Chapter 2: A Father's denial

ENISA'S POV

“You heard me the first time, Enisa. I won’t repeat myself.”

Iris did not so much as lift her gaze from her plate.

For a moment, I found myself unable to speak. The sheer audacity of it left me hollow; then, slowly, something hotter began to rise beneath that silence.

Anger. It coiled in my chest, suffocatingly.

Was it not enough that she had already taken everything from me? Must she strip me of even the last remnants of dignity I possessed?

I had learned to endure her cruelty. I had grown accustomed to it. But hearing it so plainly, so casually spoken, it struck deeper than I cared to admit.

“Well,” Vedica murmured lightly, a thin smile tugging at her lips, “what can we say? My daughter is very generous.”

The bitterness that followed her words settled heavily within me.

With the last fragile thread of hope, I turned to Father.

He said nothing.

No objection. No correction. Not even a glance in my defense.

His silence spoke more clearly than any words ever could. I knew it meant he agreed, and just that thought alone was killing me slowly.

My feelings here didn't matter, and nothing was going to change that, not even the blood that ran through our veins, his blood.

I turned around to leave, my leg feeling weightless, dragging along the tiled floor as I walked.

With the silence still hovering around, standing there just made me feel less of myself.

"Wait,"

The word made me freeze mid-step.

I turned, and my eyes met the sinister gaze of Iris.

Her green eyes gleamed beneath lowered lashes. She lifted a brow, then exhaled as though burdened by the inconvenience of addressing me.

“You are still required to accompany me to the capital,” she said smoothly. “You’ll carry the shopping bags.”

A faint smirk curved her lips.

I held her gaze, something dark flickering behind my eyes.

If looks could kill, she would have long disappeared from existence.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. I forced myself to breathe through the rising heat, swallowing the bile building in my throat.

“Father… have you nothing to say?"

I didn't know when those words escaped my lips defiantly, and I realized it quickly too.

“You speak out of turn, Enisa.”

His voice was calm, too calm.

I lowered my gaze at once.

“She’s grown bold,” Vedica observed softly, her tone almost amused. The elegance of her movements, fork and knife gliding with effortless grace, stood in stark contrast to the cruelty beneath her words.

“I have warned you time and again,” she continued, her voice cool, “to remove her from my sight and this house, but you defile my warnings, so now, reap the harvest of your doings.

“Father…” I tried again, quieter this time, though my voice betrayed me with the slightest tremor. “Do you truly agree with this?”

"I don't see any reason why he shouldn't," Iris said, looking pleased.

“I see no reason why he shouldn’t,” Iris interjected, satisfaction evident in her tone.

My eyes closed briefly, the sting of it settling deep within my chest. When I looked at him again, there was no hope left in my gaze, only something darker, something I did not fully recognize.

Resentment.

Hatred, perhaps, but I knew this much: the word "love" no longer existed. This man who called himself my father, I could no longer see myself as his daughter.

And yet…

I had made a promise.

At my mother’s grave, I had sworn it, over and over again. That I would love him.

That I would remain dutiful, as a loving daughter would to her father; that I would endure.

How does one honor such a vow… when the man before her refuses to see her at all?

I turned away without another word.

By the time I reached my room, the tears I had held back could no longer be contained.

They fell freely, and I struggled to suppress the sobbing when truly I felt like screaming my lungs out.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, shoulders trembling faintly as I lowered my head.

My gaze drifted across the room until it caught on a shard of broken mirror lying near the bed. I reached for it, hesitating only a moment before lifting it.

My reflection stared back at me, tear-streaked, weary… and still, unmistakably mine.

The traces of dried tears did little to dull my features.

My hair fell long and dark, an inheritance from my mother, the only piece of her I still carried openly. And my eyes… bright blue, framed by dark lashes.

Once, Father had said they made me look endearing.

That was before, before Iris and her mother came into our lives when I was just barely five years old.

She gained everything.

And I…

I was left with nothing at all.

The low murmur of voices outside slipped through the walls, pulling me from my thoughts.

I set the shard of mirror aside and rose, smoothing my expression, and then wiped away every trace of tears evident on my face before stepping out of the room.

The sight that greeted me made me pause.

Iris and Vedica were already dressed, adorned in fine dresses and glittering jewelry, and prepared for departure.

They looked every bit the royalty they posed themselves to be.

For a moment, I could only stare.

Judging by the time it must have taken them to dine and dress so elaborately, I realized just how long I had been lost to my grief.

Outside, a car was already packed to convey them.

The chauffeur assigned to drive stood rigidly beside the open door, posture impeccable.

Instinctively, I turned to leave. One step, then another, but just as I was about to take the third….

"Enisa!" Iris called, and a cold sensation ran through my body; her voice was like thorns pricking on my skin.

I froze, inhaling roughly. I turned to look at her, battling to bite back every word that threatened to escape my lips.

"You silly maid, do you think you are that invisible, that you can pass unnoticed?" she said, pouting her lips, and I just stood there staring at her sheepishly.

“Come along; you shall help with the shopping bags.”

She said, and without waiting for a word I had to say, she catwalked towards the Bentley convertible awaiting her arrival.

There were countless maids in the household. Yet she had chosen me.

Of course she had.

This was not convenience; it was display.

For a fleeting, dangerous moment, a thought crossed my mind, sharp and reckless.

The urge to strike her across the cheek, just once, to reclaim even the smallest fragment of dignity.

From behind me Vedica trotted past me, hands clasped gracefully. She paused to look at me with a snide remark before continuing on her way.

I looked to Father.

He gave a small, dismissive nod.

That was all.

My shoulders sank slightly as I forced myself forward, my legs moving on their own accord as I reluctantly walked up to the car, which was packed only a few feet away.

I reached for the rear door—

“Not there.”

Iris’s voice cut in sharply.

“Sit in the front. Beside the driver. I have no desire to look at you.”

I stilled, then withdrew my hand without protest.

“Mother,” she continued with a sigh, “it would have been far more convenient to take a separate car. I would rather not endure her presence for the entire journey.”

“And allow her to be seen traveling in comfort?” Vedica replied coolly. “Certainly not. She comes with us and remains where I can see her.”

Quietly, I moved to the front and took my place beside the driver. The seat felt unfamiliar, rigid beneath me.

Moments later, the car stirred to life, wheels rolling forward as the estate fell away behind us.

I let my gaze drift outward.

The world beyond the mansion unfolded slowly: streets, markets, and distant structures I had never seen before. I took it all in, committing every detail to memory.

It was my first time leaving the estate.

And, perhaps, my last.