April’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she approached her father’s study, each step heavy with contemplation. She replayed the scene with Ophelia in her mind, wondering if she’d gone too far. Being cruel wasn’t in her nature, but years of being trampled on had worn her patience thin. Besides, she knew the truth that no one else seemed to see: Ophelia wasn’t the sweet, innocent girl she pretended to be.

April paused at the door, biting her lip as she took a deep breath to steady herself. One last try, she thought. One last attempt to make him understand.

Pushing the door open, she was greeted by her father’s icy glare. Alex sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his expression colder than she’d ever seen. It was a stark contrast to the warm, indulgent smiles he reserved for Ophelia, and the difference stung.

“Tell me,” Alex demanded, his tone sharp and unyielding, “what exactly caused you to throw such a fit the other day?”

April swallowed her anger and forced herself to remain calm. She stepped forward, folding her hands in front of her. “Dad, I’m sorry for my behavior,” she began, her voice even. “But I was just so angry when I heard that Ophelia was engaged to Sen.” She hesitated, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why her? Why dad?”

Alex’s brow furrowed, his confusion quickly giving way to irritation. “What do you mean, why her?” he scoffed. “Should it be you instead? You, with your lackluster grades, your disrespect for others, and your complete lack of values?”

April’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as her father’s words sliced through her. He didn’t stop, listing every perceived flaw as though reading from a script he’d been memorizing for years.

“...But no matter what, I’m your real daughter!” April finally yelled, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Do you get it? Blood is thicker than water. I am your blood!”

She let out a bitter laugh, masking the lump in her throat. “I know this is just a business marriage, so why can’t you change the bride to me? Who’s going to care?”

Alex sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as if she were a problem too exhausting to deal with. His gaze shifted to one of thinly veiled disgust. “April,” he said, his voice cold and detached, “you really can’t see the bigger picture, can you?”

His words were a slap to the face, and April staggered under their weight. “I can’t believe you would talk to me this way,” she choked out, her voice cracking. She had spent years craving her father’s approval, years trying to prove her worth, but it was clear now that her efforts had been wasted. No matter what she did, Alex didn’t—and wouldn’t—love her.

Desperation clawed at her chest as she smiled hesitantly, clinging to one last shred of hope. “Dad,” she whispered, “you’re not serious, right? How could you—”

“April,” Alex interrupted, his voice firm and unyielding. “Please don’t create any more problems for us—or for your sister.”

His words were final, and the pleading in his tone was enough to extinguish the last embers of April’s fight. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He wasn’t even going to try to understand her.

“She’s not my sister,” April muttered weakly, the fight drained from her voice. She turned and left the study, her father’s sigh and the sound of his head falling into his hands echoing behind her.

April trudged back to her room, her heart heavy with anger and despair. Talking to her father had been a waste of time. “I seriously doubt he’s my real dad,” she muttered under her breath. “Forget about him. Forget about Mom too. She knows what’s going on, and she still sides with them.”

As she entered her room, April let her thoughts drift back to the day Ophelia had entered their lives. She remembered the pity in Alex’s voice when he told her about finding the injured girl by the roadside. Ophelia had been alone, vulnerable, and Alex had brought her home out of kindness. At first, April had gone along with her parents’ wishes, playing the role of the accommodating sister.

But things had changed. Her parents’ pity for Ophelia had grown into favoritism, and April had been pushed further and further into the shadows. The sister she had once tried to care for had taken everything—her parents’ love, their attention, and now, even Sen.

Sitting at her desk, April clenched her phone in her hand, her thoughts dark and bitter. She had spent years silently enduring the favoritism, but not anymore. Tonight, she would take control.

She dialed a number and waited for the call to connect. “I have a piece of news for you,” she said to the person on the other end, her voice steady and calculated.

As she ended the call, a small, determined smile played on her lips. She wasn’t going to let Ophelia—and her parents—win without a fight. For the first time, April felt a spark of power within her, and she intended to use it.