She declared it in front of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and even the neighbors who had shown up uninvited. For a heartbeat, the room went silent… then someone laughed. Then another. Within seconds, everyone was laughing – some from awkwardness, some from pure mockery. My cheeks burned with humi:liation.
Clara, sitting beside him, put on a show of surprise.
“I was only trying to help you, sweetheart,” she murmured sweetly.
I could have fought back, explained myself, but something in my father’s eyes – a blend of contempt and satisfaction – pinned me in place. So I simply said:
“Alright.”
It wasn’t surrender. It was my decision, quietly made for myself.
At the first light of dawn, I went down to the kitchen. My father sat there with his usual superior expression, sipping coffee.
“Well, look at you,” he said with a crooked smile. “Have you finally understood your place?”
I said nothing. No reply was needed.
Minutes later, I heard hurried footsteps echoing in the hall, followed by his voice ringing through the house:
“Where are your things? What did you do?”
My room was empty. My suitcase wasn’t – it had stayed behind. I’d only taken essential documents, a few clothes, and my phone. But something else caught my eye: an envelope on his desk. It wasn’t mine.
Then, as if pulled from an entirely different reality, the front door swung open. My lawyer, the one I’d only met twice before, rushed in, breathless as if she had sprinted from her car.
“Sir, what have you done?” she asked, voice trembling.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
