Chapter 2

Nora's POV

Ever since I was little, I knew I was the unwelcome one in the Miller household.

Not because I wasn't good enough, but because I was too good.

I was so accommodating that everyone grew accustomed to my sacrifices, taking every concession I made as a matter of course.

The day my sister Daisy was born, my father was pacing the hospital hallway, so overwhelmed with emotion he could barely speak, while my mother wept tears of absolute joy holding that tiny, wrinkled infant. I was only four years old, standing on tiptoe by the room's doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of my new little sister.

My mother glanced up at me, her voice tired yet firm. "Nora, this is your baby sister. You have to give in to her, understand?"

From that moment on, that command was branded into my bones.

When Daisy was three, she fancied my favorite ragdoll. My mother snatched it straight out of my hands and shoved it into Daisy's arms, before turning to me with a frown. "Your sister is younger. You’re the big sister. Learn to share."

When I was six, I brought home a perfect test score, bursting with excitement. My parents merely gave me a brief, indifferent nod. That same year, Daisy was four, and when she managed to sing a simple nursery rhyme, my parents threw a lavish party and invited half our extended family to applaud her.

When I was ten, I came down with a fever of a hundred and two. I was all alone in the house. I called my mother, but she said she was sitting in on Daisy's private ballet lesson and couldn't leave, telling me to just swallow some ibuprofen myself. I took the medicine and curled up in bed, shivering under two thick quilts, freezing to the bone.

When Daisy was twelve, she got a simple mosquito bite. My parents panicked and rushed her to the emergency room in the middle of the night. The doctor said it was just a mild localized reaction and that she’d be fine by morning. Even so, my parents took shifts sitting by her bedside, not sleeping a single wink.

Standing outside that ER cubicle, watching my parents clutch Daisy’s hand with such profound worry, I suddenly thought back to my feverish night alone, telling myself it wasn't really that bad.

I always consoled myself that way. I always swallowed my grievances, telling myself my parents worked hard, telling myself Daisy was still young, telling myself I needed to be the mature, sensible daughter.

I was too sensible. For over twenty years, I was so well-behaved that I had forgotten how to cry out loud.

Lucas Payne had been our next-door neighbor. Two years older than me, ridiculously handsome, brilliant, and wealthy, he was the golden boy everyone adored.

My crush on him began when I was thirteen.

I would wake up at six in the morning just to stage an "accidental" encounter while he was out for a morning jog. I saved every penny of my allowance just to track down the rare imported books he casually mentioned wanting to read. Whenever he passed by, I’d drop my gaze, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I thought it would burst.

I loved him silently for seven years.

Over those seven years, I wrote countless letters I never dared to mail, kept every pen he had ever lent me, and filled secret sketchbooks with his profile.

I thought I kept my secret well hidden.

Until one day, I found out Lucas and Daisy were dating.

It poured rain that night. I went up to the rooftop terrace, letting the storm soak me to the skin. I didn't know why I was crying, tears mixing with the rain until I couldn't tell the difference between the cold water and my own misery.

Later on, Lucas and Daisy broke up.

Then, they got back together.

Eventually, they got engaged.

For seven years, I watched Lucas pour his soul into loving Daisy. I thought I had made peace with it. Yet every single time I caught sight of his back in a crowded room, my heart still skipped a painful beat.

I was pathetic.

Lucas had never truly looked at me. To him, I was just the quiet, polite girl next door. Nothing more.

Julian Vance was Lucas's college friend.

We first met at one of Daisy’s lavish birthday bashes. Julian saw me sitting by myself in a quiet corner of the lounge and walked over with a glass of champagne.

"Why aren't you out on the dance floor?" he had asked.

I shook my head timidly. "I’m not really good at socializing."

Julian had smiled warmly, pulling up a chair beside me. "Neither am I."

That was the first time in my life someone chose to step away from the spotlight just to sit in the corner with me.

From that day forward, Julian became an omnipresent fixture in my life. He’d bring me breakfast, remember my offhand comment about loving tiramisu, drop off hot lattes whenever I had to work late at the office, and sit silently beside me whenever I was feeling down, asking for nothing in return.

I thought it was love.

I truly believed I had finally found someone who saw me for who I was.

What I didn't know was that Julian’s sudden interest in me had everything to do with Daisy.

Daisy was desperate to marry Lucas, but the Payne family’s high-society standards demanded a daughter-in-law from an untainted, prestigious pedigree. As the treasured youngest daughter, Daisy’s reputation had to remain entirely spotless—free from any awkward romantic history or sibling rivalries. And I, the notoriously compliant elder sister, was the chess piece Julian maneuvered to clear the board.

Julian was a masterful actor.

His deep affection and gentle patience fooled everyone around us—including me, and seemingly even himself.

Those 365 handwritten letters were penned with striking, breathtaking sincerity. The thousands of photographs captured me laughing and smiling with genuine warmth. That thick leather-bound notebook of his, meticulously documenting every single food preference, allergy, and quirk I had—he knew me better than I knew myself.

He committed so thoroughly to the lie that I spent years believing he genuinely worshiped the ground I walked on.

Until that phone call last night shattered the entire illusion.

Daisy had caught a cold and was whining on the line, crying about how much she missed him. After hanging up, Julian had casually told his friend, “If you want to pull off a convincing performance, you have to commit completely. That’s the only way to fool everyone.”

It was a performance.

From the very beginning, every single second was calculated.

Standing outside that door, the brutal truth finally snapped into focus.

I had returned to my room, sitting alone in the heavy darkness.

Outside, a violent thunderstorm tore across the night sky, lightning ripping through the clouds as thunder shook the windowpanes.

I didn't shed a single tear. I just sat motionless until the gray light of dawn crept through the blinds.

When morning came, I opened my laptop and typed into the search bar: Private island for sale Arctic Circle.

The very first listing read: Aurora Island. A private estate in the Arctic Ocean. Freehold title. Midnight sun, polar night, and year-round northern lights.

I clicked the link.

Three days later, the deed to Aurora Island and the confirmation contract for my bespoke companion service landed in my encrypted inbox.

I wired the full payment immediately.

For the first time in over twenty years, I did something entirely for myself.

Not for my sister. Not for my parents. Not for Lucas Payne. And certainly not for Julian Vance.

Just for me.