My Fiancé Loves My Adopted Sister

Madeleine Riley stumbled out of the prison gates, her legs barely holding her up. The sun blazed overhead, forcing her to squint and raise a hand to shield her eyes. The scars etched across her skin told the story of a month-long nightmare—cruel cellmates who'd forced her to drink toilet water, who'd beaten and burned her with cigarettes. Every time she'd fought back, she'd paid for it: a broken hand, fresh wounds, more pain. But she'd survived. She was free now.

She'd held on for one reason—Nicholas Hawkins. Her fiancé. He'd convinced her to take the fall for him, promising a fairytale wedding and a real home waiting for her once she got out.

That dream of a home had kept her going. It was the only thing that had.

Madeleine waited from afternoon till dusk, watching the empty corner where his sports car should have appeared. Nicholas's phone went straight to voicemail. Probably buried in work, she told herself. He was a rising star in New York's business world—founder, mover, shaker, indispensable.

She swallowed the disappointment, flagged down a cab, and gave the driver Nicholas's suburban villa address. When she arrived, the house blazed with light and soft music drifted through the windows. A flicker of hope warmed her chest. Maybe he was throwing her a welcome-home surprise.

Clutching that hope, she pushed open the door and stepped into the living room. A servant spotted her, went pale, and glanced nervously toward the center of the room. "Miss Riley... why are you back?"

Madeleine followed the servant's gaze. There, under a grand crystal chandelier, sat Nicholas—surrounded by friends, lounging on the couch. He wore a dark, tailored suit, every inch the elegant, untouchable man she'd fallen for. Sharp features, commanding presence, keeping everyone at arm's length.

Her heart softened. She opened her mouth to call his name—

But a sharp voice cut through the noise.

"Nicholas, wasn't that little pet supposed to get out today?"

Little pet? Madeleine froze mid-stride, a wave of shame crashing over her.

Her mind reeled back. Madeleine had been missing for ten years when her mother, devastated by the loss, sank into depression. To help her recover, Madeleine's father had adopted Jacqueline Riley from an orphanage. When Madeleine finally came home at fourteen, she'd hoped to reconnect with her family. Instead, she found herself shut out.

Jacqueline's tears could erase Madeleine entirely. Her mother would say Jacqueline was the reason she was still alive. Her father would tell Madeleine that as the older sister, she should be generous. Somehow, her return and Jacqueline's unhappiness were always Madeleine's fault.

Nicholas was the only one who insisted otherwise. He told her it wasn't her fault—that the favoritism was on her parents. He promised to protect her. And he did.

Even at the prestigious academy, Madeleine couldn't escape it. Jacqueline spread rumors, turning everyone against her. One winter, she was pushed into a pool—she couldn't swim—and everyone just watched, laughing, as she floundered in her waterlogged clothes. She thought she'd drown.

Then Nicholas dove in. He cut through the freezing water, wrapped his arms around her, and whispered, "Don't be scared."

That was the moment her heart belonged to him.

But Nicholas never publicly acknowledged their engagement. From the outside, it looked like Madeleine was the desperate one—pining, unwanted, not good enough.

"Nicholas, aren't you picking up your little pet from prison today? She'd do anything for you. Now she's twenty-four with a criminal record..." Nicholas's face stayed stone-cold.

"I'm spending time with Jacqueline. Anyone who wants her can go fetch her," he said, waving a dismissive hand.

Another voice chimed in. "Nicholas only cares about Jacqueline. Why would he remember when that little pet got out? If it wasn't for some stupid bet to annoy Jacqueline, he wouldn't have touched her in the first place."

Madeleine's breath caught. Her mind went blank. They were saying Nicholas cared for Jacqueline—that he'd only toyed with Madeleine out of spite?

But it was Nicholas who'd chased her. Nicholas who'd confessed his feelings when she turned eighteen, who'd secretly watched over her. He'd said he wanted to keep things quiet, pretending indifference in public. Sure, it stung, but every time she thought about leaving, he'd pull her back with gentle words. She'd believed he truly cared—that discretion was just his way.

That belief had carried her through six years of hiding.

Madeleine's fingers curled into fists as she heard one more friend laugh. "Honestly, you'd think Nicholas might feel something for her after everything she's done."

And he didn't. Not a flicker.