Chapter 4

Back at the estate, the hallway was full of Diana's things. A pink ribbon hung from the side of a box. Scented candles had rolled into the corner. A picture frame sat on the floor, with Pierce's stiff face reflected in the glass.

Pierce saw me and pulled off his white gloves immediately. "Ms. Hart, Mrs. Warren says the room change is off for now. Diana isn't stable."

"I know."

That threw him. "You aren't going to ask why?"

I pushed open the door to my room.

The plate on it still said Guest Room Three.

A dress with the tag still on hung in the closet, a full size too small around the waist. My mother had bought it in Diana's size, but Diana hadn't liked it, so it had been palmed off on me. On the desk sat a commemorative game cap Lucas didn't want, his name stitched on the brim. In the drawer was a box of sleeping pills from Noah. I'm allergic to one of the ingredients, so I never took a single one.

The only things I packed in the suitcase were my documents, my laptop, and the old photo album my foster grandmother had left me.

Three years ago, I walked into the Warren estate carrying that same suitcase. Three years later, I still couldn't fill it.

Pierce followed me to the door and asked where I was going.

"Out."

I smiled and put the key card in his hand. "You can tell them the guest room is free."

His expression shifted. "This is not a guest room."

I pointed at the door plate, then at the closet and the desk. "The plate isn't mine. The clothes aren't mine. Nothing on that desk is mine. Which part of it looks like my room to you?"

A car pulled up outside.

My parents and all three of my brothers came in, with Diana walking between them. She had a lot more color than she'd had that morning.

She stopped walking when she saw my suitcase.

"Where are you going? Are you moving out?"

My mother hurried over and put a hand on the suitcase. "Why are you moving out? Is it because no one went with you to handle the paperwork today?"

I looked at the people behind her. My father stood under the hall light, his tie loosened. Ethan still had the car keys in his hand. Noah's cuff was wet. Lucas stood with his arms crossed, tapping his toe against the floor.

I let out a breath and went through it point by point. "It's not just today. At the homecoming dinner, she took my seat, and all of you went after her. Grandmother's necklace went to her because she was sick. I didn't get my room because she was used to living in it. The registration didn't happen because all of you walked out together again."

I paused. "And three years of birthdays and family portraits. Every single time there was a reason none of you could be there. Do you actually think of me as family?"

The entryway went completely silent.

My mother took her hand off the suitcase handle.

Ethan moved to the door and blocked it. "If you want the room, it's yours. I'll have Diana give the necklace back. Put the suitcase down, and let's sit down and talk."

I looked at him. "When I asked yesterday, why didn't I get it?"

Ethan swallowed. His gaze dropped from my face to the suitcase.

Nobody answered.

I answered for him. "Because yesterday I hadn't left yet."

My father came over and took the withdrawal receipt from my hand.

"Sylvia, you're twenty-three years old. Don't threaten your parents by running away from home."

I took the receipt back. "It's not a threat. I'm letting you know. I've withdrawn my registration as a beneficiary of the Warren family trust, and I'm not changing my name."

Lucas gave a thin smile. "You think it's easy out there? Rent, utilities, insurance. Which one of those is free?"

I pulled the suitcase closer.

"I've been paying all of it myself since I was eighteen. I'll manage without you just as I did before."

The smile vanished from his face.

Diana came over and took hold of my sleeve. Her cold fingers trembled against my wrist. "Don't do this to the family because of me. Whatever you want, I'll give it back."

I looked down at her hand, decided arguing wasn't worth it, and wheeled the suitcase around my mother and Diana.

The door had barely opened when my father's phone rang.

The lawyer's voice carried through the phone. "Sir, we've just found a consulting fee of one hundred eighty thousand dollars paid out by the foundation. It bears Sylvia Warren's signature."

I pressed my lips together. "I have never signed a single Warren document. That money isn't mine."

My father held the phone and said nothing. His gaze cut into me like a knife.

I stood in that doorway more certain than I had ever been of anything. I was never coming back to this house.