The Unmatched Beauty Beneath The Veil Chapter 1

Because of my scars, my brother and my fiancé forbade me from ever taking off my veil.

Every stunning profile shot the media managed to capture of the mysterious pianist was attributed to my sister.

Everyone believed she was the prodigy, the genius behind the alias Luna.

But tonight, I decided to finally take off my veil at the awards ceremony and reveal my true self.

My brother blocked my path.

"Darcy, can you just let your sister accept the award for you? She doesn't have much time left. Her only wish in this life is to stand in the spotlight just once."

A cold chill settled in my chest. This was the fifth year in a row he had used that exact excuse.

I turned to look at my fiancé, hoping for some support.

Instead, he frowned.

"What? You're not willing to do this for her?"

"Kelly's illness is so severe. Why can't you just make her dream come true? You can always explain the truth to the public later."

He handed me a small jewelry box.

"Actually, I was planning to propose to you tonight. If you let your sister have her moment, this ring is yours."

"Darcy, don't be so selfish."

My lips twitched into a bitter smile. I held the tiny, pathetic diamond ring in my palm, remembering the drawer I had accidentally opened in my sister's room two days ago. Inside was a ring identical in design, but ten times the size.

I took a step back.

This time, I was done giving things up.

Hank raised his voice in front of all the backstage staff. "Darcy, say that again?"

I met his gaze.

"I said, I'm going up there to accept my award myself."

Hank took a step forward, towering over me. His finger practically brushed the tip of my nose. "Your sister has one final wish, and you won't even give her that? Darcy, do you have a single shred of decency left in you?"

Kelly rose slowly from her makeup chair. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown, her long hair pinned up in an elegant, intricate bun. She looked like she had spent hours preparing for this very stage.

She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

"Hank, don't press her," she said softly. "It's just my bad luck. I shouldn't have expected so much from life anyway. We all have to leave this world with some regrets."

Her head dropped, her shoulders trembling with quiet, delicate sobs.

Hank's eyes welled with tears of pity. He pulled her into a tight, protective embrace. "Don't talk like that! You are not going to die. I'll find you the best doctors in the world. I'll take you wherever you want to go, and if you want to stand on that stage, I will make sure you do!"

He glared back at me, his eyes full of cold authority. "Darcy, you're young. You'll have plenty of chances to win awards in the future. Does this single night really matter to you? Your sister doesn't have that luxury."

Does this single night really matter?

I had heard that exact line for five long years.

Last year, I fell in love with an antique necklace at an auction. Kelly saw it and said she liked it too.

Without a second thought, Hank took it and clasped it around Kelly's neck.

"Darcy, you look beautiful in anything. Let your sister have this one. She's sick and depressed, let's just make her happy."

When our parents passed away and left me their house, Kelly casually mentioned she wanted to live there.

Hank took my keys and handed them to her on the spot.

"Darcy, Kelly's health is fragile. Living in the old house makes it easier to get to the hospital. Just let her have it. Does it really matter where you sleep?"

For years, every time I yielded, Kelly's illness would miraculously improve for a couple of days. Then, it would take a sudden turn for the worse, repeating the cycle until my next sacrifice.

It was an endless, exhausting drain, squeezing every drop of life out of me.

"Darcy!"

Another voice cut through the air.

Jared, my fiancé, stormed over and grabbed my wrist.

"Have you lost your mind?"

His grip was so tight my bones ached.

"I am perfectly sane," I replied, staring him down.

"Look in a mirror! Have you forgotten what you look like?" He scoffed. "Who else could ever stand looking at a face like yours? If you go out on that stage, are you accepting an award, or are you just trying to humiliate both of us?"

I froze.

He called me ugly. He called me an embarrassment.

But who was the reason my face was scarred in the first place?