a supportive pat on the back, his expression reassuring.

In the dining room, Michelle took a seat beside Fernanda.

“Fernanda, you must try this beef,” Michelle insisted, placing a tender slice onto Fernanda’s plate. “It’s Erika’s favorite p>

Fernanda immediately picked up the beef and dropped it onto an empty plate, her expression showing clear disgust. “That’s gross,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of any warmth.