Faded Hearts, Broken Bonds

I was born into hardship, but my beauty led to my adoption by the Maddox family.

When I was 18, they brought home two boys.

Dustin Holland, a piano prodigy, quickly bonded with my sister, who was the darling of our social circle.

Nathan Holland remained in the shadows. He didn't like to talk, laugh, or even show the normal emotional fluctuations of a person. His stubborn, wooden gaze was like that of an abandoned stray dog.

Diagnosed with emotional detachment disorder, he became my project. I vowed to heal him.

He locked me in a dark room, scarred my face with a branch, and encased my favorite doll in plaster.

I forgave it all, thinking he was just traumatized.

The elite in the circle mocked us, urging me to abandon him, but I kissed him publicly, declaring, "I love Nathan. Anyone who hurts him will pay."

Then a fire tore through our home. Nathan stepped over my broken body to save my sister, his eyes wet with rare tears.

Turned out, his disorder had a cure. It was just not me.

Reborn on the day they arrived, I looked at the taciturn boy and sneered, "Dad, must we take in every stray?"

...

My words froze the room.

Nathan Holland, supposedly numb to emotion, showed a crack in his blank expression.

My dad, Lucas Maddox, was not happy to hear that. He sulked, "They are Barton's children."

My sister, Valerie Maddox, gasped. "Gail, don't be so rude."

Memories of their taunts and Nathan's cruel pranks flashed across my mind. Their fake concern now made my stomach churn.

Lucas cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. "Gail has been spoiled. Don't mind her."

He gestured for me to apologize, but I stayed silent, frowning.

Dustin stepped in, his tone smooth. "It's fine, Mr. Maddox. Gail is just straightforward. We won't take it personally."

His eyes, though, never left Valerie.

She glanced at me, her voice soft but pointed. "Dad wants us to show them around the estate. Don't be stubborn now."

I smirked inwardly, brushing her hand away, and flashed a bright smile. "Dustin is refined, his piano talent matching your skills, Valerie. You two can learn from each other. You can show him around."

Valerie's cheeks turned rosy, and she murmured, "Didn't you say you wanted to learn piano? I'm busy with competitions, and Dustin could teach you."

In my past life, I had fallen for this trap.

Resentful, Dustin made me copy sheet music a hundred times daily, teaching me only a botched version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

At Valerie's birthday party, I played it, earning mockery from the elite. My family felt humiliated and sidelined me.

Then Dustin and Valerie's duet cemented their "perfect match" status.

No one would have guessed that during the fire, Dustin, to save his precious hands, abandoned an unconscious Valerie without a glance.