PROLOGUE

~HOW IT ALL BEGAN

The murmurs reverberated throughout the courtroom, lawyers exchanging hushed words as they jockeyed to assert their claims. It felt as if everything was passing by in a blur, each moment a mere breeze slipping away. Time seemed to stretch interminably as I sat in the defendant's chair, my wriest bound by cold, unforgiving handcuffs. My lawyer, a silent sentinel, labored tirelessly to defend me, yet it felt like a waking nightmare relentless terror that left me trembling, despite my eyes being wide open.

Some might think the greatest way to get your heart broken is through a man; I beg to differ. Betrayal from the family who are supposed to love and nurture you hurts more, I can assure you. Every minute felt like my heart was being ripped into several irreplaceable pieces. How did we get here? I couldn't come to terms with the fact that they had accused me of embezzling company funds because Father had chosen to leave the company to me and not them, even though I was born out of his affair and not legitimate, as they liked to call me.

Memories rushed back as I stood at the edge of Father's bed, my heart heavy with the weight of impending loss. Edward Whitmore, my father, lay frail and pallid; his breath came out shallow and labored. Despite his many flaws, I had never doubted his love for me. I was glad for the dimly lit room that hid my red-rimmed eyes, so he couldn't see the toll his loss was taking on me. I didn't need that burden on his heart.

As usual, my step-siblings—James, Violet, Hamster, and Judy—were absent, as they had been most of Father's final days. They claimed they had important business to attend to, crucial meetings that couldn't be postponed, but I knew better. Last night, a news blog caught Hamster leaving a club surrounded by supermodels. Sometimes I wished they had shown more interest in the family's affairs instead of running after their selfish interests.

As I held onto Father's hand, my mind drifted back to our childhood days, to the unity that had long since faded and the laughter that had once filled these halls. Back then, we did not need to fight each other. When Father brought me back home when I was three, it had taken a while to adjust, but eventually, we had grown accustomed to the idea of me being part of the family. Suddenly, greed crept in, splitting the haven we had once shared with jealousy, anger, and greed.

Father's grip tightened slightly, pulling me back to the present. His eyes, though clouded with pain, held a spark of determination.

"Seraphina," he whispered, his voice barely audible. I leaned closer over his frail form, straining to catch his words. "You've been a blessing to me," he tried to smile and coughed. It broke my heart to see my once energetic father lying so frail.

When the coughing subsided and he drank from the cup I lifted to his mouth, he continued. "The will, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything, Father," I replied, my voice choked with emotion.

"You and I are so much alike," he smiled, looking at me with tender eyes. "Take care of the family business, protect our legacy." Each word was a struggle but uttered with conviction. "I've made changes to the will to ensure the business doesn't fall into ruins at the hands of your siblings. You are the only one I can trust with the company I put my life's work into."

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I promise, Father."

A few weeks later, Father died, leaving me engulfed in a sea of grief. The funeral was a grand affair, and of course, my siblings made themselves available, playing the part of the dutiful, grieving children. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It wasn't until the reading of the will that my suspicions were confirmed.

We had gathered in the mansion's study, a room lined with leather-bound books and portraits of stern-faced ancestors. The family lawyer and Father's biggest confidant, Mr. Hastings, read the will aloud to the entire family present. As usual, my stepmother hadn't shown up; she hadn't shown up when Father fell ill, and she hadn't shown up for his funeral, which wasn't a surprise considering they had parted on bad terms.

As the reading continued, the atmosphere in the room shifted when it was announced that Father had left the Whitmore enterprise and family home in my name. When Mr. Hastings finished, there was a tense silence.

My elder brother, James Whitmore, was the first to speak up. "This is absurd," he said, his voice laced with anger. "Father would never have given Phina control of the company when I was the first son. The company is mine. There must be a mistake."

My eldest sister, Violet Whitmore, nodded in agreement, her always annoyed expression deepening as her eyes narrowed dangerously. "We need to contest this. It's obvious she manipulated Father in his final days, and she isn't even his legitimate child."

Hamster Whitmore looked blank as he said, "I don't think the old man is one to ever be manipulated."

"Shut up," my second sister, Judy Whitmore, snapped at Hamster, then glaring at me, she pointed her finger in my direction. "You took advantage of his weakened state. This isn't over, Phina."

My siblings stormed out of the room, leaving me stunned and reeling. I sank into a chair, my mind racing. I knew there would be disagreements, but I hadn't mentally prepared to be confronted with this. In my mind, I had expected my siblings to drag me through a series of court cases. No part of me had imagined they would try to scheme against me and have me thrown into jail for a crime I didn't commit.

I could barely comprehend what was happening until I was facing trial. Now I was standing to face a sentence. The person who had shocked me the most was my assistant, Aubrey Monty; she had testified against me. I watched her from the stands as she tried to avoid my eyes while she spoke to my brother James Whitmore.

A nudge from my left brought me back to the present as I turned to stare at my lawyer, who signaled me to stand before the judge. I realized I had spaced out as murmurs drifted through the air around me while I sat in confusion.

"Stand," my lawyer murmured.

Feeling the weight of every eye in the room upon me, I hurried to my feet, trying not to feel foolish.

The judge, a stern-looking woman with silver hair and glasses perched on the edge of her nose, cleared her throat as the room fell quiet. She looked quite intimidating with her hair tied up in a severe-looking bun. There was a time when I used to wonder if looking fierce and annoyed was one of the things they were taught to do.

"After careful consideration of the evidence presented during this trial, the testimonies given, and the arguments made by both the prosecution and the defense, this court finds you, Seraphina Whitmore, guilty of embezzlement."

Murmurs swept through the courtroom, quickly silenced by a sharp rap of the judge's gavel.

"Order in the court," she said firmly, pushing her glasses up her nose before turning her attention back to me. "Ms. Whitmore, embezzlement is a serious offense. It involves a significant breach of trust, particularly given your position as CFO within Whitmore Enterprises. The court recognizes the impact your actions have had on the company and its stakeholders. 

Looking ahead, I forced myself to maintain my composure as a lump arose in my throat.

"However," the judge continued, "the court has also taken into account your previously clean record, your contributions to various charitable causes, and the testimonies of character witnesses who spoke on your behalf."

She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle over the room.

"Therefore, this court judges that you, Seraphina Whitmore, be sentenced to eighteen months in state prison. Additionally, you are ordered to pay restitution to Whitmore Enterprises for one million dollars."

The gavel came down again, final and resounding.

"This court is adjourned."

Two bailiffs approached, their faces impassive as they took each of my arms. Looking back at the gallery, I took in my siblings seated together; the smug expression on their faces was one I would never forget. The only person who had the decency to look guilty was Hamster; the look of guilt on his face made me despise him a little less. They made no move to approach me, for which I was grateful. I had no idea what I would have done if any of them had come closer; I might have been facing a murder trial instead. I looked away as Judy mouthed something that seemed like "That's what you deserve" while blowing me a kiss.

*****$$$$$$$$$$$*****

The clank of the cell door closing behind me echoed, reminding me of my new reality. The days in prison were long and filled with routines that did nothing to distract me from the nasty thoughts brewing in my mind. I filled my days with thoughts of how I would get back at everyone responsible for my current predicament and keep my promise to Father. After all, the company was still in my name.

One afternoon, several months into my sentence, a guard approached my cell with a letter. I was curious to find out who could send a letter, as no one had bothered to send anything to me since I had been here.

*Letter from the family:*

 *Our dearest sister Seraphina,*

 *This situation has brought great shame upon our family and the company Father worked hard to build. To protect what remains of our reputation and assets, we ask that you consider formally transferring control of Whitmore Enterprises to us. This is the only way to ensure the company's survival and our family's honor.*

*We expect your compliance.*

*James Whitmore, on behalf of the family.*

A surge of anger coursed through me as I scoffed, tossing the now-crumpled letter against the wall. I knew James was nasty, but I didn't think he was this ruthless. After framing me, he wanted to take what belonged to me.

*****$$$$$$$$$$$$$$*****

Emerging from the prison gates, feeling sunlight on my face for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I couldn't help the smile that graced my face. My refusal had been received quite well, as I hadn't been sent another letter urging me to hand over the company. Now all I had to do was get back what was mine.

A sleek black car was parked nearby, and an unfamiliar man in a suit stood by the passenger door, holding a sign with my name on it.

"Ms. Whitmore, your brother sent me to pick you up," he said, opening the door.

I was taken aback by the gesture of kindness. It wasn't like my brother to send a car to pick me up. Maybe, once upon a time, he would have done that, but I doubted he would now. Or maybe I was just overthinking the whole situation, and he genuinely felt sorry for what he had done and was trying to apologize in his way. Besides, the thought of a safe ride home was too tempting to ignore.

"Thank you," I said, slipping into the back seat. The driver handed me a chilled water bottle, which I gratefully accepted.

"You must have been thirsty," he remarked, starting the car.

The car ride was relaxing, and before long, my eyelids grew heavy. I struggled to stay awake as my mind slowly took in the bottle of water I had just emptied. Darkness overtook me.

When my eyes jutted open in terror, the first thing I noticed was the restriction in movement. I looked down to find my hands bound. Panic surged as I tugged on the rope, looking around. We were standing at the edge of a cliff. The driver stood in front of me, a cold smile on his hard face. How had I missed the coldness in his eyes?

"Where am I?" I demanded, trying to tame my racing heart.

"The end of the road, Ms. Whitmore," he replied, pulling out a gun. "Your family sends their farewell."

The words were like a physical blow, a knife cutting through already injured flesh. "No, they wouldn't…" I heard myself whisper through the blood rushing in my head. But even as I said this, the truth was clear in his eyes. They meant to end me forever.

"They were quite insistent," he said, raising the gun. "Sign it," he directed, nodding towards the document lying at my feet.

I stared at the piece of paper in anger. Was I really about to die for a signature on a document?

I hesitated as my eyes scanned the contents rapidly. If I signed, I would be denouncing my inheritance, the company, and the Whitmore name. They wanted to cut ties with me and leave me dry and empty.

Sniffing back tears of anger and betrayal, I raised my head to the man after weighing my options. "Will you let me go if I sign?"

"Of course," he exclaimed triumphantly.

Even though I knew what I was doing, even though I knew I was disappointing Dad, even though I knew I was letting them win, I signed the papers. Once I got out of here, I would be able to fight back, at least for the company.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," the man smiled smugly as he clutched the document. "Goodbye, Seraphina. The world will miss such a beauty."

"No, please," I raised my bound hands, trying to shield my face. "But you said you would let me go. I'll pay double of what—"

The shot rang out, sharp and deafening. Pain exploded in my chest, and my vision blurred as I felt my body fly downwards towards the cliff, making contact with a hard surface as darkness took over.