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The lawyer's pen clicked, signaling the finality of my parents' second divorce, but for me, Emilia, it was just the eerie echo of a past life that had ended with my younger sister, Sophia, stabbing me seven times, and a brutal existence under the ruthless Isabella Vanderbilt. This time, I had to escape Isabella's grasp, so I deliberately plunged down the stairs, disfiguring myself, knowing Isabella would never accept "damaged goods" as an heir. My father, Richard, confirmed my desperate gamble: "Isabella will never accept damaged goods!" I stayed with my kind mother, Linda, and we built a new, humble life away from that toxic world. But then Sophia, now a condescending teenager, reappeared, flaunting her new life with Isabella, subtly reminding me of my "missed potential." The façade of peace shattered when Sophia sent literal thugs to abduct me, twisting my mother's arm and breaking it right before my eyes. My mom, Linda, screamed in agony, her broken arm a visceral pain that ripped through me. As I was dragged into a black SUV, the metallic taste of terror filled my mouth, utterly desperate and confused. Why would my own sister go so far, inflicting such harm on our own mother? Amidst the chaos, hidden from Sophia's triumphant gaze, I fumbled for my emergency phone. I dialed a number I had only memorized in secret, a last resort: the private line of my estranged grandmother, Eleanor Ainsworth, a name that commanded respect even in the darkest corners of New York society. This time, everything would be different.