Betrayed Bride, Billionaire's Beloved Queen

Aurora POV:

I didn't walk through the main entrance. I backed away from the gate and moved into the tree line, keeping my body low to the ground to avoid the sweep of the security cameras.

Three years of dodging the guards' line of sight during yard time had hardwired my brain to find the blind spots in any perimeter.

I moved along the side of the property until I found a narrow gap where the decorative iron fence met a thick stone wall. I turned sideways, scraping my shoulders against the rough stone, and squeezed through onto the grounds.

I found myself standing in a massive side courtyard. It was filled with dozens of expensive white rose bushes, all blooming perfectly under the protection of heated glass greenhouse domes.

I stared at the delicate petals, perfectly sheltered from the brutal winter storm. My lips twitched into a bitter, self-mocking smirk.

I turned away from the flowers and moved silently across the snow-covered grass, approaching the massive floor-to-ceiling window at the side of the house.

The heavy heating inside the mansion caused a thin layer of condensation to form on the inside of the glass.

I raised my hand. My knuckles were split and bleeding from the cold. I pressed my palm flat against the glass and slowly wiped away a small circle of moisture.

I leaned in, my eyes focusing on the scene inside. My pupils dilated violently.

In the center of a sprawling, luxurious living room, a massive stone fireplace roared with a warm, inviting fire.

Julian was there. He was wearing a soft cashmere sweater. He was laughing, holding a little boy with bright blonde hair on his shoulders. The boy looked to be about two or three years old.

The child let out a loud, clear giggle, grabbing handfuls of Julian's dark hair.

Julian didn't flinch. He didn't yell. Instead, he tilted his head back, his face glowing with a look of absolute, unconditional adoration.

My lungs stopped working. It felt like a massive, invisible hand had just reached into my chest and crushed my heart into dust. Julian had always told me he despised children. He had made me promise we would never have them.

I stumbled backward. My heel snapped a dead branch buried under the snow, but the howling wind masked the sound.

My eyes darted back to the window. A woman walked out from the kitchen area, holding two mugs of hot cocoa. She was wearing a sheer, expensive silk nightgown.

She turned her face toward the firelight. It was Clara. My stepsister.

I clamped my teeth down onto my lower lip, biting so hard that the metallic taste of fresh blood flooded my tongue.

Clara walked up to Julian. She handed him a mug, then naturally and smoothly rose onto her tiptoes.

Julian lowered his head. He pressed his lips against Clara's in a deep, lingering, familiar kiss.

The little boy cheered from Julian's shoulders, clapping his hands. They looked exactly like a modern oil painting of the perfect, flawless American family.

A wave of intense vertigo hit me. My knees buckled, and I slammed my hands onto the stone ledge of the window to stop myself from collapsing into the snow.

My fingernails scraped against the rough stone, making a sickening sound.

I looked down at my hands. They were raw, covered in chilblains, the skin peeling and ugly. Then I looked back through the glass at Clara's hands resting on Julian's chest.

On her left ring finger sat a massive, flawless pink diamond.

It was the exact custom ring Julian had showed me three years ago. The ring he was supposed to propose to me with.

Rage, humiliation, and an agonizing sorrow mixed together into a toxic sludge, pumping through my veins and setting my blood on fire.

I spun around, pressing my back flat against the freezing brick wall of the house, my chest heaving as I gasped for air.

The tears finally broke free. They rolled down my cheeks, but the freezing wind turned them into ice before they even reached my chin.

I slammed both hands over my mouth, pressing hard against my own flesh to trap the pathetic, broken sobs clawing at my throat.

Suddenly, the sharp click of a heavy metal lock echoed over the wind.

The side door, located just ten feet away from my hiding spot, was opening. Heavy footsteps crunched into the fresh snow, walking directly toward the courtyard.

I pressed my hands harder over my mouth, my eyes wide with a frantic, cornered panic.

"Don't get caught, I absolutely cannot let them see me as a pathetic loser right now."