Elizabeth never imagined the pain could still feel this raw.

"We allowed you inside out of necessity, not compassion. Remember your place now. For your own good, never return here again. Our family will never accept you." Henry's voice was ice-cold as he watched her without emotion.

"We wouldn't be this harsh if you weren't Ivan's illegitimate child."

Yes.

Her only crime was being born out of wedlock—her very existence was a mistake from the beginning.

"But is this my fault? Did I choose how I was born?" Elizabeth's question held no anger, no sorrow—only profound confusion.

'Why must I bear all this suffering?'

A flicker of something crossed Henry's eyes before he replied, "You're not at fault, yet it happened to you regardless. That's precisely why you must endure it."

Tears traced paths down Elizabeth's cheeks—proof that the world was truly this unjust. She had never harmed anyone, yet she was forced to carry this burden.

"Is there any reason for our family to accept you? It would be an insult to our name, allowing Ivan to triumph over us and humiliate us."

Henry articulated each word with deliberate clarity.

"And we cannot tolerate such disgrace."

The wealthiest family in Crestwood would never endure such shame.

"Leave now," Henry commanded, dismissing her immediately.

"Never show your face here again. The farther you go, the better."

"Understood." Elizabeth nodded quietly.

What choice did she have but acceptance? She was no longer a Levine—in truth, she had become their shame.

Bowing before Henry, she whispered, "Please take care of yourself, sir."

Henry's fingers twitched against his desk.

He couldn't remain completely unmoved toward the girl he'd spoiled since childhood. If only she weren't Ivan's illegitimate daughter...

Elizabeth neatly folded the thick towel, placed it on the nearby chair, and exited Henry's study.

She moved slowly toward the staircase when she paused, noticing her replacement standing there.

No—Cora wasn't the replacement anymore.

Elizabeth had been the stand-in, occupying Cora's place for over two decades.

Now Elizabeth was reaping what she had sown.

Cora spotted her too, their gazes locking.

That wasn't quite accurate—she was now Cora Bennett, the true heiress of the Levine family who rightfully carried their name.

Elizabeth studied her intently.

Dressed in white gown and plush wool slippers, Cora resembled a delicate flower raised in a greenhouse—nurtured, protected, and utterly pampered.

Elizabeth, by contrast, stood drenched to the bone, her shoes waterlogged and caked with mud.

She walked cautiously, anxious about soiling the manor's expensive carpets.

"What are you doing here?!" an enraged female voice shrieked behind her.

The next moment, a violent shove sent her stumbling forward.

With the staircase directly ahead, she gripped the handrail desperately to avoid tumbling down.

"How dare you show your face here! I was merciful enough to allow your treatment—don't test the limits of my patience!"

Nancy shouted while shielding Cora protectively behind her.

She glared furiously at Elizabeth, unconcerned that she'd nearly fallen down the stairs, and scoffed, "Stop pretending to be weak and vulnerable. Do you think I'll tolerate you unconditionally just because you act pitiful?

Do you believe you're still my daughter?! Let me be clear—I wouldn't spare you a second glance if you died right before my eyes!"

Elizabeth's knuckles turned white gripping the handrail.

She was genuinely terrified of falling.

Not because she feared death—but because she worried her blood might stain the priceless carpet.