The Whitmores and Gilberts were bound by history and business. Paul and I were inevitable—childhood sweethearts. He was the stoic anchor to my spirited, pampered storm. Opposites, yet we fit perfectly.
When we were young, our confessions were shy and tentative. But after college entrance exams, I waged a campaign against our elders, begging for an engagement.
Mom hesitated. She feared a business alliance might crush me. But I held her hand, grinning like a fool.
"Mom, we love each other. Paul will cherish me forever."
I wore them down. Got my ring. Thought I had the world.
Two months later, that world shattered. Mom died in a car crash.
Two weeks after the funeral, Dad brought a girl home. Anna Fox—only two weeks younger than me. From the moment she crossed our threshold, my life disintegrated.
Anna took my bedroom. Seduced my dog with treats until he ignored me. Even wore the jewelry Mom had left for me.
I fought back, screaming at the injustice. But Dad didn't defend me. He scolded me. The doting father who'd treated me like a princess vanished, replaced by a cold stranger.
Then I saw the paternity test.