Not Family Anymore

Sienna found Declan's arrogant ultimatum almost amusing. The sheer absurdity of his threat hung heavily in the damp air between them. A cripple? The Lancaster family would never accept her? She almost laughed at the phantom memories of her own past stupidity. In her previous life, those exact words would have shattered her heart into a million irreparable pieces. She would have dropped to her bleeding knees right then and there in the mud, crying and pleading for a single scrap of his elusive affection.

Now, her calm, deadpan eyes simply met his look of utter disbelief.

"It does not matter anymore," Sienna stated. Her voice carried an emotionless clarity that cut right through the rhythmic drumming of the storm outside. "After all, you never truly treated me as family to begin with."

Declan stood frozen, the heavy rain dripping from the edge of the shelter roof just inches behind his broad shoulders. He blinked, clearly struggling to process her tone.

Sienna held his gaze without a single tremor of hesitation. "In that case, let us just not be family anymore."

Declan’s handsome, idol-perfect face turned rigid. The temperature in his dark eyes plummeted to freezing. To him, Sienna had always been a desperate, obedient pet. She was someone who constantly craved his approval, hovering in the background just hoping he would cast a fleeting glance her way. He loathed the idea of his usually compliant punching bag suddenly slipping out of his iron grip and finding her own voice.

A dark sneer twisted his lips as he looked down at her battered form. "Fine. Just do not regret this decision. And I am warning you right now—do not come back crawling and begging me to call you my sister again."

Sienna shot back with a razor-sharp truth, refusing to back down. "Did you ever treat me like a sister?" A cold scoff escaped her lips. "You constantly declared to anyone who would listen that your only true sister would always be Chloe."

Furious and deeply humiliated by her newfound spine, Declan spun on his heel. "Glad you finally understand your proper place," he gritted out through clenched teeth. Without another word, he walked out into the pouring, relentless rain. He expected her to drag her injured, bleeding leg through the thick mud to chase after him and apologize, exactly as she would have done in her tragic past life.

But this time, Sienna only watched his retreating back and scoffed, finally letting go of the exhausting years she had spent degrading herself. She gave him the cold shoulder just once, and his fragile ego was already shattering. From this moment on, he and the rest of the Lancaster family would just have to get used to her indifference.

The heavy rain battered the flimsy roof above her head. Sienna shifted her gaze around the rundown, collapsing shelter. It was little more than a pile of rotting wooden boards and loose tarp. She had suffered a severe leg injury while saving Declan from a dangerous fall down a rocky slope. Because of that sacrifice, she ended up being the last contestant to make it back to the base camp. Instead of gratitude, this dilapidated shed was her petty punishment, dictated by Declan himself. The filming crew had originally planned to move her, seeing as the storm had caused one corner of the shelter to cave in and flood the floor. But Declan had taken one look at a minuscule scratch on Chloe’s pristine leg, lost his temper, and commanded that Sienna stay in this leaky ruin.

Meanwhile, he had carefully scooped Chloe into his arms and carried her straight to the luxurious, weatherproof winner's suite. He claimed the first-place prize for Chloe, leaving his actual blood sister behind to rot in the biting cold.

Sienna stared at her bleeding foot. Knowing the intimidated filming crew would never dare let an on-site medical professional treat her without Declan's explicit permission, she refused to just sit around. Waiting meant risking severe blood loss. Waiting meant missing the optimal window for treating the deep gash. She was not going to let her foot become permanently crippled.

Gritting her teeth, Sienna swung her legs off the makeshift cot and forced herself to stand. The second her injured foot made contact with the dirt floor, a white-hot, agonizing pain shot up her leg. It felt as if her flesh was being torn apart all over again by jagged glass. She frowned, her knuckles turning white as she braced her weight against the wooden wall, but she swallowed the groan rising in her throat. Compared to the gruesome torture she endured before her death in her previous life, this localized physical pain was child's play.

She limped toward the entrance, managed to borrow a simple, black umbrella from a hesitant production assistant, and stepped right out into the wild, unforgiving woods of the island.

Back at the base camp, the production staff watched in silent awe. The pale, slender girl walked with a heavy limp, leaving a visible trail of deep red blood in the slick mud with every single step she took.

"That girl is hardcore," one cameraman whispered, shaking his head as he watched her disappear into the tree line. "She is so young, but she is ruthless with herself. A wound that deep and she did not even make a peep."

"Tell me about it," a makeup artist muttered under her breath, glancing toward the glowing windows of the winner's suite. "Meanwhile, Chloe acts like a tiny, invisible scratch is a double leg fracture. If the medic had walked any slower, that paper cut would have healed on its own. The little princess was bawling louder than this damn rainstorm."

Another producer chimed in, crossing his arms over his rain jacket. "We have only been filming for two days, and Sienna has already crushed every survival challenge. She treats this dangerous island like her own backyard. Yet Chloe gets all the airtime and praise just because she is the Lancasters' precious gem, with Declan guarding her around the clock. That is the sad difference between having old money and being a nobody."

The crew's hushed awe quickly morphed into sheer panic. They suddenly realized Sienna had not just walked to the edge of the camp—she had vanished deep into the dangerous, untamed zones of the island. The broadcast cameras in that specific sector were offline. The storm was rapidly worsening, turning the forest into a death trap.

"Where did she go?" the director barked, waving his radio. "Find her! If she dies out there, Declan will still find a way to blame us!"

Ignoring the heavy, torrential rain that mercilessly battered the canopy of her umbrella, Sienna trekked roughly sixteen hundred feet away from the miserable shelter. The wind howled through the dense, overgrown woods, whipping stray branches against her arms and face. She focused solely on the uneven terrain beneath her boots. Yesterday, during a foraging task, she had mentally bookmarked a specific field of wild medicinal herbs nestled between a cluster of ancient, moss-covered rocks.

This desolate island was filled with hidden dangers, but it was also teeming with natural resources.

She navigated the treacherous, slippery incline until the familiar green leaves finally came into view. Her injured leg throbbed with a rhythmic, burning intensity with every beat of her heart. Sienna painfully crouched down in the thick mud, balancing her weight on her good knee. She plucked the raw herbs from the soaked earth, her fingers deftly crushing the thick stems and broad leaves to release their potent, healing juices.

She ground the raw plants into a makeshift poultice, pressing the dark green paste directly onto her bleeding, exposed flesh. The sharp sting of the medicinal sap meeting her open wound made her hiss through her teeth, but she kept her bloody hands steady.

As she struggled with the meticulous task of treating her foot alone, the handle of the umbrella resting precariously between her shoulder and neck began to slip. The slick plastic slid against the damp fabric of her jacket. It tilted sideways, threatening to tumble into the mud and expose both her and her fresh wound to the freezing downpour.

Sienna tried to shift her neck to catch it, but her hands were covered in crushed herbs and sticky blood. She braced herself for the shock of the freezing rain.

Suddenly, a large, imposing shadow loomed overhead, blocking out the gray storm light.

Before the umbrella could hit the mud, a pair of slender, elegant hands reached out from the gloom. Long fingers wrapped around the dark handle, catching it with effortless grace. The person lifted the umbrella, holding it firmly and angling it to shield Sienna from the punishing storm.

The sudden absence of rain beating against her shoulders made Sienna pause her movements. She froze, her bloody, herb-stained fingers hovering just inches above her torn skin.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head.

Standing right beside her in the dreary, isolated wilderness was a tall man. He was dressed in a simple, understated white T-shirt and dark black pants. Despite the mundane, casual clothing, he radiated an aristocratic cool. The damp fabric clung slightly to his broad shoulders, highlighting a lean, powerful build beneath. His facial features were sharp, clean-cut, and striking enough to steal the breath from anyone's lungs.

He possessed a cold, almost unreal aura that cut through the damp, chaotic environment of the forest. It was an energy unmatched by anyone Sienna had ever seen in the entirety of Vesperia. Even standing in the gloom of a deserted island storm, he looked like a sovereign descending upon a ruined kingdom.

Sienna did not need an introduction. She knew right away exactly who he was.

Gael Montgomery.

He was the true, untouchable superstar of the entertainment world, holding honors and brilliance that eclipsed every other celebrity combined. But more importantly, he was the elusive heir to the elite Montgomery Group—the leading force in Brampton's cutthroat business world. He was a man born into the highest, most impenetrable echelon of society.