1.Chapter 1 I'm Home The North was buried under a thick blanket of snow, the landscape a frozen white as far as the eye could see. A frail woman, dressed in threadbare clothes that did little to shield her from the cold, was carefully guided out by two policewomen.

This was Stella Hayes, a survivor of abduction, finally rescued from Dusty Pines, a small town, after three long years. Home, at last.

Her once-luminous eyes—large and striking—were now sunken deep into her gaunt, hollowed face, no bigger than a child's palm.

She kept them tightly shut, the daylight too harsh after years spent in darkness. Then she ducked her head slightly, the dimmer light easing the strain on her sensitive eyes.

The officers supported her as she shuffled forward, her legs weak and uncooperative.

She hated being a burden, but years of confinement in a sunless cave had left her muscles atrophied, her circulation so poor she could barely stand, let alone walk. For now, she had no choice but to lean on them.

Max Hayes, Stella's brother, had been on the phone with Anna, his another sister. When he spotted the three of them, he stepped out of the idling SUV, the heater still blasting warm air inside.

"Mr. Hayes, you came alone?" one of the officers asked.

"Yeah," Max replied smoothly. "The rest of the family's at home, putting together a welcome for her."

The officers nodded. It made sense—after three years missing, of course the Hayes family would want to celebrate Stella's return. Satisfied, they gently transferred Stella into Max's care before heading back.

The moment the officers were out of sight, Max's grip loosened. Stella, unprepared, crumpled to the ground. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her legs—the faint sensation she'd only just begun to regain now flaring into agony.

Max's polite facade vanished. His expression turned icy, his voice dripping with disdain. "Three years gone, and you're still pulling the same act," he sneered.

His voice was calmer now, but the contempt was the same. The same old favoritism, and the same disgust reserved only for her.

The words cut deeper than the pain in Stella's legs. When the kidnappers had demanded 1.5 million to free just one of Anna and Stella, their parents were torn. It was Max who made the decision without a second thought: "Take Anna."

That choice sealed Stella's fate—she was sold off, nearly shipped to Middle-South Yaria, and survived hell only to end up trapped in Dusty Pines.

Swallowing the bitterness rising in her throat, Stella tried to push herself up. Her legs trembled, useless. She collapsed back onto the snow.

Max scoffed, "I'd think three years would've taught you—your little performances have never worked on me, and they never will."

Stella froze. She and Anna were twins, identical in looks but not in how they were treated. While Anna seemed delicate, Stella came across as manipulative for the same reasons.

Like when Anna snuck hot water when no one was around. When she spilled it and screamed, the whole family rushed over, fawning over Anna and asking, "Stella, are you so jealous that you'd try to burn your own sister?"

And Stella was left right there, scalded and forgotten. The scars still mark her legs.

Stella gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand upright, trembling slightly. Then, with a deliberate air of calm, she gave a sarcastic nod. "Thank you, Mr. Hayes, for picking me up. Sorry to waste your time."

Max's chest tightened, an invisible fist squeezing around his heart. When he'd decided to come get her himself, he'd imagined something different—a real reunion, the way it used to be.

Stella had always been the vibrant one. No matter how long he'd been away, she'd be the first to launch herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, grinning as she demanded, "Max, tell me everything! Was it cold out there?"

When he'd broken his arm in a basketball game, she'd stuck by him for three months, relentless in her care. Even when he snapped at her, she'd just laugh, undeterred.

And she'd taught herself to cook his favorites, shrugging off his indifference every time with that same unwavering smile. "You're my brother. Who else should I spoil?"

Guilt twisted inside him. He'd been the one to choose Anna that day. He'd handed Stella over to hell.

For two years, he'd buried himself in work, clawing his way to the top of the company. Yet today, he'd cleared his schedule and driven here himself, clinging to some foolish hope.

But all he got was a hollow formality, like he was nothing but a villain. The sting of betrayal and hope sharpened into anger.

"Get in the car," he ordered. "Our parents and Anna are really happy about your return. They're throwing a party at home. Don't keep them and the guests waiting." Then he opened the car door and slid inside.

The bitter winter wind cut deep, and she shivered, having forgone a down jacket. Words like "parents" felt foreign on her tongue—even though it had only been three years since she'd last said them, it might as well have been a lifetime.

Ever since she was a kid, she was always expected to take a backseat to Anna, just because she was the healthier one.

Over time, she even started to believe that she'd somehow taken Anna's share of nutrients in the womb, leaving her sister frail and sickly. So, she tried to make up for it by always putting Anna first.

But her patience hadn't earned her parents' approval—if anything, it had only made them harsher.

The day she was kidnapped, the ransom had been paid. But when the kidnappers changed their terms—claiming 1.5 million could only save one child—no one had to say it out loud. The choice was clear. They were taking Anna.

When Stella still hadn't gotten in, Max rolled down the window. His anger had cooled, but his voice was edged with impatience. "What, are you waiting for me to come down and open the door for you like some kind of chauffeur?"

Stella forced herself forward, but the sharp pain in her feet made her wince. This was the first time she'd walked unassisted since the rescue—before, someone had always been there to support her.

To Max, though, it just looked like an act. With a scoff, he shoved the door open, stepped out, and yanked her forward. The rough motion slammed her against the car, sending a jolt of pain through her body—but at least it gave her something to lean on.

"Stella," he said, his voice low and bitter, "I know the whole family owes you. But do you have to look so damn miserable the second you see me?

"Back then, we couldn't save both of you at once. Who knew the bastard would change the terms last minute? Mom and Dad were just playing along to buy time—save Anna first, and then figure out how to get you back.

"If we hadn't kept pushing all these years, you wouldn't even be standing here right now."

Three years had passed. Stella had thought she was numb by now, that nothing could cut deeper than what she'd already endured. But Max's words—so callous, so ungrateful—pierced through her like a knife.

Just as Stella opened her mouth to respond, a familiar voice cut through the air—Lionel Quinn. "Stella, I've come to pick you up."

2.Chapter 2 Don't Expect Anyone To Come After You Stella froze. She hadn't seen him yet, but that voice had haunted her dreams for years. In the past, whenever her parents and Max had treated her unfairly, it had been Lionel who comforted her, giving her the strength to keep going.

He'd once promised her everything—that he'd go to military school, become a soldier, and marry her so he could protect her properly.

But on the day she was kidnapped, his last words to her had been harsh. He'd said, "Ending up like this is all your own fault."

In the dark days that followed, she'd turned those words over in her mind until they carved themselves into her bones. He'd blamed her. He truly believed she'd brought this on herself.

The kidnapping had happened right after Stella was accepted into Quentiham University—the top college, a reward for her hard work, while Anna, perpetually sickly, had only managed to get into a community college.

Their parents had demanded that Stella give up her spot for Anna. When she refused, her father Andrew had struck her.

That was the night she ran away. And only Anna had gone after her. And then, both of them vanished. It wasn't until Anna didn't return that the family realized they had been taken.

Lionel, the one person Stella'd always trusted, had turned on her for the first time, accusing her of being too stubborn, of causing the kidnapping.

His words had shattered her completely—especially when he added, "Stella, I thought you were innocent. When your parents and brother didn't trust you, I still did. But look at this. You really let me down."

'He's even suspected I've orchestrated the kidnapping. So why's he here now?' Stella wondered, confused.

But she didn't care to find out. Summoning what little strength she had left, she wrenched the car door open, hauled herself inside, and slammed it shut. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was eerily calm, but beneath it simmered a lifetime of pain. "Let's go."

Lionel froze. He'd noticed the changes in her immediately. Before coming, he'd read about what happened to abducted girls—how they returned as hollow shells of themselves. The articles had hurt to read, but seeing her like this was even worse.

He'd prepared himself for this moment a thousand times. Yet nothing could have braced him for the reality of the girl he'd watched grow up—emaciated, trembling, dressed in nothing but threadbare clothes in the dead of winter.

His eyes locked with Max's through the windshield. Max didn't drive off immediately. Instead, he studied Stella's blank expression, and then flicked a glance at Lionel in the rearview mirror. When neither of them spoke, Max rolled up the window and pulled away.

Lionel stood there, watching the taillights disappear into the night. Just then, hurried footsteps approached—a police officer came rushing out. "Oh, just missed them," she muttered in frustration.

Turning, Lionel saw her holding a brand new down jacket.

Recognition flashed across her face—he was that doctor who'd been all over the news lately. "You're Dr. Quinn, aren't you?"

"That's right," Lionel replied with polite detachment.

The officer clearly knew about his connection to Max, so she figured Lionel was here for Stella. She said, "You came for Stella too, didn't you? Earlier, she saw another rescued girl shivering without proper clothes and gave away her own jacket.

"We were about to provide supplies, but Stella acted first. Can you believe it? After years in that cave—often without even a proper blanket to keep warm—she still thought of others before herself.

"When we tried to stop her, she just said she'd adapted to the cold and others needed it more. After everything she's been through, she's still this kind."

Her eyes grew shiny with unshed tears. Suddenly remembering her purpose, she thrust the jacket toward Lionel. "I know the Hayes family will provide for her now. But there was something in her eyes when she looked at this. Would you make sure she gets it back?"

Lionel accepted the jacket as if it were made of lead. "I'll see that she gets it," he managed to say.

With a grateful nod, the officer turned back to her team.

****

Exhaustion weighed on Stella like stone. Two years in Dusty Pines had left her body broken—cramped in a cave too small to stand in, chains cutting into her limbs for so long that her hair had turned grey.

The kind police officer had arranged for a barber to shave Stella's head and gave her a wig to wear. Even standing outside earlier had been a struggle; she'd been desperate for a chance to sit. Now, slumped in Max's car, she finally let herself rest.

Max hadn't noticed any of it. Or maybe he just didn't care to. Even though she'd grown taller, he still saw her as the same greedy girl from his memories—the one who supposedly stole food from Anna's plate.

Back then, when their parents weren't home, he'd take her portions and give them to Anna. If Anna couldn't finish them, he'd toss the leftovers to the neighbor Lionel's dog. And Lionel, unlike Max, had noticed. He'd sneak Stella food when no one was looking.

As a child, Stella'd brushed it off—unhappiness never lasted long back then. But over the years, the resentment had settled deep.

The dim car interior was a relief. Her eyes, still adjusting to light after so long in darkness, could finally focus. The SUV wasn't just Max's—pink trinkets and girly charms dangled from the passenger seat, unmistakably Anna's.

A scented bag hung behind the driver's seat, filling the air with something sweet. Probably another of Anna's favorites. Jaloria might have changed in three years, but some things never did.

Her gaze drifted to Max finally. She hadn't seen him in three years had shed his youthful edges. The college graduate she remembered was gone, replaced by a man in a tailored suit, every inch the successful businessman.

He caught her staring in the rearview mirror. "You can act like this with me," he said, voice sharp, "but don't pull that face when you see Mom and Dad.

"After we got Anna back, we never stopped looking for you. The kidnapper was just too damn slippery. These three years were hell for you—we'll make it up to you. But don't think it wasn't hell for them too. Mom's aged ten years from guilt.

"So when we get home, drop the attitude. No more running away and no more making things harder for Anna. You know how dangerous the world could be. If you take off again, don't expect anyone to come after you."

3.Chapter 3 Reunion Silence stretched. Stella kept her eyes fixed on the passing scenery, her face unreadable.

Max's grip tightened on the wheel. "After everything you've been through, you still haven't learned?" His voice turned icy. "Are you even listening to me?"

Stella still refused to look at him, her words slow and deliberate. "When the kidnapper took me away, I overheard Dad saying they had 2.5 million set aside—just in case the ransom demand was high.

"But they didn't want to pay that much. The company was struggling, so they could only offer 1.5 million. But the kidnapper told me if they were willing to pay the full amount, he'd let both Anna and me go."

The guilt in Max's eyes vanished in an instant. "So you're blaming Mom and Dad for not saving you because of the company? Did you ever stop to think none of this would've happened if you hadn't run away?"

Stella finally turned to face him. "Tell me, Mr. Hayes—do you remember why I ran away in the first place?"

Max had always assumed she couldn't open her eyes—every time he'd seen her before, they'd been shut. But now, her unsettling gaze locked onto him, sending a chill down his spine.

He stumbled, "Y-You know exactly what you did. Anna's been fragile since birth, and you did it. You owe her. With your SAT scores? A gap year with proper tutoring could still get you into Quentiham.

"But no, you had to cause trouble instead. Mom and Dad even promised to take you to that amusement park you always wanted to visit if you just behaved."

When Stella was little, she'd begged to go to the amusement park. But her parents always refused—Anna was too sick, they said. It wouldn't be fair to Anna if Stella went without her. Over time, the longing faded into resignation.

When she was first lured to Dusty Pines, part of her had still believed that, despite everything, her parents wouldn't abandon her completely. She was their daughter too. Sooner or later, they'd come for her.

****

As the car rolled into the Hayes residence, Stella felt no sense of familiarity. This wasn't the way home she remembered. From the moment they entered the gates, everything felt foreign and even unsettling.

The car came to a stop. Max turned toward her, reaching for the takeout bag hanging on the seatback. Just as he was about to step out, he paused and shot her a suspicious glance. "You didn't take anything from the bag, did you?"

Stella held her breath.

He seemed to catch the accusatory tone in his own voice and softened. "I'm not saying you can't eat. But the police said you barely had anything in that small town. Overdoing it now wouldn't be good for you. I'm just looking out for you."

"I didn't eat anything," she said flatly.

Max blinked in surprise. In the past, whenever he'd bring home treats—meant for Anna, not her—Stella would help herself anyway. He'd always leave some for his sister, but since the snacks weren't intended for Stella, he'd scold her for being greedy.

Now, he checked the bag. No signs of tampering. Weird. But he just shrugged. "Go get ready. Don't take too long." With that, he strode off toward the hall, his mood noticeably lighter.

Stella turned toward the noise. Even with her blurred vision, the buzz of voices told her the place was packed. Of course, after her kidnapping ordeal, the Hayes family had to make a show of her return.

This was good for their image and the company. Never mind how Stella felt about being paraded around like this, knowing people would always see her as damaged goods.

She didn't want to go in. But before she could protest, a servant rushed over and pulled her inside. The lights were so bright and harsh that she had to look away.

The servant's disgust was barely concealed, though she forced a polite tone. "Ms. Stella Hayes," she said, handing her a change of clothes, "while you were gone, Mr. Max Hayes took over the company. With the Quinn family's help, things turned around quickly.

"This house was bought just five months ago—the old one hasn't been sold. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes said if you ever returned, you'd still know your way home. But we've prepared a room for you here. I'll take you there."

Stella's eyes adjusted to the brightness, revealing a mansion far grander than the previous one. Lavish decor filled the space, but what caught her attention was the framed diploma displayed prominently in the center—a Quentiham University graduation certificate.

Something about it pulled her in. While the servant was distracted, Stella lifted the frame. Anna's beaming face stared back at her, the name beneath it unmistakable. The date was this year.

That didn't make sense. Quentiham was a four-year program—unless someone graduated early, which required top marks. But Anna had failed the entrance exam back then.

The servant returned and gasped. She snatched the diploma from Stella's hands, reverently placing it back. "Mr. and Mrs. Hayes' orders—no one touches this without permission."

Stella frowned in confusion but said nothing.

"Let's go upstairs," the servant said.

The staircase was a challenge. Stella gripped the railing, refusing to let her slow pace make her a spectacle. She'd have to adapt eventually. The servant's impatient glare burned into her back.

As they passed a massive room—easily 800 square feet—Stella tried to peek inside, but the servant stepped in her way, offering no explanation.

At the very end of the hall, the servant opened a door to a modest 500-square-foot room, its decor a stark contrast to the luxury downstairs. "Your clothes are inside. Change quickly. The party's about to start."

Stella nodded. "Okay."

When she stepped out later, the servant was gone. Gripping the railing, Stella made her way toward the party hall. The place was packed—seemingly every elite in Jaloria had shown up.

Three years had changed everything. The Hayes family had climbed from modest wealth to the upper echelons of high society. Stella watched as people who once looked down on them now fawned over her family with practiced smiles.

Her father, Andrew, stood taller than she remembered—confident, vibrant, practically glowing with pride. Her mother, Fiona, had aged like fine wine, looking decades younger than the noblewomen surrounding her.

And Anna was radiant, the center of attention, practically Jaloria's princess with Lionel and Max flanking her like devoted knights.

The sight twisted something inside Stella. She wasn't needed here. She never had been.

She hesitated at the entrance, ready to turn back. And then she saw the banners. Anna and Lionel were smiling in their wedding attire. Realization hit her. This wasn't a homecoming for her. It was their engagement party.

4.Chapter 4 Her Family Stella took a step back, heart pounding. She needed to leave now. Then a voice cut through the chatter. "Is that... Stella?"

The room went quiet. Every head turned. Whispers erupted like wildfire.

"It's really her. God, look at her—three years did that to her?"

"I heard she snuck out that night and got Anna kidnapped too. Serves her right."

"Shh! The Hayes family isn't some small-time family anymore."

"But it's true. Rumor is the kidnappers sold her off to some small poor town. You know what happens to girls like her there. Honestly, she might have already had a child with some poor guy."

"Thank God the Hayes family never gave up. Persistence pays off, I suppose."

"Stella!" Fiona rushed forward, her legs nearly giving way beneath her. Andrew caught his wife just in time as she reached out, her face twisted in anguish.

Stella took a deliberate step back and gave a stiff bow. "Mother."

Fiona's hands froze midair before finally settling lightly on Stella's forearm. Then her breath hitched.

"You're nothing but bones now," Fiona wept. "You used to be healthier than Anna, but now, look at you. You must have suffered a lot."

Her fingers trembled over the lattice of scars, old and new, some still raw. Hot tears splashed onto the wounds, but Stella didn't flinch. This wasn't the girl who'd once wailed over skinned knees.

Fiona reached out instinctively, and then jerked her hand back. Her throat tightened. "Doesn't that hurt?" she whispered.

After so many times, the body learned. Stella shrugged. "No."

Fiona sobbed harder, convinced Stella was being brave for her sake.

"Stella." Anna's voice cut through, thick with tears. She looked genuinely distraught, as if the scars were her own. "I've been so weak. This is all my fault. If they'd taken me instead, you wouldn't have suffered like this."

Max suddenly grabbed Stella's arm, his grip punishing as he examined the damage. "Why the hell didn't you tell me at the police station?" he demanded. "We could've gotten names. Made them pay."

Stella wrenched free, exhaustion weighing every word. "You never asked. You didn't even come inside to get me. How could you know?"

Stella's sharp words humiliated Max in front of all their guests. "Why are you being so cruel? You know I'm covered in scars, yet you made me come out dressed like this. I get it—you resent me. But did you really have to embarrass us in front of everyone?"

"When we got home, you just left me there and told me to change. I spent ages digging through my closet, and this dress has the longest sleeves I could find," Stella said, her tone flat.

Fiona had picked out all the clothes, so Max shot her a look.

Fiona quickly averted her eyes. "Stella always used to love dresses like this. Since she's been gone so long, I bought a few for her. I heard she was doing fine in that little town, so I didn't think much of it—this is all my fault."

Then she reached for Stella's arms again. "Don't worry, Stella. Max will find the best doctors for your scars. Everything will go back to normal."

Stella pushed her away coldly. "I was doing fine? Who told you that?"

Max hated how Stella treated Fiona. He pulled Fiona back, keeping her at a distance in case Stella lashed out.

He sneered, "Who told us? The police. The news. They all said they'd never seen a woman like you—sold off but still managing to live so well. Did you expect us to feel sorry for you?"

Stella shot back, "Just surviving means living well now? If I hadn't convinced them I was more useful advising them than being raped, do you think they would've left me alone?"

Modern society didn't obsess over a woman's "purity" anymore, but the Hayes family was old-money respectable. Their daughter being sold off for three years—no one would believe she came back untouched. If word got out, she'd never marry well. The gossip alone would ruin her.

"Stop," Fiona cried out like Stella had struck a nerve. "I know you're hurting, but you're home now. No one needs to talk about the past ever again."

"I wasn't raped." Stella's voice cut through the room. "Since everyone's here, you might as well hear the truth. When those men tried to assault me, I bargained and taught them how to make real money. They listened. Life in that town got better because of me.

"They were so afraid I'd run away and leave them helpless that they locked me in a cave. Some men still tried at night, but I fought them off and warned the chief—if they touched me, I'd stop helping.

"When times got hard again, they needed me too much to risk it. But some couldn't stand being refused, so they took it out on me with whips. That's the 'good life' you think I had."

Stories like this belonged in headlines, not their living room. The guests stood frozen, pity flashing across their faces—but none of them really believed she'd escaped untouched. No woman taken to those remote places ever came back unharmed.

"Those bastards," Andrew suddenly roared. "Max, as soon as this damn party's over, get that town's location from the police. We're going there."

Someone frowned in confusion. "Wait, Mr. Hayes—that doesn't add up. Didn't you say you found Stella yourself and brought her home?"

Andrew froze, caught off guard. Fiona jumped in before the silence could stretch. "Andrew's just furious. When we found Stella, those people in the town acted so kind. They claimed they'd rescued her, taken care of her, and even helped track us down. We had no idea they were lying."

"Then you already know the address," another guest pointed out sharply.

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The snow falls soft and endless around me, blanketing the world in white like it can erase everything. I’m kneeling in it, my legs giving out the moment Max lets go. Three years gone, and this is how I come home—crumpled at my brother’s feet, shivering in clothes too thin for winter.

He looks down at me, jaw tight. "Three years gone, and you're still pulling the same act."

I try to stand. My muscles scream. The pain is real, but to him, it’s just another performance. When I finally get up, I bow my head slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Hayes, for picking me up. Sorry to waste your time."

His face twists—guilt, anger, something raw. He opens the car door. "Get in. Our parents and Anna are really happy about your return. Don’t keep them waiting."

I don’t move. The wind bites through my skin. Then, cutting through the cold, a voice I haven’t heard in years: "Stella, I've come to pick you up."

Lionel.

My breath catches. He was the one person I thought believed in me. The one who told me I deserved better. The one who last said, "Ending up like this is all your own fault."

Now he’s here.

Do I get in the car with Max, walk into whatever lie awaits me inside that mansion… or turn and face the man who broke me first?