Chapter 3 The Unloved Daughter

Leah was locked in her room the whole day. No one was allowed to send her food or water. Only her nanny, Martha, who had watched over her since birth, sneakily brought her a bagel and water. Martha knew Leah hadn’t eaten since last night and that she was always weak because of that unknown illness. She would usually pass out without food and water. Martha couldn’t let that happen. But in the evening, Richard and Clara had to attend a party, and Leah had to go with them. To the rest of the world, the Sinclairs appeared to be caring, protective parents—always keeping their mentally unstable daughter close, surrounding her with bodyguards, making it seem as though they were shielding their fragile child. Leah wore a simple lilac dress, with her hair down and no makeup. She didn’t want to go, knowing she’d feel like the odd one out. The party was hosted by Leah’s biological mother, Lily, and her wealthy second husband, Walter Carrington, who also had business dealings with Richard. As always, her father, Richard, stayed close to Clara and Ivy, leaving Leah alone in a quiet corner. Meanwhile, her mother, Lily, and her brother, Henry, were busy celebrating with their new family. Yet, despite everything, what hurt Leah the most was her mother’s cold behavior toward her. When Richard and Lily divorced, she took twenty million dollars as a settlement and full custody of their twelve-year-old son, Henry, while their six-year-old daughter, Leah, remained with Richard. Lily’s cold heart didn’t soften, even when little Leah cried and begged her to take her along. Fifteen years had passed, and no matter how many times Leah tried to see her mother, Lily always refused, making excuses that she didn’t have time. She ignored Leah as if she had never had a daughter. At six years old, Leah couldn’t understand why her mother had abandoned her while her brother got to stay. But now, she understood—no one in this world had ever loved her, and no one ever would. Dash’s family was also invited to the party. Like every other event, Leah stood in a corner, lowering her head, knowing people would find amusement in mocking her with their gazes and expressions. “Leah!” Hearing her name, she lifted her eyes and saw Dash approaching her. He looked at her with the same gaze he used to when they were dating. Uneasy, Leah glanced away, trying to ignore him. But in the next moment, he was standing right before her. Dressed in a sharp black tux, tall and effortlessly handsome, he looked like a male model straight out of a high-end magazine. Any other woman in the room would have been mesmerized—but not Leah. She felt nothing. Her heart, which once raced whenever Dash smiled at her, was now still—numb, leaving only emptiness. “I know you’re upset,” Dash said, his gaze intense. Yet, Leah didn’t spare him a single glance. He stood right in front of her, but she acted as if he wasn’t even there. "Trust me, this wasn’t my choice," he continued, his voice soft, almost pleading. "My parents wanted me to marry Ivy instead." Leah rolled her eyes, uninterested in his lame excuses. "I could have accepted you... being infertile," Dash added in a lower voice. "But the Remington family would never accept a daughter-in-law who’s—" he paused, then forced out the words, "mentally unstable too." But Leah remained unaffected by his words, her face blank and unreadable. "Please, try to understand," he added desperately. "I had to do this—for the sake of business and society. But we can still be in a secret relationship." Secret relationship?! Leah frowned at his shamelessness. "Are you done boring me, Mr. Remington?" Her voice dripped with cold indifference. "Now, please go," she added mockingly. "Your little fiancée would be worried otherwise." She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Dash grabbed her wrist. Leah's eyes widened at his audacity—she couldn't believe he dared to do this in a crowded party hall, engaged to her half-sister. “Don’t walk away like this, baby,” he sighed. Baby?! Her jaw clenched in frustration. She wouldn't tolerate him flirting with her like that. “Mr. Remington,” she snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. “You’re about to be my brother-in-law. It’s highly inappropriate for you to be holding my hand and talking to me like this. Now, let go of my hand.” She tried to yank her hand free from his steely grasp, but Dash didn't budge. Leah’s heart raced with panic. She knew her stepmother wouldn’t take kindly to this—she had already warned her to behave tonight. Any trouble, and she’d suffer the consequences later. “What the hell is going on here?” The furious voice made Dash release Leah's wrist instantly. Leah closed her eyes, sighing. She already knew what was coming next. “You bitch!” Ivy shrieked, storming up to them. She latched onto Dash’s arm, her manicured nails digging into his sleeve. “You’re trying to seduce my fiancé? God, you’re such a slut!” Leah cast an indifferent glance at her half-sister and the man who was, in fact, the one flirting with her. With a taunting shrug, she murmured, “Then keep your fiancé in your handbag.” Ivy’s face twisted in rage and jealousy. “You whore! Stay away from my man!” she shrieked. Before Leah could react, Ivy shoved her glass forward, spilling wine all over her dress. Leah gasped, eyes fixed on the dark stain spreading across the fabric. Amused murmurs and mocking laughter echoed through the crowd, but she barely heard them. For once, their ridicule didn't matter. What broke her heart was the ruined dress. It was a gift from Martha on her birthday, making it her favorite dress. “Ivy?!” Dash snapped in shock, stepping toward Leah, but Ivy clutched his arm, pulling him back. “Oh, Dash, that’s what that bitch deserves for trying to steal another woman’s man,” she spat disrespectfully. “Come on, our parents are looking for you.” Without waiting, she dragged him away. Leah exhaled sharply, staring at the stain spreading across her dress. She stepped out of the party hall, her teary eyes scanning the corridor. The moment she spotted the bathroom sign, she hurried toward it. Inside, she grabbed a paper towel with trembling fingers, dabbing at the satin in frantic motions—managing to lift most of the stain. She rinsed her hands and splashed cold water on her face, taking a deep breath to steady herself. As she stepped out of the bathroom with her head lowered, she collided with something solid. A startled whimper escaped her lips as her eyes squeezed shut in fear, bracing for the fall—but instead of crashing to the ground, she found herself caught in a pair of strong, muscular arms. A deep, surprised voice rumbled above her head, “It’s you!” Leah’s eyes shot open, locking onto the dark, intense gaze of the man holding her.