That bitch was cradled safely in the arms of Cassel Zancroft, surrounded by countless gazes filled with affection and admiration.
Why?
Why did everyone treat her like a priceless jewel? Like some spoiled princess who was handed everything she desired—and even things she did not?
Why?
I could not accept it. I refused to accept it.
The moment I saw that possessive tenderness in Cassel's eyes whenever he looked at Rosalia, it felt as though something precious had been ripped away from me.
Something that should have belonged to me.
Something that had been stolen.
The hollow ache inside my chest spread wider and wider until it became unbearable.
This was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
I was the one who should have stood beneath the spotlight.
I was the one people were supposed to adore, protect, and cherish.
That was how it had always been.
