Chapter 3 The Last Piece of Her

"We ate it. So what?" my father drawled.

"I had that seafood flown in from Avernon. It must've cost at least $10,000. Yet, you couldn't even leave me a single bite?"

My father looked up sharply before answering in a tone that made it seem as if his reasoning were perfectly sound. "Something that expensive would be wasted on someone like you! Kellan and Damian should eat it instead.

"Damian's a growing boy, and Kellan's spent eight years struggling out there. He needs to eat well now that he's finally home!"

I sneered at his response.

I'd lost count of how many times I'd heard that excuse.

Ever since I was little, Kellan would always get the first pick whenever there was anything good to eat at home.

Once, my aunt brought home a box of pastries from out of town. I'd been craving them, so I ate two before anyone else could.

My father became so furious that he locked me in a dark room and left me there to starve for three days.

"You useless girl! Can't you control your appetite? Those were for Kellan! He works so hard at school. He needs good food to keep his brain sharp. What good would eating something that nice do for someone like you?"

By the time my mother finally carried me out, I was crying despite being barely conscious and on the verge of death.

My father merely sneered when he saw me. "What's with the pitiful act? Three days without food won't kill you. It'd be even better if you actually died."

I dug my fingernails hard into my palms upon recalling that nightmarish memory.

My father pursed his lips, scowling impatiently. "Enough already. Hurry up and clean this mess. Stop standing around and getting in everyone's way! I've got to take Damian out to buy him some toys in a bit."

And so, he and Kellan promptly took Damian out.

I bottled up my anger as I cleaned up the leftovers scattered across the dining table. Then, I installed the cameras I'd bought in the four corners of the house.

…

That evening, they returned with bags full of shopping.

Kellan tossed a ridiculously long receipt at me as soon as they entered the living room.

"Freya, here's the bill for everything we bought Damian today. It comes to $5,800. Look it over, and transfer the money to me if everything checks out."

I kept my voice low, struggling to contain my anger. "Why should I be responsible for supporting your son?"

My father's eyes widened. "Because you're an Ashwood, too! You're obligated to pay for my grandson's needs as long as you carry the Ashwood name!"

I started shaking with rage.

Before I could respond, a sharp crash came from my bedroom. I tensed and rushed toward the sound without thinking.

I froze the second I pushed the door open.

On the floor lay my mother's emerald bracelet, shattered into three pieces. It was the only thing she'd left me before she died.

I'd been too afraid of damaging it to even think of wearing it, even after all these years. So, I'd wrapped it in red cloth and kept it in my drawer, taking it out to look at it whenever I missed her.

Alas, there it lay, broken. The last thing I had left of her was gone.

"Aunt Freya, this green bracelet wasn't any fun. It made such a loud noise when I smashed it!"

Damian tilted his head and looked at me innocently. However, I noticed the barely concealed gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

My eyes reddened as I glared at him, my voice shaking with anger. "Who gave you permission to touch my things?"

Damian flinched at my outburst. His lower lip trembled, and he burst into tears.

My father was the first to rush into the room upon hearing him cry. He didn't even bother asking what had happened as he shoved me hard. "Freya, what did you do to him? Why's he crying like that?"

I fell to the floor, my knee landing on the broken jade. A sharp shard cut into my skin.

"Dad, he smashed Mom's bracelet…"

My father glanced at the fragments on the floor, but his expression didn't change.

"So what if it's broken? It's just some old bracelet. How much could it be worth? You're a grown woman. How can you hold a grudge against a seven-year-old? I promise you, you'll be answering to me if anything happens to Damian because you scared him!"

Kellan wandered in behind him, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He took one look at the mess on the floor and sneered.

"And here I thought something serious had happened. It's just a worthless old bracelet from a dead woman. So what? Good riddance. Maybe now you'll stop treating it like some priceless trinket. Just the sight of it screams bad luck."

I remained kneeling on the floor, carefully clutching the three broken pieces of my mother's bracelet in my hands.

…

That night, I carefully wrapped the shattered bracelet and tucked it beneath my pillow.

I didn't sleep a wink.