CHAPTER TWO: Dinner with my grandfather

Grandfather poured tea into my cup, the faint frown still lingered on his face.

“What changed your mind?” he asked.

I took his hand, looked into his eyes, and said, “I feel safe with you, Papa.”

It was a half-truth.

I am safe here—but for how long?

I am still fifteen.

Still a child.

Still smiling.

But not for long.

I remembered when the rivalry began. Around this time. Lucinda—my stepsister— fifteen as well, and my stepmother, Selena, was already pushing her toward the light, making sure her daughter was seen.

The first rule of standing at the top is simple: be known by the people who matter.

Selena knew that.

If my memory serves me right, Lucinda would write to me soon. They wanted to know if I was a threat. If I was a competition.

Two days later, the letter arrived.

The envelope was soft pink, expensive to the touch. My name was written neatly, carefully—like she practiced.

Big Sister Seraphina,

Mama said I should write to you since you’re back in town.

I hope you’re doing well. Are you eating properly?

Mama says families shouldn’t drift apart.

She also says you’re very lucky to have Grandfather all to yourself.

Maybe we can have tea someday. I’d really like that.

Love,

Lucinda

I closed my eyes.

She sounded exactly as she did back then.

Sweet. Thoughtful. Concerned.

And already counting what she believed I was taking from her.

I debated replying for a while. Then, after two days, I answered carefully.

Lucinda,

Thank you for the letter. I’m doing fine.

Grandfather has always taken care of me.

I hope you’re well too.

Seraphina.

No invitation.

No rejection.

For a brief moment, I wondered if that would be enough to make her lose interest.

It isn’t.

Her reply arrives almost immediately.

Big Sister,

Mama says Grandfather is kind but old-fashioned.

She says he lets emotions get in the way of what’s fair.

I don’t really understand adults, but Mama says everything should be balanced.

I think she means shared.

You’ve had him for so long. Isn’t it my turn too?

Lucinda

My fingers tightened around the paper.

Selena’s whispers had already taken root. I can almost hear the quiet calculations forming in Lucinda’s mind—what she needed to take, what she believed she was owed.

But one thing is certain.

Lucinda doesn’t remember the fire.

She doesn’t remember locking the door.

She doesn’t remember watching the smoke rise.

She doesn’t remember my screams—or my death.

Because in this life, she hasn’t done it yet.

She was not a murderer.

She was just a girl raised on whispers.

If someone has more than you, it means they stole it.

If you want something badly enough, you deserve it.

And her mother was very good at turning envy into entitlement.

Lucinda wasn’t a monster.

She was a seed.

And seeds grow exactly the way they are planted.

That night, I sat at my desk and reread her letters, one after the other.

If I confronted her now, she would cry.

If I accused her, the adults would scold me.

If I spoke of rebirth, I would sound insane.

So I choose patience.

I would let her believe I was harmless.

Let her think I was merely lucky.

Let her believe I don’t see her reach for what is mine.

e cost of greed—

I would be strong enough to survive it.

I folded Lucinda’s letters and placed them back into the drawer.

For now, words are enough.

The real test would come when we share the same air.

The next morning, as I was  leaving for my morning walk,my phone vibrated.

Unknown Number

Seraphina Vale has been officially transferred to St. Elara Academy. Final year placement confirmed.

I stared at the screen.

St. Elara Academy.

Lucinda’s school.

I slipped the phone into my pocket, my expression calm even as something cold settled in my chest.

So this is how it began.

Not with fire.

But with a classroom, a desk, and a girl who believes everything should belong to her.