The Stolen Fiancé

The black car aggressively blocked the narrow road ahead of her, cutting off her path. The tinted window rolled down, revealing the sharp profile of Derek Harrington. He was the very fiancé her family was so desperate for her to discard.

His voice sliced through the chill, indifferent and sharp. "You will never make it to Sinclair Villa on foot going this way. Are you planning to walk all the way there?"

Sloane halted, her worn shoes scraping the asphalt. She stared at him in silence, her chest tightening with an old, familiar tension. She didn't know how to respond to this sudden intrusion.

"Oakridge has changed completely over the last three years," Derek continued, his tone devoid of warmth. "You won't make it on foot. Get in. I'll take you back."

She remained frozen. The unruly, youthful arrogance that used to define him three years ago had completely evaporated. In its place sat a cold, hardened man radiating sheer impatience.

He pushed the car door open and stepped out into the biting wind, towering over her frail frame. "How much longer are you going to just stand here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. "Get in."

She wanted nothing to do with him. Her instinct screamed at her to walk away rather than accept his hollow charity. But a sudden, overwhelming ache seized her heart at the thought of her grandfather, Arthur—the only person who had ever genuinely cared for her. She desperately needed to see him. Driven solely by that single burning need, Sloane clamped her mouth shut, bypassed Derek's imposing figure, and quietly slid into the leather seat.

The heavy door clicked shut, sealing her inside the confined space. Instantly, her heightened senses picked up a distinct shift. The air inside the luxury car was thick with an unfamiliar, sophisticated floral perfume. It was an elegant fragrance that had entirely replaced the sweet, innocent smell of cheap fruit candy that used to linger in his car three years ago.

That specific candy scent. A bitter lump formed in Sloane’s throat. Back then, a younger, hopelessly naive Sloane had foolishly believed she was truly special to him because of those sweets. Whenever the Sinclair family deliberately isolated her or made her feel worthless, Derek would hand her a piece of bright candy, acting as her only sliver of light in a suffocating house.

But it had all been a cruel illusion.

The crushing, humiliating memory flooded her mind, refusing to be buried. She vividly remembered standing outside the heavy mahogany doors of his private club, her hand raised to knock, only to hear his mocking laughter as he spoke to his elite circle of friends.

*“It’s just some cheap candy,”* Derek had sneered back then, his voice dripping with absolute disdain. *“That is literally all it took to get her wrapped around my finger. I only gave it to her because I pitied her.”*

Another voice from his circle had chimed in, asking about their formal arrangement. Derek’s ruthless response had shattered her fragile heart completely. *“That engagement? It is a mere joke between our grandfathers. Don't take it seriously. Besides, the Sinclair family has a far better heiress waiting in the wings.”*

Everyone in their gleaming, high-society circle had always agreed with that sentiment. In their judgmental eyes, Chloe—the pristine, beloved, and perfectly curated adopted daughter who had been raised with endless wealth—was the only acceptable match for the powerful Harrington heir. Sloane was just a dirty charity case they were forced to tolerate.

Sloane leaned her heavy head against the cool glass of the window, silently watching the blurred streets of Oakridge pass by. She closed her eyes, letting the painful monologue wash over her. She silently reflected that she had never wanted to force the engagement in the first place. She had been fully prepared to call it off amicably. Three years ago, she had even gone to Grandpa Arthur to get his blessing to cancel the wedding, wanting to free both herself and Derek. But before the ink could even dry on that decision, fate and her family's sheer cruelty intervened. She was violently shoved into the legal crosshairs, forced to take Chloe's place and suffer in a brutal prison instead.

She deeply acknowledged that the Sinclair family had never truly welcomed her back from the grim orphanage. In their disgusted eyes, she wasn't their long-lost flesh and blood returning home; she was a filthy, uncultured intruder violently disrupting their pristine, picture-perfect life.

However, as she sat in the suffocating silence of Derek's car, Sloane’s internal resolve hardened into solid, unbreakable ice. The three agonizing, hellish years she had just spent locked behind cold iron bars had fully paid off whatever biological debt she supposedly owed them for giving her life. They were entirely even now. She was completely done with that toxic family, and she was entirely done with Derek Harrington.

The tense, heavy silence in the car persisted for miles. Neither of them spoke a single word until the tires finally crunched against the sprawling, opulent gravel driveway of the Sinclair Villa.

The moment the sleek vehicle came to a smooth halt, the grand front doors of the mansion swung wide open. Chloe practically floated down the marble front steps. She was dressed in an immaculate, angelic white dress that caught the afternoon light perfectly, wearing a bright, welcoming smile. Julian followed closely behind her, draping a heavy designer coat over her delicate shoulders like an eternal guard dog fiercely protecting his precious treasure.

"Derek! You're finally here," Chloe called out sweetly, gracefully approaching the passenger side of the car. "Jules and I have been waiting for you all afternoon."

But the instant Chloe peered through the windshield and her wide eyes landed on Sloane sitting quietly in Derek’s passenger seat, the manufactured, radiant smile completely vanished from her face.

In a fraction of a second, Chloe’s large doe eyes turned glossy and violently red. She expertly adopted the fragile facade of someone who had just been deeply wronged and brutally victimized. She took a tiny, dramatic step back, her lower lip trembling as if she had been physically struck.

Julian’s volatile protective instincts were instantly triggered by Chloe’s sudden distress. He aggressively yanked the passenger door open, his eyes widening in brief shock before rapidly narrowing into a furious, hateful glare.

"Sloane?" Julian demanded loudly, his brow fiercely furrowed in blatant displeasure. "Why the hell are you in Derek's car?"

Derek casually unbuckled his seatbelt, his expression completely unbothered by Julian's outrage. "I simply ran into her on the way here," he replied nonchalantly, his voice perfectly smooth. He threw a pointed, mocking glance directly at Julian. "Why? Didn't you send someone to pick her up from the gates?"

The sharp question hung in the crisp air like a jagged blade. Julian's jaw tightened dangerously, and he instantly fell into a tense, incredibly guilty silence. His own blatant abandonment had just been spectacularly exposed right in front of Derek. He realized he had no defense for driving all the way to the prison, only to leave his blood sister stranded on the side of the road simply because he was angry.

Sensing the dangerous, shifting atmosphere, Chloe quickly stepped into the line of fire. She immediately weaponized a perfectly crafted tone of innocent, selfless consideration.

"Oh, Jules must have just forgotten in all the excitement," Chloe said smoothly, effortlessly covering for Julian's calculated cruelty. She turned her teary, shining eyes toward Sloane, her voice dripping with sickly, fake warmth. "Sloane, welcome home. Why didn't you call us? It is such a good thing Derek ran into you. We are all so thrilled by your return. Mom, Dad, and all the boys have been waiting!"

Sloane slowly stepped out of the car, her worn sneakers hitting the pristine cobblestone of the driveway. She had been hardened by years of surviving the Sinclair family's blatant, unquestioning preference for Chloe’s soft, understanding act. She knew this twisted game far too well now. She completely ignored the manipulative facade. She had learned the hard way that responding to Chloe’s syrupy lies only ever resulted in Sloane taking the full blame for whatever imaginary slight occurred.

Sloane didn't even spare the girl in the white dress a passing glance. Her only pressing concern was reaching Arthur. She gripped the frayed strap of her bag and took a deliberate step toward the towering mansion doors, entirely dismissing the theatrical display playing out before her.

Infuriated by Sloane's blatant, unapologetic dismissal of his precious adopted sister, Julian violently snapped. He lunged forward, aggressively blocking Sloane's path, glaring at her as if she were a mortal enemy who had just committed an unforgivable crime.

"Sloane! Chloe is talking to you!" Julian roared, the veins in his thick neck bulging with pure rage. "Are you deaf? Answer her right now!"

Chloe immediately stepped up, delicately tugging at Julian's tailored sleeve. She bit her lip in a heartbreaking, flawlessly practiced display of pitiful resignation. "Jules, please, don't be mad at her," she pleaded softly, her voice wavering perfectly on the edge of a sob. "It’s okay. I know Sloane hates me. It's totally normal for her to ignore me. I'm completely used to it by now."

That pathetic little whimper only poured gasoline on Julian's righteous fury. He positioned himself even more firmly between Sloane and the door, his eyes blazing with absolute, unfiltered disgust.

"You ungrateful brat," Julian shouted, his harsh voice echoing off the grand marble pillars of the villa. "Chloe doesn't owe you anything! You have absolutely no right to treat her like this!"

Standing on the sweeping driveway of the only home she had ever foolishly tried to belong to, Sloane looked at the two of them. She looked at Julian’s enraged face, distorted by blind loyalty, and Chloe’s tear-stained cheeks, masked in calculated innocence. Three years ago, this exact scene would have broken her naive heart into a million irreparable pieces. Now? She merely found the entire, predictable theatrical display utterly ridiculous.

Sloane finally broke her silence. Her voice was terrifyingly calm, stripping away all the emotional manipulation in the air with a piercing, logic-defying question.

"She doesn't owe me anything, so you think I owe her instead?"