Chapter 5: Bloodlines and Reckonings

The betrayal stung more than anything else. I wanted to scream, to break something, to make him feel even a fraction of my pain.

He can keep dreaming.

I straightened my shoulders, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. I would not let them see me broken.

I used the token bestowed by the First Lady to leave the house and enter the Governor’s Mansion.

The token was heavy in my pocket, a symbol of borrowed power. I walked through the gates, my head held high, determined not to let anyone see my fear.

The First Lady was dining with the younger son. When she saw me, she immediately waved. “Evelyn, have you eaten? If not, come eat with me.”

Her voice was warm, practiced—a perfect hostess. The dining room smelled of roast chicken and fresh bread, and the table gleamed with silverware polished to a mirror shine.

I hurriedly said I had already eaten.

I didn’t trust myself to sit at that table, to pretend everything was fine. My hands were still shaking, and I was sure she’d notice if she looked too closely.

The First Lady continued chatting with me while lovingly serving the younger son a bowl of soup. “You’re already grown, yet you’re still jealous of your brother?”

She ruffled his hair, her smile indulgent. The younger son grinned at me, slurping his soup with boyish enthusiasm.

The younger son downed the soup in one gulp. “No matter how old I am, I’m still your kid. Competing for affection and acting spoiled in front of Mom is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He winked at me, and for a moment, I almost smiled. The easy affection in this house was so different from the cold formality of my own.

The First Lady tapped his forehead with a smile. “You—hurry to class. If you’re late, your tutor will give you an earful.”

He grinned, grabbed his backpack, and dashed out of the room, leaving a trail of laughter behind him. The First Lady watched him go, her smile fading as the door closed.

Watching the younger son’s hasty departure, the First Lady’s smile slowly faded. “Are you here to ask me to stand up for you?”

Her tone was sharper now, all warmth gone. She fixed me with a look that made me feel like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

I quickly stood up straight. “Nothing escapes your eyes, ma’am. Carter switched the bride, and I do feel wronged, but I’m not someone who doesn’t know her place.”

My voice was steady, but my heart raced. I chose my words carefully, not wanting to sound desperate.

The First Lady’s deep gaze fell on my face. “Then why did you come to the mansion?”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to slip up. I swallowed hard, searching for the right words.

I bowed low. “I have a matter of great importance. After much thought, I felt I had to confide in you.”

I kept my head down, hoping she’d hear the sincerity in my voice. The silence stretched between us, heavy and tense.

Her brows furrowed. “You came from a small town. What great matter could you possibly have?”

Her skepticism stung, but I stood my ground. I glanced around, noticing the staff hovering at the edges of the room, their eyes sharp.

I glanced at the staff around and bit my lip, remaining silent.

I let the silence speak for me, hoping she’d understand. The tension in the room was palpable.

The First Lady impatiently waved her hand. “All of you, out.”

The staff filed out, closing the doors softly behind them. The room felt suddenly too big, too empty.

The room fell into a strange silence.

The ticking of the clock was the only sound. I felt exposed, every word hanging in the air between us.

After a long while, the First Lady spoke in a calm voice. “Is something wrong with Carter? I won’t hide it from you. Back then, because I failed to protect him, he suffered so much. Now, in my heart, Carter is above everyone else. If you slander him, be prepared for consequences.”

Her words were a warning, but beneath the steel I heard a mother’s fear. I hesitated, weighing my next move.

Such favoritism—I had never received it in all these years.

A pang of jealousy shot through me. I wondered what it would feel like to be loved so fiercely, to have someone defend you no matter what.

I blinked, hiding the envy and sorrow in my eyes. “Does ‘everyone’ include your younger son?”

My voice was soft, but the question hung in the air. The First Lady’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening.

She suddenly stood up. “If you keep spouting nonsense, don’t blame me for forgetting old ties.”

Her words were ice-cold. I flinched, but held my ground, refusing to look away.

A sense of suffocation swept over me. My vision went black, and I bit my tongue hard to stay clear-headed, staring at her bloodshot eyes and speaking hoarsely: “If you don’t believe me, why are you so agitated? You must have suspected it before, right?”

My voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silent room. I watched her face crumble, just for a moment.

She slowly released my hand, as if losing all strength, and collapsed into her chair. “Impossible!”

She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. I stood there, unsure whether to comfort her or flee.

That time he fell into the water, Carter, though he survived, was left with a limp. It was I, unable to bear seeing him mocked by the other kids, who taught him to make platform shoes so no one would notice his limp.

I remembered showing him how to hammer the blocks to his shoes, laughing as we painted them together. It had been our secret—a way to protect his pride.

But those who serve Carter, or those who covet his position—if they pay attention, this not-so-secret secret will eventually be discovered.

The political world of the capital was cutthroat. I knew that any sign of weakness could be used against him. My warning was as much for her as it was for myself.

The governor has four sons and five daughters. By family background and the governor’s affection, your family should be secure. I heard that a month before Carter returned to the capital, the governor already intended to make the younger son his heir.

The stakes were high. Every family in the capital watched the governor’s decisions, waiting for a chance to rise—or to bring down a rival.

The younger son, both emotionally and rationally, would not and could not fight his own brother. For Carter’s pride, he would surely keep a low profile. But the third and fourth sons wouldn’t be so gentle.

I’d seen the way they eyed Carter, the way they whispered in the hallways. The competition was fierce, and there were no guarantees.

Do you want to lose to the socialite Mrs. Shaw and her son, and bow to her in the future? Or lose to Mrs. Dean and her son, dragging your clever younger son down with you?

I laid out the risks, hoping she’d see reason. The First Lady’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with doubt.

Today I have troubled you with my clumsy words. Please punish me as you see fit.

I bowed low, bracing myself for her wrath. My knees pressed into the polished hardwood, the pain grounding me in the moment.

After speaking, I dared not look at the First Lady’s darkened face, bowing low on the ground.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating. I focused on the intricate pattern of the rug, waiting for her verdict.

A sharp pain shot through my knees. The room was so quiet it made me uneasy.

I could hear my own breathing, shallow and ragged. The tension was unbearable.

After a long, long time, the First Lady finally spoke coldly: “Get up. You saved my son’s life. Today I’ll let you go. If you dare act out again, I won’t be so lenient.”

Her voice was clipped, but there was a hint of gratitude beneath the frost. I scrambled to my feet, relief and fear warring inside me.

I hurriedly got up, stumbling.

My legs were numb, but I forced myself to stand tall. I refused to let her see how shaken I was.

The barrage, quiet for a long time, once again flashed before my eyes:

[What does this side character even want? No way—my girl’s supposed to be the most powerful woman around. Why’s this side character so bitter—if she can’t have it, she wants to wreck it?]

[And what’s so special about the younger son? Everybody knows he ambushed the lead on his way back to the capital. If the lead hadn’t gotten lucky, he wouldn’t have made it. And now this side character is trying to get the First Lady to give up on the lead.]

[Ugh, I want to jump into the story and kick this side character out. She’s just stirring up trouble, so gross.]

The comments stung, but I felt a strange sense of triumph. For once, I’d shaken things up, forced the story off its rails.

The barrage was in an uproar, but I was in a great mood.

I almost laughed out loud, savoring the chaos. Maybe I couldn’t win, but I could at least make them sweat.

Who knew the First Lady would glance at me and add, “You hold such a big secret about Carter; I can’t feel at ease with you.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine. I realized, too late, that I might have overplayed my hand.

I shivered in fright. After all, this was not Maple Heights, but the capital.

Here, power ruled everything. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very small.

Her gaze lingered on me for a while. “Since you don’t want to marry my son, I won’t force you. My nephew is lively and playful—a good match for you. When Carter gets married, I’ll arrange for you to marry him.”

The offer was unexpected. I tried to hide my surprise, wondering what kind of man this nephew was. But anything was better than being a mistress.

[Wait, who is this nephew? Why is the plot going off the rails? If the side character doesn’t marry into the governor’s house, how are my girl and the lead supposed to fall in love?]

[Yeah, if the side character isn’t pushing things, the lead would never promise to clear out the harem and love only my girl.]

The voices got shriller, almost funny in their outrage. I felt a surge of defiance—why should my life be a stepping stone for someone else’s happy ending?

The more I read, the angrier I got. So all of us are just stepping stones for Savannah?

My jaw clenched. I refused to be used, to be cast aside when I was no longer useful.

I refuse!

I said the words aloud, feeling their power. I would not let them write my ending for me.

Facing the First Lady’s deep gaze, I bowed low. “I am willing.”

My voice was clear, unwavering. For the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Dragging my tired body back home, before I could even change out of my sweat-soaked clothes, my mother sent someone to escort me to the family room.

The house was quiet, almost eerily so. I trudged up the steps, the fabric of my dress clinging to my skin. My mind raced with possibilities and fears.

Dad held a leather belt in his hand. “I warned you a thousand times—after coming to the capital, mind your manners. Yet you entered the mansion without permission. I have to teach you a lesson in front of the family.”

His voice was hard, but his eyes darted away from mine. I could see the tension in his jaw, the uncertainty in his stance. This was about more than discipline—it was about control.

I suddenly grabbed the belt from Dad’s hand. “Cousin will be married in half a month, and my marriage will be decided that day as well. Do you really want me to go to my wedding covered in bruises?”

My voice was steady, but my hands shook. I met his gaze, daring him to defy me. For once, I held the power.

I was referring to my marriage to young mayor Preston Reed, but Dad must have thought of what Carter said before leaving—that he would take me as a mistress on his wedding day.

The confusion flickered across his face, but he quickly masked it. The family’s reputation was at stake, and he knew it.

Though it’s only as a mistress, it’s still marrying into a political dynasty. Dad hesitated for a moment, then finally threw down the belt.

He let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples. The fight had gone out of him, at least for now.

Mom gently helped Dad to his seat. “Let’s not leave any marks. She can still kneel in the family room, right? Evelyn is too unruly—let her reflect a while.”

Her voice was soft, but there was no kindness in it. I knelt, staring straight ahead, refusing to show any weakness.

I stared at the few family photos on the Hamiltons’ mantel and sneered.

The smiling faces in the frames looked nothing like the people I knew. I wondered if they’d ever loved me at all.

My ancestors are far away, in the Clark family of Maple Heights. What is the Hamilton family to me?

The thought brought a strange comfort. I wasn’t alone—I had roots, a real family who cared.

Three days before cousin Savannah’s wedding, people from the Clark family arrived.

The house was suddenly alive with activity—laughter, the clatter of dishes, the scent of fresh flowers filling the air. For the first time in ages, I felt like I belonged.

The loving Grandma, the dignified Uncle, and the gentle Aunt—they brought seven truckloads of wedding gifts.

The sight was breathtaking—boxes piled high with ribbons, heirloom quilts, silver candlesticks, even a gleaming upright piano. The neighbors gathered on their porches, whispering in awe.

When they learned that Savannah was to marry my childhood friend Carter, now the governor’s heir, Grandma’s always-smiling face turned cold. “Linda, I entrusted Savannah to you, and you promised to take good care of her. How could you treat my Savannah like this?”

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the chatter like a knife. My mother’s face paled, her hands twisting in her lap. The room fell silent, all eyes on Grandma.

Mom was scolded by Grandma and instantly changed her expression. Cousin Savannah anxiously clung to Grandma. “Grandma~ Marrying Carter was my idea. Aunt couldn’t refuse me. Why blame her? In the capital, you’re the only family I have.”

Savannah’s voice quivered, her lower lip trembling as she looked up at Grandma with wide, pleading eyes. But I saw the calculation there, the way she pressed herself against Grandma’s side, angling for sympathy.

Aunt’s expression grew uglier. She frowned. “That was Evelyn’s fiancé. How could you want to marry him? How is Evelyn supposed to face this? You—you’ll be the death of me.”

Aunt’s voice cracked, her hands shaking as she reached for a handkerchief. The pain in her eyes was real, and for the first time, Savannah seemed to falter.

Cousin looked more and more impatient. “Mom, people should aim high. Should I refuse Carter’s affection and give up the chance to rise above others? It’s Carter who loves me. Whose parents are you, always siding with others?”

Savannah’s words were bold, her chin lifted defiantly. The room bristled with tension, the old wounds between us laid bare for everyone to see.

Uncle slapped the table. “You fool! Don’t you realize, if Carter can abandon Evelyn today, how will he treat you in the future? We’ve spoiled you since childhood, and now you’re so shortsighted?”

His voice thundered through the room. The younger cousins shrank back, and even Savannah looked chastened. I felt a surge of gratitude—finally, someone was on my side.

My eyes grew hot. Such upright and honest elders—these are my true parents and grandmother.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. For the first time in a long while, I felt seen, protected.

[Are the Clark family people out of their minds? Look how wronged our Savannah is.]

[But I think the Clark family is right. Just because Savannah is the main character, does that mean she can steal someone else’s fiancé?]

The barrage was split, voices arguing back and forth. I ignored them, focusing on the warmth of my family’s support.

The barrage was noisy, but I volunteered to escort the Clark family to the guest rooms to rest.

I led them down the hallway, my steps lighter than they’d been in weeks. Grandma squeezed my hand, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Along the way, Grandma held my hand, apologizing to me again and again.

She brushed a stray hair from my forehead, her eyes shining with tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You deserved better than this.”

Uncle was downcast. “Savannah is nothing like a daughter of our Clark family. How did she become so eager to curry favor with the powerful?”

He shook his head, his disappointment clear. I could see the pain in his eyes, the worry lines etched deep on his face.

I looked around, making sure there were no eavesdropping staff in the guest wing, then leaned close to Uncle. “Uncle, two days ago, I went to see Mom and vaguely heard Mom and Cousin arguing. Cousin said she is the real daughter of the Hamiltons and asked Mom what she was worried about, why she wouldn’t give her more wedding gifts.”

I whispered the words, careful to keep my voice low. Uncle’s eyebrows shot up, and Grandma’s grip on my hand tightened. The truth was finally coming to light, and for the first time, I felt hope bloom in my chest.