Chapter 4

The knife in my father's hand froze mid-air.

The tears on Stella's face froze.

Even her sobs got stuck in her throat.

My mother was the first to recover.

She walked over, her eyes red, and reached down to help me up.

"Amelia, it was all a misunderstanding. See? The necklace is found. It's okay now."

A misunderstanding.

Two words to erase years of my work, to destroy my only hope of escape.

I saw her hand and pulled away.

I pushed myself up from the floor.

My clothes stained with paint and wine.

My knees were numb, but I stood up straight.

My father tossed the knife on a table.

No guilt on his face.

No apology.

Just the embarrassment of being exposed by the butler.

And the anger of being defied by me.

He adjusted his cuffs.

His voice was stiff.

"Since it's found, the matter is closed. Stella didn't mean it. It was an honest mistake."

I looked at the shredded canvases on the floor.

At the smeared mess of my sunset coast.

I turned to face him.

"Closed? What about my paintings? What about my future?"

I pointed at the wreckage.

My voice was soft.

"Who's going to pay for this?"

At my question, Stella dropped to her knees.

She bit her lip, and fresh tears started to flow.

She cried pitifully, her shoulders shaking.

"Amelia, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to. I just threw it in my suitcase and forgot... Can you forgive me?"

I walked over and grabbed her wrist.

"Why? You already have everything. Why do you have to corner me like this?"

Stella cried out in pain.

She winced, pulling back.

"Dad... it hurts..."

My father's eyes went red.

He rushed over and shoved me hard.

"Enough!"

I lost my balance, stumbling backward.

My back hitting a broken easel.

A sharp piece of wood tore through my dress, digging into my skin.

A sharp, piercing pain.

My father shielded Stella, pointing his finger in my face.

"It's just a few paintings! Are you done with this drama?"

His face was full of disgust, like I was some hysterical maniac.

"They're ruined? Paint more! Do you have to keep attacking your sister? Are you willing to destroy this family's dignity over something so small?"

Just a few paintings.

Paint more.

I leaned against the broken frame, staring at this man.

He had no idea what these paintings meant to me.

He didn't care.

In this family, my life's work was trash.

My future was a joke.

All it took was one of Stella's tears.

And my entire life could be thrown away to make her feel better.

The pain in my back slowly went numb.

The last bit of warmth in my heart went with it.

I didn't cry.

I didn't scream.

I looked up, my gaze sweeping calmly over each of them.

My furious father.

My placating mother.

My sister hiding behind them, playing the victim.

I brushed the wood splinters off my dress.

I stood up straight.

My voice was steady.

Not a ripple of emotion.

"Father. Mother."

They stared, stunned.

Maybe it had been too long since I'd spoken to them like this.

"I'm done. I am no longer a Stewart."

With that, I turned and walked towards the door.

The room was silent for two seconds.

Then an angry roar exploded.

"You ungrateful bitch!"

My father grabbed a wine glass from the table and threw it at my feet.

Shards of glass flew up, cutting my leg.

I didn't stop.

He bellowed behind me, the sound deafening.

"You dare walk out that door! Take one more step, and I'll disown you! I'll cut off all your cards! Freeze your accounts!"

That was his power.

He thought I couldn't survive without the Stewart family name, without his money.

He thought I'd turn back, just like always, and get on my knees to beg his forgiveness.

I stepped over the broken glass and reached the doorway.

I didn't look back.

I just spoke the word.

"Fine."

I walked out of the room.

And step by step, out of the mansion.

No one stopped me.

The night air hit my face.

It was cool, but it cleared the toxic air from my lungs.

I took a deep breath.

Outside the main gate, a plain black car was already waiting.

The car Isla arranged for me, ahead of schedule.

I walked down the steps, opened the back door, and got in.

The door shut, sealing out every sound from the mansion.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

My dress was stained with wine.

My leg was bleeding.

He didn't ask a single question.

He just spoke in a low, respectful voice.

"Miss Amelia? Miss Isla sent me."

I nodded at the mirror.

My voice was firm.

"It's me. Let's go."

The car started moving.

I leaned back against the seat.

Watching the prison that had held me for twenty years shrink in the distance.

This life, with them, was over.