Chapter 3

Early the next morning, I stepped out of my room to find the living room overwhelmed with betrothal gifts delivered by the Fergusons.

Velvet jewelry cases, heavy chests of wedding gifts, and right at the center sat a bespoke haute couture wedding gown, its immaculate train cascading across the floor like a wave.

I halted at the landing, my footsteps freezing mid-stride.

Back when I was twelve, my classmates had cornered me in the restroom and mocked me because of my difference. They mimicked my dazed, vacant stares, forcing me to write down that I was a "little deaf dummy" before they'd let me go home.

Later, through stifled tears, I pleaded with Mom to get me a discreet, higher-end hearing aid.

She continued leafing through the stack of household bills, dismissing my agony with not much care. “Just make do with the one you have. I’m sure you can hear well enough with that.”

So I endured school wearing that bargain-bin device, struggling to decipher lectures during class, not daring to complain another word.

This single wedding gown tailored for Mia could have purchased years of clarity for me.

Averting my gaze, I turned and headed out, my aimless steps eventually leading me back to the private swimming club from twelve years ago.

The exterior was covered with scaffolding for renovations. A man sat near the entrance, puffing on a cigarette. The instant his eyes met mine, all color drained from his face.

“Elaine? What on earth brings you here?”

I stepped forward and demanded, “How did I almost drown back then?”

His gaze flickered evasively. “Didn’t we talk about this years ago? You had a leg cramp.”

I withdrew a thick stack of cash from my bag and slapped it down between us.

“I’m here shopping for the truth.”

He fixated on the bills, his fingers trembling slightly. After an agonizing silence, he spat out a curse, stood up, and signaled me to follow him into the duty room.

Locking the door behind us, he rummaged through a rusted cabinet and pulled out an obsolete smartphone before loading a grainy video file.

“I never intended to keep this, but my conscience hasn’t granted me a peaceful night’s sleep in over a decade.”

The footage was blurry, capturing Mia and me tumbling into the water together near the edge.

I secured the lifebuoy first.

The very next breath, Mia reached out and ripped it from my grasp.

Before I could process the act, her foot slammed down on my shoulder, shoving me deep into the water.

I thrashed and struggled, trying hopelessly to reach the surface.

Hugging the lifebuoy, she scrambled onto the pool deck. She didn’t call for help. Instead she just stood there, watching me sink into the depths.

The water swallowed me, then the video dissolved into chaos.

I watched the entire thing, a numbing frost slowly seeping into my fingertips.

Mr. Jones, my swim coach back then, kept his head bowed low. “I did hand that clip to your parents. I assumed they’d involve the police. Instead, the very next morning, they handed me half a million.”

“In return they wanted me to stick to their script—to tell the world you almost drowned from a sudden muscle cramp.”

So losing my hearing was never a tragic accident.

It turned out that years of ringing ears, cruel mockery, and agonizing isolation weren’t a twist of bad luck. Someone set their mind to kick me down into the abyss.

Worse, my parents, my brothers, and Brian—they all knew.

They stood by and allowed my perpetrator to trample over my life while continuing her reign as a spoiled little princess.

Mr. Jones murmured in a guilt-ridden whisper, “Elaine, I am so sorry.”

I closed the video, copied the file to my phone and backed it up to my cloud drive.

As I stepped out of the club, the wind lashed against my cheek, but I was too numb to feel pain.

When I got home, the household remained abuzz with activity.

Mom was reviewing the party menus.

Dad was on the phone, chuckling into the receiver, “The engagement party is next month. You must be there!”

Ethan was strumming a melody, composing for the occasion.

And Samuel was revising the guest list.

Mia was in her exquisite gown, twirling around before the mirror.

Brian crouched behind her, carefully gathering the heavy folds of her train.

I glided right past them, but not a single eye glanced my way.

Entering my room, I bolted the door and flipped open my laptop.

I made more copies of the footage, splitting them between a few cloud storages and flash drives.

Any lingering thread of affection for my so-called family was shattered by now.

It was time to burn bridges.

“Elaine, open up, dear. We’re bringing you dinner.” Mom’s gentle voice came from outside.

I glanced at the clock: six in the evening.

Unlocking the door, I found my parents and three brothers lined up outside with trays of food and practiced smiles plastered across their faces.

The table inside was quickly laden with every dish I used to love: glazed baby back ribs, herb-crusted salmon, wild mushroom bisque, and a steaming bowl of creamy clam chowder.