The rain fell like shards of glass the night she was born. Inside the grand palace of House Valemont, torches flickered along golden walls as servants rushed about, whispering prayers for the new heir. When the cries of the newborn echoed through the chamber, King Aldric Valemont strode through the great doors, his royal cloak dragging across the marble floor. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Is it done?" he demanded, voice echoing through the hall.

The midwife, trembling, bowed low and held out the tiny bundle. "Yes, Your Majesty... your child is born."

Aldric stepped forward, hope shining in his face. But the moment his gaze landed on the small, fragile face wrapped in white silk, the warmth drained from him. "...A girl?" His tone turned sharp, venomous. "You told me it was a boy."

The hall went silent. Not a soul dared to breathe.

"She-she is healthy, my lord—" the midwife stammered.

"Unlucky," he cut her off coldly. "A curse upon my house." He turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving the child crying in the dim light, her tiny hands reaching for someone who would never hold her.

From that day, the castle knew: the king had no daughter.

Years passed, and the girl grew quietly beneath the shadow of her father's hatred. Her four brothers were the kingdom's pride — strong, skilled, admired by all. Prince Aric Valemont the eldest, was stern and silent, carrying the burden of their father's expectations. Prince Daren Valemont, charming and reckless, lived for adventure and admiration. Prince Lucien Valemont, cunning and clever, was their father's favored strategist. And Prince Rowan — the youngest of the four - kind, gentle, and defiant - was the only one who dared to look her way. He was her protector, her only warmth in the cold marble halls.

One day, when the sun bled red over the horizon, the sound of shattering glass broke through the corridors. A priceless vase — a gift from the Emperor himself — lay in shards across the floor. Rowan froze, eyes wide, panic crawling over his face. "Father will kill me..." he whispered. And before he could stop himself, fear made him cruel. "She—she did it! It was her!"

The words slipped like poison from his lips, and though he regretted them instantly, it was too late. The king's footsteps thundered through the hall. "What happened here?"

"Father—she—she broke it!" Rowan's voice trembled.

Aldric's eyes darkened like the storm outside. "Again?" He seized the girl by her wrist, his grip iron. "I warned you what would happen if you brought misfortune into my halls!" he roared.

Then came the sound of it — a slap that cracked through the silence. Her small arm twisted under his grip, his ring cutting into her skin as he struck again and again, each blow heavy with disgust. "She will learn her place," he muttered through clenched teeth, fury trembling in his voice. "The gods punish me with her existence."

Blood stained the edge of his sleeve. "Father—please—" Aric began, but one glare from Aldric silenced him. Rowan fell to his knees, tears streaking down his cheeks, guilt consuming him as he watched his father raise his hand again.