Chapter 3

Then I grabbed the cushions and threw them across the room, followed by the books stacked on my desk. I pulled open drawers and emptied them without thinking, scattering clothes, notebooks, and small personal belongings everywhere.

I didn't even know what I was trying to destroy.

Perhaps I wanted to break something because my heart was already broken. Perhaps I wanted to make the room look as terrible as I felt inside. Or perhaps some foolish part of me believed that if I ruined everything around me, someone would come running through the door and finally understand how much they had hurt me.

But nobody came.

When I could no longer find anything else to throw, I sank to the floor among the scattered belongings and began to cry again.

I cried until my throat hurt, until my eyes burned, and until I had no strength left to keep myself upright. Eventually, I dragged myself onto the bed without changing out of my clothes, curled beneath the blanket, and stared at the ceiling.

My phone was still beside me.

I checked it one last time.

There was no reply from Leander.

I wanted to call him again, but I was too tired to listen to the ringing. Instead, I pulled the blanket over my head and closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would give me a few hours of peace.

It didn't come easily.

Every time I drifted off, I heard Grandpa's voice again, followed by Mom's trembling confession. I remembered Dad looking away when I begged him to deny it, and I kept seeing Uncle Julius sitting silently in that room without once trying to defend me.

By the time exhaustion finally pulled me into a restless sleep, I had cried so much that my face felt swollen, and my pillow was damp beneath my cheek.

Morning came without asking whether I was ready for it.

Pale sunlight slipped through the curtains, falling across the clothes scattered on the floor and the broken arrangement of my belongings. For a few seconds after opening my eyes, I didn't remember what had happened, and I lay still, wondering why my body felt so heavy.

Then everything returned.

I sat up slowly.

My bedroom looked as though someone had searched it in a hurry. Drawers hung open, books lay scattered across the carpet, and the photographs I had thrown onto the floor were spread everywhere. One of the frames had cracked, leaving a thin line across the glass that passed directly over my smiling face.

I stared at it for a long time before looking away.

My eyes felt sore, and my head throbbed from crying through most of the night. When I finally stood and walked toward the mirror, I barely recognized the person staring back at me. My hair was tangled, my cheeks were swollen, and dark circles had formed beneath my red eyes. The girl in the mirror looked exhausted, as though she had spent years fighting a battle she hadn't known existed.

I gripped the edge of the dressing table.

"Get yourself together, Seren," I whispered.

My voice sounded rough.

I splashed cold water over my face and tried to straighten my hair, but I didn't have the strength to do anything more. I couldn't bring myself to change my clothes either, so I simply picked up my phone, slipped it into my pocket, and walked toward the door.

I needed to see my parents.

I needed someone to tell me that there was still a mistake somewhere, that the DNA test could be repeated, and that my entire life hadn't been reduced to a lie overnight.

Even if they had to tell me a hundred times, I wanted to hear that they were still my family.

When I opened the door, the hallway was quiet.

I walked toward the staircase, holding the railing as I descended because my legs felt weak. Usually, the mansion was already awake by that hour, with the housekeepers moving between rooms and the kitchen staff preparing breakfast. I expected to hear someone calling for the driver or asking whether Grandpa had taken his morning medication, but the entire house seemed strangely empty.

I reached the bottom of the staircase and looked toward the living room.

Nobody was there.

The dining table had been cleared, and the front doors were shut. Even the housekeeper who usually stood near the entrance in the mornings was nowhere to be seen.

I turned toward the kitchen, then walked back to the living room, searching for any sign that someone was home.

"Mom?" I called.

My voice sounded small in the empty space.

"Dad?"

Nothing.

I hurried toward the hallway that led to Dad's study, but the door was closed. I stopped in front of it, my heart beginning to pound for reasons I couldn't explain.

Perhaps they had gone out to discuss the DNA results.

Perhaps they had visited the hospital to demand another test.

Perhaps they had found something that proved the whole thing was a mistake.

I reached for the handle, but before I could touch it, I heard footsteps from inside.

The door opened.

Leander stepped out.

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

He was dressed in a dark shirt and trousers, his hair slightly untidy, and his expression was so serious that I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He looked tired, too, but instead of rushing toward me the way he usually did whenever he saw me upset, he remained where he was.

My heart twisted painfully.

"Leander."

His eyes moved over my face, lingering on my swollen eyes and the clothes I had worn the previous day.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

I almost laughed at the question.

"What happened to me?"

My voice cracked, and I looked down, suddenly embarrassed by how terrible I must have appeared.

"I couldn't sleep."

He said nothing.

I took a step toward him.

"Where is everyone?"

"They left early this morning."

I stared at him.

"Left where?"

He hesitated, glancing briefly toward the study behind him before looking back at me.

"They received some information about their biological daughter."

For a moment, the words meant nothing to me.

I stood there, waiting for him to explain, but he didn't.

Then the meaning slowly sank in.

Their biological daughter.

The daughter they believed they had lost eighteen years ago.

The daughter who belonged to them by blood.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I shook my head.

"No."

Leander's expression tightened.

"Seren—"

"No, they wouldn't."

I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into his sleeve as I searched his face for some sign that he was about to tell me he had been joking.

"They wouldn't leave without telling me."

He looked away.

My grip loosened.

"Where did they go?"

"They went to meet her."

I stared at him.

"Her?"

He nodded once.

"They got information about where she might be, so they went to find out if it was really her."

The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

I took a shaky breath, trying to force air into my lungs, but my chest felt too tight.

"They went to find her?"

Leander didn't answer.

I looked toward the front doors, imagining Mom and Dad getting into their car that morning, perhaps talking excitedly about the daughter they had never known. I imagined Grandpa sitting beside them, determined to bring the missing piece of his family home, and Uncle Julius following behind because this was apparently important enough for everyone to leave the mansion before I had even woken up.

Not one of them had come to my room.

Not one of them had knocked on my door to tell me they were leaving.

They had simply gone.

While I spent the entire night crying over the family I was terrified of losing, they had gone searching for the daughter they wanted back.

I looked at Leander, desperately hoping he would tell me there was something I had misunderstood.

"Did they say when they would return?"

He remained silent for a moment before answering.

"I don't know."

My fingers slipped from his arm.

I took a step backward, but my legs suddenly felt too weak to support me.

"No..."

The word escaped me as I reached for the edge of the nearby table, missing it completely.

Leander moved forward.

"Seren!"

But I was already falling.

My knees struck the floor, and a sharp pain shot through my legs, yet I barely felt it. I stared at the empty living room, my hands trembling against the carpet as tears blurred everything in front of me.

They had gone to find their real daughter.

And I was still here, in the house I had called home for eighteen years, wondering whether there was any place left in the world where I belonged.

Leander crouched beside me and reached for my shoulder.

"Seren, look at me."

I shook my head, unable to stop crying.

"Why didn't they wake me up?"

He didn't answer.

"Why didn't Mom come to tell me goodbye?"

His hand rested against my shoulder, but I could barely feel it.

"Leander, what am I supposed to do now?"

My voice broke into a sob, and I pressed both hands against my mouth, trying to hold myself together when there was nothing left inside me to hold on to.

I had spent eighteen years believing that I was loved, that I was safe, and that no matter what happened outside those walls, I would always have a family waiting for me at home.

Now, I wasn't even certain they wanted me there.

I turned toward Leander, the one person I had always believed would never abandon me, and clutched his hand as if he were the last piece of my old life I could still reach.

"Please don't leave me too," I whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes, something I couldn't understand.

He looked down at our joined hands, then back at my face, but he didn't give me the answer I desperately needed.