Chapter 3

I followed my mother into the sitting room.

The space was exactly as polished as the rest of the mansion. Black berry-coloured sofas sat untouched beneath expensive abstract paintings, while fresh flowers brightened every corner without making the room feel any warmer. It looked like something from the cover of a luxury magazine rather than a place where people actually lived.

She lowered herself gracefully onto one of the sofas as if she’d practised the movement a thousand times.

I chose the one opposite her, sitting on the very edge of the cushion. Old habits died hard. A part of me will always want a clear path to the nearest exit.

“You’ve lost weight,” she said after studying me with the same detached expression a doctor might use while examining a patient. “Are you eating enough?”

“Yes.”

“And your medication?” Her tone sharpened immediately. “You’ve been taking it exactly as prescribed?”

“Twice a day.” My hand instinctively rested against my purse. “I haven’t missed a dose.”

“Show me,” she said

I blinked.“What?”

“The medication.”She extended her hand.“Let me see it.”

Heat crept into my face, but I reached into my purse anyway and pulled out the orange prescription bottle.

She took it without another word.

Her eyes scanned the label before she gently shook it beside her ear, listening to the tablets rattle inside. I knew what she was doing. Counting.

Making sure I hadn’t skipped doses.

Seconds later, she finally returned it.

“Good,” she remarked.

I slipped it back into my purse.

“You cannot afford to become careless, Sylvia.” Her voice softened slightly, but only enough to make the warning sound more serious. “I can't have you collapsing in this house.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Do you?” she pressed as she rises from the sofa and walked toward the tall windows overlooking the gardens, folding one arm across her waist while the other rested lightly against the window glass.

“This isn’t like going to school overseas,” she said quietly. “Things are different here. People are watching. There are expectations. Standards.” She hesitated briefly before continuing. “Marcus has a reputation to protect.”

She turned back to face me.“So do yourself a favour. Keep your head down and don’t give people a reason to notice you.”

The words settled over me and it was as if she draped me in a dirty old blanket that I’d never wanted.

I’d been hearing them for years.

Long before she sent me away.

Long before she convinced herself it was for my own good.

“Then why ask me to come back?” I asked.

For the first time, something unreadable flickered across her face before disappearing.“This is your home.”

I looked around the perfectly decorated room.“Is it?”

Her jaw tightened.“Don’t start being difficult. Your old room has been prepared. It’s on the second floor, the third room to the right, I believe... I don't exactly keep track of every room we have.”

And just like that the conversation was already over as far as she was concerned.

She starts heading towards the doorway without another glance in my direction and stopped only long enough to add one final instruction.“We’re having a welcome dinner tonight at eight.”

Her eyes met mine briefly.“Family only.”

Then she walked away.“And don’t be late.”

“Mom…” I tried to mutter but the word barely left my lips before the sharp click of her heels echoed down the marble hallway and she never turned around.

I remained where I was long after my mother disappeared down the hallway.

The room around me was silent, immaculate, and strangely lifeless.

The weight of the contents inside my purse suddenly felt heavier than it should.

Then A soft knock broke the silence. I looked toward the doorway as Edmund appeared with my room key in one hand and my luggage in the other.

“If you’re ready, Miss Sylvia,” he said with his usual gentle smile, “I’ll take you to your room.”

I nodded and followed him out of the sitting room.

We walked through corridors that stirred fragments of old memories. Portraits lined the walls exactly where I remembered them, while polished wooden doors hid rooms I’d never been allowed to enter as a child. Nothing looked different. And it was as though time had stopped the day I left.

We climbed one sweeping flight of stairs, Edmund setting an easy pace despite carrying my suitcase. My body kept up without much effort, but my thoughts refused to slow down because even though I’d only spent a few years away, somehow everything felt exactly the same.

I was still the outsider. Still the fragile girl everyone tiptoed around. Still the burden no one wanted to acknowledge.

Edmund finally stopped outside a bedroom at the very end of the hallway wing.

He opened the door before stepping aside.

“There we go.”He carried my suitcase inside and placed it carefully beside the wardrobe before turning back to me.

“Dinner will be served at eight in the main dining room,” he reminded me politely. “Would you like me to send someone to remind you when it’s time?”

I offered him a small smile.“No, thank you, Edmund. I’ll find my own way.”

“No problem, Miss.”

He inclined his head respectfully before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind him with barely a sound.

Only after I heard his footsteps disappear did I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

I leaned against the closed door.

Not because I needed something to keep me standing.

But because I needed something between myself and the rest of this house.

My eyes slowly wandered around the bedroom.

Everything looked perfect. Fresh flowers rested on the dresser. New blinds framed the windows.

The bedding was so neatly arranged it looked as though no one had ever slept in it.

It was beautiful. It was expensive but it wasn’t me.

There wasn’t a single photograph. Not one childhood book.Not a stuffed animal.Not even a forgotten scratch on the furniture to prove I’d ever lived here.

It was as if someone had carefully erased every trace of the little girl who once called this room her own.

I crossed to the window and rested my hand against the cool glass.

Below, the gardens stretched endlessly across the estate. Rose bushes bloomed in perfect rows, hedges had been sculpted into flawless shapes, and beyond them the forest surrounded the territory like a protective wall.

All of a sudden, my watch started vibrating against my wrist.

DINNER TIME: 8:00 PM

I stared at the notification for several seconds before giving a quiet laugh that held no amusement.

Dinner time right time to meet the rest of the family.

After taking off my shoes, I headed toward the room's bathroom immediately I walked in Cool marble met my bare feet, and the spotless room reflected the same cold perfection as the rest of the mansion.

As I turned on the shower it washed away the exhaustion of travelling, but it couldn’t wash away the knot that had settled in my chest.

A few minutes later, wrapped in a thick towel softer than any I’d ever owned, I returned to the bedroom. Most of the clothes inside my suitcase were creased from the journey, but sorting through them could wait. There was something far more important buried beneath the layers. Kneeling on the floor, I carefully shifted the folded shirts aside until my fingers brushed against the cool edge of a wooden picture frame.

Relief loosened something inside me.

I lifted it out as gently as if it were made of glass. Because, in a way, it was.

The frame had taken a hit.

One corner was chipped, and a thin crack stretched across the glass where the guard had slammed my suitcase onto the pavement like it was garbage. My stomach twisted at the memory, but after turning it over in my hands, I let out a slow breath.