Out of Shadow SCity , Outside the Mental Hospital

“Madam, she’s out,” the middle-aged man whispered respectfully.

Anita lifted her chin, her gaze falling on the girl stepping through the hospital gates.

Three years.

The frail, yellow-haired girl she’d once thrown into the asylum had transformed into a young woman with striking grace. Sunlight fell across her delicate features, illuminating a beauty that reminded Anita of someone else—someone she hated.

Her expression twisted at the memory. She dug her fingernails into her palm, hard enough to sting.

The girl muttered something softly, but her eyes were distant, unfocused. She dared not speak loudly, nor resist.

“Madam, perhaps we should continue in the car,” the man suggested, eyeing the time nervously.

Without another word, Anita grabbed Charlotte’s wrist and shoved her into the vehicle. Her voice was cold and direct.

“Charlotte, I got you out of that hellhole, but you’d better remember—step out of line, and I’ll send you back without blinking. You’ll never see sunlight again. Understand?”

Charlotte’s eyes lit up at the words “out of the mental hospital.” Her hands trembled as she grasped Anita’s arm in gratitude, like a puppy begging for affection.

But the next second, Anita pushed her away with a snarl. “Touch me again and I’ll break your legs.”

Charlotte shrank back, nodding. She turned her gaze to the window, dazed again.

The car sped off toward the Dakota residence.

Dakota Estate

“You want her to be the replacement?” Dakota Hurley frowned, staring at Charlotte with thinly veiled contempt. “You mean this mute lunatic?”

He was her biological father. But in his eyes, she was just a burden.

Anita crossed her arms. “The Conley family is no joke. Do you want our real daughter marrying a dying man?”

Dakota Charles frowned. “But what if they find out—?”

“What? That we gave them a substitute?” Anita snapped. “It’s not like she can talk. Just nod and smile—who’s going to question a mute?”

She glanced at Charlotte, who sat quietly, her expression vacant.

“Either your mute daughter becomes a widow, or we take the Conley family’s dowry and rise on our own. You choose.”

Dakota Benny tugged her father’s sleeve, pouting sweetly. “Daddy, you love me most. Would you really make me waste my life on a dying man? Charlotte should be grateful we even brought her back.”

Before Dakota Hurley could respond, Cynthia knelt beside Charlotte and cooed, “Sister, would you rather stay in the mental hospital or get married? If it’s the latter, nod for us, okay?”

Charlotte blinked, smiled widely, and clapped her hands—just like she always did when someone said she didn’t have to go back to the hospital.

“That’s a yes,” Anita said indifferently. “Take her to get changed.”

Two maids appeared and escorted Charlotte upstairs.

The moment her back turned, Charlotte’s blank eyes sharpened. A sly smile touched her lips. After three years, she was finally out—and the Dakotas had brought her home themselves.

Wedding Day

Charlotte sat in front of the mirror, wrapped in a traditional red wedding dress. Her delicate features were highlighted by light makeup, her eyes gleaming with something hidden—something dangerous.

“She’s so pitiful,” whispered one maid. “Madam Anita sent her to the mental hospital just after her mother died. And now, they drag her out only to marry her off like this…”

“Shh!” another maid hissed. “Don’t let her hear you. Poor thing—no wedding, no music, just a ride to the Conley family like she’s livestock.”Charlotte’s hands tightened in her lap.

Three years ago, her mother had died suddenly. A month later, Anita married into the family. Shortly after, Charlotte’s mind had supposedly snapped, and she was sent away.

No one had visited her. Except Dakota Charles—too often, and never for good reasons.

Charlotte had pieced it together slowly. Anita had orchestrated everything. Her mother’s death. Her father’s indifference. Even her commitment to the asylum.

So she survived the only way she could: she played dumb, silent, and obedient.

Until today.

She was getting married—but more importantly, she was free.

The Conley Estate

There were no firecrackers. No red carpet. Just silence.

Charlotte was ushered inside, her vision obscured by a red veil.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her wrist—ice cold.

A man’s breath rasped close to her ear.

Was this Conley Crack?

A violent cough erupted beside her.

“It’s time for the ceremony! Hurry!” someone called urgently.

More coughing.

Then chaos.

“Master Conley! He’s collapsing!”

Gasps and shouts filled the air. In the confusion, Charlotte lifted her veil and saw the man—her groom—fall to the ground.

Without thinking, she dropped to her knees beside him.

With practiced ease, she took his pulse and slipped a silver needle from her sleeve. One swift motion—insert, twist, pull.

Conley’s breathing steadied.

She gently propped him up.

His eyes snapped open—dark, sharp, and piercing.

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat.

Before she could move, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. His voice was low, hoarse, but powerful.

“ Who are you?”