My voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. My parents held me and wept for a long time. Remembering my grandfather lying unconscious in the emergency room, they finally agreed.

Once the decision was made, my parents threw themselves into preparing the best wedding they could within their means. I busied myself choosing a new gown and arranging the venue.

For a time, I almost managed to forget those two. But then Daniel called, inviting me to Chloe’s birthday banquet. If I attended, he said, part of the cooperation with Carter Group would begin.

I hesitated, then answered coldly, “Fine.”

On the night of the party, I walked into the grand hall under the weight of countless stares.

Ignoring the whispers around me, I stood quietly in a corner, dressed in a simple black gown, watching Chloe and Daniel at the center of the crowd.

They wore the latest matching outfits from a luxury brand—less like foster siblings celebrating a birthday, more like a pair of newlyweds basking in the spotlight.

“Daniel, look, Emma’s here. Go and smooth things over,” Chloe cooed, holding his arm as they walked toward me.

But as soon as she got close, Chloe’s eyes went wide with horror. She trembled violently until Daniel pulled her into his arms and snapped at me:

“Chloe has a trauma response to black. Did you wear this deliberately to hurt her?”

“I didn’t know—no one told me…”

I tried to explain, but Daniel cut me off. His furious eyes reflected my helplessness, his tone ice-cold.

“Guards, take her upstairs and change her clothes.”

Dozens of eyes turned toward me. The whispers in the room grew sharper, filled now with venom and malice.

Before the crowd, though I was still fully clothed, it felt as if I had been stripped bare.

The guards dragged me upstairs, shoving a maid’s uniform at me and demanding I change. Thinking of the Carter family’s survival tied to Daniel’s so-called cooperation, I swallowed my pride and obeyed.

As soon as I stepped out, I heard Chloe’s sweet voice:

“Daniel, I’m sure Emma didn’t mean it. If you’re still angry, why not punish her by making her play a song for us when we dance later?”

“Make her play Summer Love Song—the one she wrote and composed herself.”

Daniel froze.

I looked at the two of them still clinging to each other and said coldly,

“I came here to attend a banquet, not to provide entertainment. I won’t play anything—least of all Summer Love Song.”