Chapter 1

dopted daughter, and on paper, Julian Sinclair's little sister.

Yet he forced me to bear him three children back-to-back, only to turn around and hand every single one over to his wife, Vivienne.

Back then, I struck a deal with the Sinclairs: once I gave birth to three children, they would let me go. Now my time was up, but Vivienne only ramped up her torment, while Julian stood by and watched with cold detachment.

I thought if I could just endure these final days, I would be free of the Sinclairs forever.

Until I discovered I was pregnant with a fourth child.

This time, even if it cost me everything, I was going to escape the Sinclair family!

Clara POV

It was the third night after I gave birth to my first son.

I could barely get out of bed, and a dull, heavy ache dragged through my lower abdomen.

"Stand right there. Don't you dare step inside until I say so." Vivienne pointed toward the courtyard.

That night, I stood in the yard for two agonizing hours.

The chill from the stone pavers seeped directly into the soles of my feet, crawling up my calves and into my spine.

When my legs went completely numb, I shifted my weight to the other foot, not daring to let out a single heavy breath.

After that, it became a house rule.

In the winter, the biting wind froze my knees stiff. Even after crawling under the covers inside for half an hour, my feet would still be like blocks of ice.

In the summer, swarms of mosquitoes attacked me, leaving hard, angry welts all over my arms. I didn't dare scratch, because scratching meant a vicious scolding from Vivienne.

Over twenty times in total. I kept track of every single one.

Sometimes she made me stand for an hour, sometimes three, entirely depending on her mood that day.

I didn't hate her. Hating someone took too much energy.

I saved all my strength to count down the days: every time I was forced to stand out there, I was one step closer to leaving the Sinclair family for good.

To the outside world, Julian treated his wife, Vivienne, like a fragile queen.

Years ago, she had been injured saving him and could no longer have children. In public, Julian was completely devoted, never speaking a harsh word to her.

No one knew that at night, he slipped into my bedroom.

I was adopted by the Sinclair family when I was eight. My original name was Clara Vance.

The family didn't like that name, so they changed it to Clara Sinclair.

The year I graduated from college, I was planning to marry my first love, Shawn.

The old master of the family refused. He threatened Shawn's career and his family's business, forcing me to bear children for Julian instead.

My rebellion failed. In the end, I demanded only one condition: let me give birth to three, and then set me free.

The day my eldest son was born, the nanny took him away immediately. I only caught a single glimpse of his wrinkled little face.

When my second son arrived in the guest room, the anesthesia had barely worn off before Vivienne carried him straight to the master bedroom. I didn't even get to touch him.

I didn't dare look at the children anyway.

Looking at them made me fear that attachment would take root in my heart, making it impossible to leave when the time came.

Julian would come to my room at night, get dressed, and leave the moment he was done, barely uttering a word.

Once, as he buckled his belt, he casually tossed out, "I've wronged you."

I lay on the bed and didn't reply.

I knew full well what I was: nothing more than an incubator.

I still remembered negotiating with the old master in his study all those years ago.

He held his cup, speaking at a leisurely pace: "Shawn is up for an overseas transfer at the end of the year. Whether he gets banished to the middle of nowhere or stays at headquarters depends entirely on a single word from the Sinclairs."

My face had gone deathly pale. "Grandfather, isn't having two children for him enough? I'm only twenty-two."

The old man blew lightly on his coffee. "What does twenty-two matter? How do you plan to repay what it cost the Sinclair family to raise you for over a decade?"

"I'll work and pay it back."

He chuckled. "You think the Sinclair family needs your pocket change?"

I bit my lip until it bled. "Fine. Three. Once I have three, you let me go."

He set the coffee cup back on the desk with a sharp clink. "Deal."

Today was the thirty-seventh day since my third child was born.

Once again, Vivienne had banished me to the courtyard.

A nanny stood on either side of her, one holding my toddler and the other cradling the nursing infant.

Vivienne reclined in a lounger, an empty glass resting beside her hand.

I kept my head down, counting the seams between the stone pavers.

Just as I reached the seventh seam, Vivienne spoke: "Now that all three kids are here, you think it's over?"

I stayed silent.

"Leaving after three was Grandfather's promise, not mine," Vivienne sneered.

My head snapped up.

"You really think you can just walk away?"

Before the words fully left her mouth, she hurled the glass straight at me.

The heavy rim smashed hard against my right temple.

My vision blacked out for a split second.

Warm blood trickled down my brow, dripping onto my collar and blooming into a dark stain.

I didn't dodge, nor did I cry out.

I raised a hand to touch my forehead, feeling the hot stickiness coating my fingers.

The infant burst into frightened wails, and the nanny hastily covered the baby's face, shrinking back.

I stood rooted in place, letting the blood stream down.

I didn't wipe it away.

Vivienne wanted to see me bow my head and beg. I refused to give her the satisfaction.

The freezing wind howled past.