I Was the Adopted Daughter My Whole Family Hated, But After My Death, They Clung to My Grave, Crying in Regret
I was once the golden girl, born into wealth and privilege.
But overnight, my world crumbled.
One accident turned me into a pariah, the family disgrace.
The man I loved for eight years, my shining beacon, came to hate me with every fiber of his being.
He said I was the cause of it all–the reason for every tragedy.
Before I died, he stood over me and asked, “Do you still love me?”
I shook my head.
“Never again.”
1
Three years later, I came back.
I had waited three long years for this moment.
In the passenger seat of the car, my brother, Sean Miller, let out a cold snort, breaking the heavy silence.
“Drop the pitiful act. That look on your face is disgusting.”
He turned, glaring at me with contempt.
“You stole Cassidy’s life for years. What you owe her can’t be repaid this easily.”
In the past, I would have fought back. I would’ve given him a piece of my mind.
But now, I only looked at my reflection in the car window–a pale, gaunt face stared back at me, with hollow cheeks and dull, lifeless eyes.
There was no trace of the proud, glamorous princess I once was.
Three years of living under someone else’s roof had taught me how to swallow my pride.
I nodded quietly. “Okay.”
Sometimes, lowering your head is the only way to survive.
I was no longer the spoiled, entitled girl of the Miller family.
As long as I could leave that hellhole behind, I would do whatever they wanted.
The car pulled into the parking lot of an exclusive country club.
“Come with me,” Sean ordered.
He didn’t give me room to refuse.
As I got out of the car, I caught the look of disgust in his eyes–sharp, clear, and unmistakable.
Inside the private suite, my heart froze for a moment.
Our eyes met.
There he was–Lucas Hart.
The man I had loved for eight years.
For eight long years, I had trailed behind him, desperate for his attention.
9:48 AM
