The sun beams through Catherine’s window, spilling golden light across her room. It paints the walls with warmth, catching on the paintings she loves — nature, life, moments frozen in color. Her favorite is a tender scene of a mother nursing her child. She lingers there, tracing the image with her eyes, feeling the ache of a love she never knew. Her mother died moments after giving birth to her, leaving a hole Catherine has carried ever since. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She blinks them away, determined not to fall apart.

Her stomach grumbles. Catherine rushes to the kitchen, eager for a quick breakfast. Halfway there, she collides with her stepmother.

“Catherine!” Rosalina snaps, her voice sharp, eyes blazing. The spill of Catherine’s beverage has earned her wrath.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Catherine says, suppressing a smile that threatens to escape.

“What’s so good about it?” Roselina roars, frowning as if waging a private war with the world.

Catherine can’t help it — laughter bursts free. She chokes it back, but not fast enough. Roselina’s hand comes down hard, leaving a sting across Catherine’s cheek. She bites her lip, holding back tears. She swears she’ll never let this woman see her weakness.

“Am I amusing to you, miss?” Rosalina hisses, satisfied with the mark on Catherine’s face.

Catherine lifts her chin, defiance lighting her blue eyes. “I find it entertaining to watch my stepmother look like a fool.”

A vein twitches on Roselina’s temple. Her fists clench. Blood races, muscles tense. She’s barely holding herself together.

Catherine steps aside, letting Rosalina storm past. She exhales, shaking her head. She shouldn’t have laughed — but the woman’s messy hair, crooked makeup, and constant scowl make her seem ridiculous. Catherine straightens her uniform and smooths her hair. She is a portrait of calm beauty: slender, poised, with elegant curves, high cheekbones, long lashes, and piercing blue eyes that hold a quiet mystery. Her strawberry lips curve into a subtle smile, as if daring the world to unravel her secrets. She is her mother’s mirror, except for the eye color — her mother’s were green, feline-like, hauntingly beautiful.

Catherine remembers when she was six. Her father, Noble Dantes, sat across from her, his eyes wet with grief for a love lost too soon.

“Papa, why are you crying?” little Catherine asked, reaching to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Daddy’s fine, sweetheart,” he said, scooping her into his lap. She shook her head. “Grannie says tears are a comfort for the heart.”

“Daddy’s lying. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” she said gently, patting his back. Noble smiled at her wisdom, too mature for her age.

“Catherine… would you like another mother?” he asked quietly. She froze, eyes wide.

“Are you insane?” she whispered, incredulous.

“No, I mean a stepmother. Someone to love you, so you won’t feel the absence of your mother,” he faltered.

Catherine shook her head. “I don’t need anyone to pretend to be my mom.”

Noble sighed, realizing his little girl was already independent, stubborn, and strong. He left her room, head heavy with regret, heart full of longing.

Two weeks later, Rosalina arrived. Tall, confident, and impeccably dressed in black, heels clicking against the floor, a choker necklace glinting against her neck. She carried a silver clutch that caught the light with every step. Her makeup was subtle but perfect, lips painted red, eyes framed with smoky shadow. Catherine sized her up and immediately knew: this was the stepmother her father had chosen.

“Hello, I’m Catherine,” she said, eyes blazing. “I suppose you’re my new mother? Well… I don’t need another mother, and you’re not invited here.” She spun and ran to her room, leaving Rosalina and Noble stunned.

Anger flared in her chest, yet beneath it, a whisper of sorrow. She had no interest in sharing her father with anyone else. “I don’t need her,” she whispered to herself, clutching her favorite blanket.

The next morning, she called her grandparents. “I’ll stay with you,” she told them. She couldn’t bear to see Rosalina, who had stolen her father’s attention. Even as she packed, her father said nothing to stop her, a faint smile in his eyes she didn’t understand.

Catherine wiped her eyes and hurried to get ready for school. “I’m late!” she gasped, heart racing. She dashed toward the bathroom for a quick shower, not realizing Ethan — her closest friend and school companion — would arrive any second.