Redemption of a Pawn

On New Year's Day, clutching the jade pendant Hugo Quinn gave me, my steps felt sweet and light. As I turned the corner of the alley, someone suddenly covered my mouth and dragged me into the shadows. A rough burlap sack was thrown over me, and the world instantly slipped into a suffocating black silence. Before I lost consciousness, all I could hear was heavy breathing and fabric tearing, the jade pendant breaking in two as I struggled. When I woke up again, I was in my own bed, my mother with red-rimmed eyes gently wiping my face, carefully avoiding the terrible bruises on my body. "Stella, don't be afraid. Mom's here." Her hands were trembling, but she forced her voice to stay steady. I parted my lips, but it felt like my throat was stuffed with burning sand—I couldn't get a single word out. When Hugo Quinn appeared in the doorway, a flicker of light suddenly ignited in my eyes, only to be quickly snuffed out under his cold gaze. "Stella Scott," he said, holding that broken shard of jade, his tone completely devoid of warmth, "our engagement is off." "Why?" I finally squeezed out a hoarse voice that hardly sounded like my own. "You're not worthy of the Quinn Family." He turned and walked away, the hem of his white shirt brushing the doorstep like a sharp, final slash. Rumors crashed over me like a tide; neighbors whispered behind my back, relatives avoided my gaze, trapping me in an invisible prison. It was then that Bruce Green appeared. He was the CEO of the Green Group, the man countless socialites in the city vied for. He sat on my living room sofa, straight-backed, his gaze fixed on me with a complicated expression I couldn't quite decipher. "Ms. Scott," he said, first turning to my mother with a respectful tone, "I want to marry Stella." I jerked my head up, locking eyes with his deep, intense gaze. "What did you say?" "I said I want to marry you." He repeated, his fingertips drumming lightly on his knee, "I know everything about you, and I don't care." Mom was overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down her face as she grabbed my hand and nodded repeatedly. In that kind of despair, Bruce Green's proposal was a lifeline. The wedding was rushed, with no crowd of guests—just a handful of distant relatives from the Green family. On our wedding night, Bruce Green slept in the guest room. I sat alone in the empty master bedroom, staring at the bright red 'double happiness' character on the wall, my heart twisting with a bitter, aching sorrow. Life after the wedding was painfully quiet. Bruce treated me with the cold politeness he reserved for strangers—never touching me, rarely spending the night at home. Until the day I came home early, hoping to surprise him. The study door was slightly ajar, and from inside came a gentle voice I'd never heard before—soft and tender. "Stacy, just wait a little longer. Soon, I'll be able to be with you openly and proudly." Stacy Scott, my cousin, the girl who always sweetly called me 'sister.' It felt like the blood in my veins had frozen; my hand shook uncontrollably as I pushed open the door. When Bruce Green saw me, the warmth in his face vanished instantly, returning to his usual cold indifference. "Why are you back?" "What did you mean by that just now?" My voice trembled as I locked eyes with him. He didn't deny it. Instead, he walked over to the window, turning his back on me. "I'm marrying you to put Stacy's mind at ease." "So, I'm just a substitute?" Those words stabbed into my heart, still fragile from the wounds I was just beginning to heal. "Yes." His answer was sharp and unequivocal, without a single trace of hesitation. That night, I sat in the guest room all night; the moonlight outside was cold as frost, falling onto my empty palm.