"Stop!" I screamed, rushing forward.Sophia's mother, Elena Ricci, turned around slowly.She wore the smile of a predator that had just claimed its territory. "Isabella, you're back. Damien invited me to help redecorate. He said Sophia prefers a brighter style."My eyes swept across the living room, and my heart sank.My prized 16th-century tapestries were ripped down, tossed on the floor.In their place hung a cheap print of a giant pink rose.My collection of rare classical vinyl records was shoved into a cardboard box.Next to it was a tacky, rhinestone-covered Bluetooth speaker, blasting pop music.This home, the sanctuary Damien and I built together, was being defiled. Destroyed."This is my house," I managed, my voice trembling with a rage so deep it barely made a sound."Of course, dear," she said, her eyes scanning the room with contempt. "But a home should feel alive, not like a tomb. It's time to clear out the dead weight."She pulled her phone from her pocket.She clicked on
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