Chapter 3
In the past, Daisy would’ve stormed into Heather’s room, ready to confront her, rage blazing in her chest. But now? She just added Heather’s name to her mental blacklist, calm, emotionless, done.
It wasn’t until after Daisy woke from her coma that the truth began to unravel.
In her absence, grief had swallowed her parents whole. Desperate for something, anything, to fill the void, Desmond had turned to Heather, a girl who bore an eerie resemblance to Daisy.
With sweet smiles and soft words, Heather had seamlessly slipped into their lives, her presence like a balm on their pain. At first, Daisy had been grateful. She even felt a strange warmth thinking she’d gained a little sister. When she found out her parents had taken Heather in as their foster daughter, Daisy thought it was beautiful, a new beginning born from tragedy.
But the fairytale didn’t last.
Heather’s charm was never innocent. Slowly, she began to replace Daisy in every corner of the house, every crevice of their hearts.
When Heather casually admired Daisy’s room, her parents insisted she give it up, just like that.
If Heather glanced at a necklace that once belonged to Daisy, it was hers by the end of the day.
Even the dowry Daisy’s grandmother had left her, a precious token of legacy and love, was quietly claimed by Heather without so much as a conversation.
But what cut the deepest… was Desmond.
The way he used to look at Daisy, with warmth and devotion, was now reserved for Heather, his eyes softened with a fondness that once belonged to her.
On her birthday, he left Daisy alone to celebrate with Heather instead.
On a freezing mountaintop, in the dead of night, he abandoned her, again, for Heather.
And the wedding? The one he promised would be unforgettable? It disappeared, just like every promise before it, swallowed whole by Heather’s shadow.
Despite her innocent front, Heather was a master manipulator.
Since Daisy woke up, Heather had worked tirelessly, subtly turning her parents and Desmond against her. And Daisy, fighting alone, blindsided and outmatched, never stood a chance.
In just two years, her parents grew cold. Desmond grew cruel.
She had fought. Argued. Broken down. But nothing changed.
Eventually, she stopped trying. Because Heather didn’t win by force.
She won because the people Daisy once loved… stopped loving her back.
Love didn’t disappear; it simply changed forms. Daisy never used to believe that. Now, she knew it better than anyone.
Even if she exposed Heather’s cruel, taunting messages, her parents wouldn’t believe her. Desmond would accuse her of fabricating lies just to ruin Heather’s reputation.
And in the end, Daisy would be left holding the wreckage.
She sighed and set her phone down, her eyes drifting across the empty garden. The house that once felt like home had long since gone cold. Whether Heather forced her out or not, Daisy knew, she’d be leaving. And when she did, it would be on her own terms.
Then, out of nowhere, something dark and bloody flew across her vision and hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Daisy froze.
It was Heather’s beloved Ragdoll cat, Althea, lifeless, its soft fur stained with blood.
Her hand flew to her mouth, horror coursing through her.
Desmond happened to pass by at that moment, stopping dead in his tracks.
“What the hell, what’s going on?”
“Desmond, it, ” Daisy started to explain, but a high-pitched scream pierced the air.
Heather came running, collapsing beside the bloodied cat, scooping it into her arms, her face twisted in grief.
“Sister… why would you hurt Althea?”
Daisy blinked in shock. “What are you talking about?!”
“I know you’re upset about the wedding,” Heather sobbed, her voice cracking just right, “but if you’re angry, take it out on me, not on her!”
Tears streamed down Heather’s cheeks, and Daisy’s heart sank.
It all clicked.
This was a setup. Another twisted performance. But this time… she’d gone too far.
Althea wasn’t just a pet, she had been their mother’s. A final memory, now turned into a bloodstained prop.
Daisy’s stomach turned.
She could already hear it, the accusations, the judgment, the heartbreak.
“It wasn’t me,” Daisy said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Someone threw her over the wall just now. I saw it.”
“But the wounds…” Heather choked out between sobs. “The cuts, they’re so precise. Only someone with medical training could’ve done it.”
Then, her voice dropped, sweet as venom.
“And you’re the only one in this family who studied medicine. So if not you… then who?”
