April

I stand there looking around the preparations that started one week before for my sister engagement. My half-sister gwen is going to get engaged today to the most eligible bachelor, Alexander Black. He was her boyfriend when they were in college. His father and mine were friends.

There is a twist in my story to the world she is April, not gwen, and to the world, I'm gwen the evil half sister.

I was born to Quill stroll and Angel stroll. My mom passed away when I was seven. Then my father married Dorothy gwen's mom and my stepmother. She had a son Alpine when she married my father. A year later, Gwen was born. Once she born Dorothy made my father to gave his full attention to gwen and she also made my father to sent me to convent boarding school. Earlier days, my father used to visit and write letters, but later, it stopped slowly like I was forgotten.

Every birthday, I waited for my father, but instead of him, he sent Ambross with chocolates and my favorite strawberry cake. Mr Ambross is my father's personal assistant. He was with my father for years. Whenever I ask about my father, he either tells my father is in a business meeting or he is out of the country for a meeting. As years went, I stopped asking. On my seventh birthday, Mr Ambross came usually with the chocolate box and strawberry cake, but it that there was a letter from my father.

Dear April

I know that you are angry with me for not visiting you. I am really, really sorry, my dear. I don't know how to express how much I'm sorry for sending you there away from me for all these years. But it's enough. I'm coming for you on your next birthday. I will bring you back to me to our home. I promise your mom that I won't make you sad but I did and it's time to change that I will see you soon dear.

Rosa

On my eighteenth birthday, I waited for my father, but he never came. I sat at the bench where I waited for my father. Sisters they ask me to go inside as its cold outside but I stayed there what if my father came late and if he didn't see me he might not come back so I waited even my heart said he was not going to come, but still I waited later my eyes started tearing up and then I sob not because he hasn't come it's because he gave me his words that same he gave my mom, later I slept on the bench. I wake up from my sleep at the news of my father accident.

I remembered that day, Mr. Ambross came to my convent school asking sisters to pack for me they told me my father is in hospital due to an accident. Later I came to know that he was coming to see me and in the way he got into an accident.

When I reached the hospital, he was no more. At the funeral service, I saw my stepmom Dorothy, my step brother Alpine, and my half-sister, gwen they were crying. I sat with them. Dorothy came near and hugged me, even my half-sister gwen.

After the funeral service, I was in my room. Most of the guest they left around evening. When I went down, I saw Mr Black and Mrs Black. I smiled at them, and they returned it. It's been years since I have seen them. They were nice to me. I thought of talking to them, then I saw Mrs Black get up and went towards gwen when she saw gwen coming from the door. she went near and hugged gwen.

Mrs Black was a kind woman. She and my mom were friends. she was there with me day and nights when my mom was in the hospital and looked after me when my mom passed away. later, they moved to England. After that, I lost their contact information, and it's now that I'm seeing them after a long time, and when she hugged gwen, it reminds me of the time how much kind and beautiful person she is.

I turned to go, but when Mrs Black called my name, I stopped and looked at her, but there was a mistake she was calling gwen my name.

I thought she might have made a mistake, but then Dorothy came from my behind thought she might correct her but instead she joined the conversation, and every time, she addressed gwen as me and me as her.

whenever Mrs Black asks me something I try to say and correct her saying by my correct name, but every time Dorothy, she intervenes me.

Mr and Mrs Black left the villa by half past nine. soon as they left, I turned to go to my room, but Dorothy she held my hand and pushed me to the nearby room. gwen and Alpine entered the room along with Dorothy.

" Why are you here ?"

This was the first word my sister asked, seeing me after a long period of time.

" April dear, as your father is no more if you want to survive, obey us... pretend that you are gwen. if not, then pack your belongings and make your way out. don't come back."

Dorothy turned to leave but stopped and continued

" And also pack for that old hag in the old age home. so I hope you will make a wise decision. " With this, she left.

" And if you are staying here, stay away from my fiance," gwen said to me.

I don't have a damn who her fiance is . the only thing that matters to me is my grandma.

I will stay here until I can leave my own and make some money for my grandma treatment. she is my mom's mother. She has alzheimer's disease, and she is in the care of the Quill Foundation. as my father is no more, I have to obey her. Otherwise, it will affect her. I don't want that to happen.

So I stayed here and worked like a servant for the past five years. I also completed my studies from a nearby local college while gwen she was with her fiance in England. Whenever she comes here, I usually sit in my room till they leave. So after five years April, aka gwen is getting engaged to her fiance. Maybe I can also see him today. I want to see him, the person who made me sit in the room. I want to know the reason why these people never want the world to see me as April.

April's pov

The engagement is going to happen in the Mapple venue.

As I stood there on one of the corners, I noticed my sister laughing and chatting with her friends from her time in England. During their visit to our home, they asked her who I was and if I was related to her. Her response was

" Nah, she is one of our servants. don't mind her, " she said and laughed along with them.

yeah, I'm like a servant to them.

I look at my reflection on the glass mirror of one of the decoration to the engagement. A pale-blue-eyed girl was staring back at me. She no longer has the same joy in her blue eyes as she did when she was younger, playing and laughing with her parents. Sadness now fills those eyes. I looked down at my hair. The brown one I received from my mother. My face look plain without makeup, and I detest that aspect of it. I detest makeup. My face is quite chuppy, not like my sister, who has perfect jaws, and she looks like a model, and she is a model. I , on the other hand, I'm curvy. she has many boyfriends when we were young till she met her current fiance. That's what I heard from Jayson.

Jayson, my only true friend, now works as a personal assistant at Nicholas Corporation. We met in college, where he became my rock during some of the hardest years of my life. I juggled multiple part-time jobs just to afford tuition, often exhausted and barely scraping by. He and his girlfriend, Ruth, never once left my side. They even took me in for a few months when I lost my job.

Now, I work as a schoolteacher. I make enough to support myself, but for my grandmother’s medical expenses, I still rely on the funds from my father's foundation , funds controlled by Dorothy.

Five years ago, Dorothy made me sign a contract , she would continue paying for my grandmother’s treatment only if I agreed to change my name and relinquish any claim to my father's estate. That’s when I became Gwen. Only Jayson and Ruth know the truth about me. I never wanted anyone to know, but Jayson figured it out eventually. He and Ruth have been urging me to fight back, especially since Ruth works in the legal department at Nicholas Corporation. She’s offered her help. But I can’t risk it. Dorothy wouldn’t hesitate to cut off my grandmother’s care, and I couldn’t live with that.

“Gwen, dear, there you are,” came a familiar voice.

I turned to see Dorothy walking toward me with her usual polished smile. To an outsider, she might look every bit the doting mother. But I knew better. She was simply playing a role — and she was good at it.

Behind her, I noticed two couples, probably in their fifties, walking toward me with the same warm smile Dorothy had. This time, it felt genuine—but I couldn't bring myself to trust it. People are always kind when they want something. Once they get what they came for, they throw you out like an old rug… or a stray dog."

" Mr and Mrs Nicholas, this is my younger daughter Gwen." Dorothy introduced me to them with her charming smile.

I smiled in return.

Mrs. Nicholas approached and took my hand with a gentle, motherly grace.

“You’re truly beautiful,” she said, pulling me into a warm embrace.

Mr. Nicholas smiled politely.

“Yes, she is beautiful—because she’s my daughter,” Dorothy said with a proud beam, the way mothers glow when their children are praised.

Then Mr. Nicholas turned to her and added,

“Shall we arrange an official engagement party? And perhaps the wedding a week later? Would that suit you?”

Engagement party?

A tight knot formed in my stomach as their words sank in.

They were talking about marrying me off—to their son.

I wasn’t ready.

I didn’t want this.

It felt like she was handing me over, like a loyal dog passed on for its next task.

“Yes, of course,” Dorothy replied, though her voice carried a hint of tension.

“But it may feel a bit rushed, considering we’re in the middle of my elder daughter’s wedding preparations. I’m sure you understand, Mr. Nicholas.”

“I completely understand,” he said gently. “But don’t worry—we’ll take care of all the arrangements, the expenses, everything. All we ask is that the bride is ready for the wedding next week.”

Dorothy smiled, her face lighting up with satisfaction.

“That sounds perfect,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Thank you so much. If Quill were here, he would’ve been overjoyed to hear this.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away.

what a great actress .

They began discussing dates, flipping through calendars and throwing out options like this was just another business transaction. At least Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas had the courtesy to ask if I was okay with it—if I had any thoughts or preferences. But before I could speak, Dorothy dismissed them with a wave.

“There’s nothing to ask,” she said firmly. “She’s thrilled about the engagement. Let’s plan the party for next week, and the wedding two days after.”

I couldn’t understand her urgency.

Why was she so desperate to marry me off?

Maybe she just wanted me out of her life.

The Nicholas were visibly pleased. They handed over the contact details for their wedding team—florists, planners, venues, everything ready as though I had no say at all.

Soon, the celebration began—not mine, but my half-sister’s engagement to Alexander Black. Laughter echoed through the halls. Music filled the air. People danced. Smiled. Toasted. And I wanted nothing to do with it.

I wandered to the bar, poured myself a drink, and welcomed the burn as it slid down my throat. It numbed the ache inside me. Blurred the thoughts I didn’t want to feel. I lost count of how many bottles I drank.

The party roared on behind me, but I didn’t care.

Tonight was mine.

Mine to disappear into.

At some point, someone took my hand. I didn’t know who—they led me gently through the house, into a room where a soft bed waited like an open invitation. I sank into its warmth. Its comfort. The room was hot. I peeled off my clothes and let the softness wrap around me like a lullaby.

As I drifted into unconsciousness, I heard a voice.

“My sweet April…”

And with those words, I let go.

Falling into the warmth, into the darkness, into forgetting.

April's ( pretending as Gwen) pov

I woke to a whisper — soft, sharp, poisonous.

The voices were close, too close. I blinked into the gray morning light, my body strangely heavy, my skin exposed to the cool air. The world around me was still, but my heartbeat thundered like a warning.

Then I saw them.

Dorothy stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes burning with disgust. Beside her, Gwen — polished, poisonous Gwen — wore the same expression carved from ice and contempt. Their presence choked the room like smoke.

A cold shiver crept over my spine.

Then I felt it.

An arm — his arm — lying across my waist.

Bare skin.

My bare skin.

My breath hitched. An invisible knife slid down my throat, cold and merciless.

I turned, unwilling, terrified.

And there he was.

Alexander Black.

Asleep. Naked. In my bed.

This wasn’t a nightmare. It was something worse. This was reality wrapped in horror.

His eyes fluttered open, disoriented. At first, they squinted at the sunlight streaming in. But then he saw me. And in that moment, clarity — dark, violent clarity — filled the space between us.

His warm brown eyes turned to stone.

"What the hell are you staring at?" Gwen's voice tore through me. "The show’s over."

People began to leave, like vultures finished with a carcass. Only four remained: Dorothy, Gwen, Mr. and Mrs. Black.

Gwen stepped forward. The air in the room curdled.

Without hesitation, she struck me. A slap across my cheek that snapped my head sideways.

"You disgusting bitch," she hissed. "How dare you touch what’s mine?"

She raised her hand again — but Alexander grabbed her wrist.

Her rage didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. "You’re defending her?"

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me.

Instead, he said quietly, "Don’t waste your time. She’s not worth it."

His words. His voice. They hit harder than Gwen’s hand.

That wasn’t the Alexander I remembered. Not the boy who once knelt beside me when I cried, who whispered that I mattered, who fought the world on my behalf. That boy was gone — buried beneath whatever mask this man now wore.

Dorothy stepped forward, her voice sharp with rehearsed cruelty. She spoke of shame, of ruined reputations, of weddings lost and pride shattered. I didn’t hear the details — my eyes were locked on Alexander’s hands, wrapped around Gwen’s shoulders, comforting her.

He hadn’t looked at me once.

Then Samuel Black, the man who controlled fortunes and futures with the flick of his hand, stepped forward. Calm. Cold. Final.

“The wedding will happen.”

Relief flickered in Dorothy’s and Gwen’s faces — for a breath.

“But the bride… will be her,” he said, nodding toward me.

Silence, violent and absolute.

"No," Alexander said, his voice a dark rumble. "No, Father. I won’t marry her."

"Then you leave this house with nothing," Mr. Black said without pause. "No name. No money. No empire."

A gasp. A crack in the room’s foundation.

“I’ll leave,” Alexander said, jaw clenched. “Anything’s better than marrying her.”

The final thread inside me snapped.

I wanted to be numb. I begged for numbness. But the pain found its way in — as it always did with him.

Gwen grabbed Alexander’s hand and dragged him from the room.

Everyone left. One by one. Dorothy gave me a look that promised pain, then disappeared into the hallway.

And I was alone.

The silence was deafening. The weight of shame, betrayal, confusion — it pressed against my chest like stone.

I had once dreamed of this man. I’d imagined that if I ever saw him again, I would tell him everything — how I’d carried the memory of his kindness like a talisman. But life had no interest in dreams.

I broke.

Tears spilled soundlessly, not from weakness, but from despair that had nowhere else to go.

Then the door exploded open.

He stood there — Alexander — no longer confused, no longer distant. Furious. His rage swallowed the air like fire devouring oxygen.

He marched toward me, his eyes wild, predatory.

Before I could breathe, he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. The impact stole the air from my lungs.

“What did you put in my drink?” he growled, his voice low and deadly.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

His hand closed around my throat.

Tight. Unforgiving.

I struggled.

The edges of the room began to blur. My hands clawed at his, but he only tightened his grip. Blackness crept in. My body trembled. I waited for death.

Then he let go.

I fell to the floor, coughing, gasping, a burning pain in my throat. He stood over me like a god of wrath.

“I’ll kill you,” he said softly, cruelly.

“I know you’re a good liar. But if you play games with me again, I’ll burn your whole damn world down,”

My eyes watered as I looked up at him, broken.

“I didn’t do anything…” I whispered, voice shaking, throat raw.

“I’m marrying you,” he said with a twisted smirk. “Not because you won, but because I want you to suffer. I want you to understand who you messed with.”

“You want to be Mrs. Black so badly?” he said. “Fine. I’ll give it to you. But I’ll make sure every second of it feels like walking on broken glass."

He turned to leave, but paused at the door.

The shadows wrapped around him like they belonged to him.

"Welcome to hell, wifey,” he said.

And then he was gone.

I sank to the floor, trembling. The walls felt colder now. The light crueler. I didn’t know what world I'm stepped into.

But it wasn’t a marriage.

It was a sentence.

Alexander pov

She is a damn liar.

She stood there with those damned tearful eyes, swearing she didn’t do it.

But I know what I drank.

And I know how I felt.

I’m not a fool.

Someone wanted to see me fall.

Someone wanted me in that bed.

And who else had anything to gain from such a scandal?.

I had woken up disoriented, half-naked, beside her. The air thick with perfume, guilt, and the stench of betrayal. And then — the audience. My mother. My father. April. God, even the staff.

She played her part well.

Too well.

Stunned. Confused. Like she hadn’t spent weeks weaving the perfect trap.

But shock? Shock is easy to fake.

Rage isn’t.

I don’t remember grabbing her—only the sound of her back hitting the wall. Her gasp. Her wide, terrified eyes. The way her fingers clawed at mine as I held her there, just a little too long.

A voice inside me begged to stop. But it was drowned by another—colder, crueler. The one that had been stripped bare and humiliated. The one that wanted her to feel everything I was feeling.

I let her go just before she slipped into darkness.

“You want to be Mrs. Black so badly?” I said. “Fine. I’ll give it to you. But I’ll make sure every second of it feels like walking on broken glass."

She flinched.

Good.

Let her bleed for every lie.

Let her learn who she dared to cross.

I am Alexander Black.

And I don’t forgive.

I don’t forget.

I play for blood.

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