When the adoptive parents finally found their real daughter, I figured it was time for me to leave.

I started making arrangements to move out, just to another villa, nothing dramatic. But when she found out, she got teary-eyed and said, "I came back to be part of this family, not to break it apart."

And honestly, that got to me. I stayed.

Big mistake. It didn’t take long before she started pulling little tricks. Making things up. Playing the poor, innocent victim.

And the worst part, Jada and Wyatt believed her. Every time.

That was when it finally clicked, she didn’t stop me from leaving because she cared. She just didn’t want me to take anything with me. She wanted me gone and empty-handed.

So I packed some bags. Well, not mine. Theirs. Because this place, this whole manor, was mine.

——

A short scream woke me up in the middle of the night. I grabbed a coat and stepped into the hallway.

Right away, Jada came storming over and her face... she looked furious. I had never seen her like that before. She had always been calm, soft-spoken, almost too gentle.

But now, she was livid.

"Susanna," she said sharply, "how could you treat Florence like that? She spent more than ten years out there, finally came home and this is how you act?"

I just looked at her, completely blank. "What did I even do to her?"

My answer only seemed to push her further over the edge.

Wyatt stood nearby, silent but clearly disappointed. The nanny, Anna Watson, looked like she wanted to step in but didn’t dare. She just clenched her hands and kept her mouth shut.

And Florence was behind Jada, crying like she had just been betrayed by the world. "Mom... don't be mad at my sister... it’s my fault..." she sobbed.

And that, of course, made things worse. Jada shot me a look like I had just kicked a puppy. "Look at her, she’s still standing up for you! I raised you for over a decade and this is how you treat your sister?"

Before I even had a chance to speak, Jada turned around and gently patted Florence’s back. "Florence, I know you're a kind girl. You’re saying all this just to keep the peace.

“But sweetheart, this is your home too. You don’t need to keep quiet or back down. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this gets handled properly today."

Then she shot Wyatt a sharp look and snapped, "What’s wrong with you? Your daughter is being treated like this and you just stand there doing nothing?"

I was already annoyed. It was five in the morning. I hadn’t even had the chance to open my eyes properly and now they were putting on this dramatic scene like it was prime-time television. My patience ran out.

"What exactly happened?" I asked, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. "Just say it. Don't stand here acting like I’m supposed to read your mind."

Anna, who had been standing awkwardly in the background, finally couldn’t hold it in and rushed out the words in one breath. "Miss Florence said you made her sleep in the utility room. Madam heard noises while out for her morning walk and went to check... and found her there."

I blinked, trying not to roll my eyes too hard. Great. Now I was living in a plot twist straight out of a cheesy webnovel.

Still, I knew better than to lose it. The more I snapped, the worse it would look. So I kept my cool. "I set up the second bedroom for you, Florence. You know, the one with the big windows and sunlight all day? Same size as the master. Since when did I ever tell you to sleep in a utility room?"

Florence looked at me with wide, watery eyes, playing her part like a pro.

"It’s all my fault," she said quickly. "I chose to stay there. Please don’t blame my sister. Mom, Dad, don’t get mad at her, or else..."

This half-hearted act was making it look like I was the bad guy, so I had to hold back my anger. "Or what?" I asked, trying not to snap.

Florence looked down, biting her lip. "Or... or I’ll feel guilty."

I couldn’t hold back a dry laugh. "Guilty? Then why don’t you feel guilty about twisting the truth, making me look like the villain and saying I forced you into the utility room?"

Florence didn’t respond, just kept crying, head down. Jada, on the other hand, was getting more pissed off by the second.

"You dare to threaten your sister in front of me and your father?" she hissed. "If we weren’t home, I shudder to think how you’d treat her!"

Wyatt, looking equally pissed now, jumped in. "Florence is a good kid, there’s no way she’d be stuck in a utility room. Who would choose to leave a perfectly good bedroom and sleep in that dingy room? You’ve gotta explain this, or—"

I couldn’t be bothered to keep explaining. I just pointed to the surveillance camera nearby. "You’ve only been here a week, so you probably haven’t noticed the cameras all over the house. Why don’t we just check the footage and see if I really made you sleep in there?"

Jada and Wyatt exchanged a glance, clearly getting angrier. "Fine. Let’s watch it and once we have proof, you won’t be able to talk your way out of this."

But as soon as Florence heard "surveillance camera," her face went completely pale, like she’d seen a ghost. She started shaking, but Jada and Wyatt didn’t notice. They just yanked Florence and me toward the monitoring room downstairs.

Before we even reached the stairs, Florence suddenly dropped to her knees.

"Mom, Dad, my sister really didn’t know," she said, voice shaking. "She gave me a nice room. But... I’ve been through a lot and I always felt like I didn’t deserve it. So... I just secretly went to the utility room to sleep when everyone was asleep."

Jada and Wyatt stopped dead in their tracks, clearly stunned. After a long, awkward silence, Wyatt spoke. "Then why did you say Susanna made you sleep in the utility room?"

Florence shook her head, her voice small. "I didn’t. I saw how upset you both were and I got scared, so I couldn’t say anything. I’ve just been through too much... I’m too scared to speak up. It’s all my fault."

I stood there, my face icy, waiting for Jada and Wyatt to apologize, but instead, they just helped Florence up from the floor, looking at her with pity.

"My baby’s been through so much out there and we can’t change the past. We’ll make it up to you," Jada said, her voice full of sympathy.

Just like that, they all hugged each other and walked off, leaving Anna and me standing there, still processing. I was honestly a bit confused. Had all the kindness they’d shown me over the years really been fake?

Anna, clearly irritated, spoke up. "Miss Florence is a piece of work. When she came home last week, you told them you wanted to move to another villa and she was crying, saying, 'I came to join this family, not to break it up,' so you stayed. Now look at this!"

She shook her head, clearly frustrated. "And your parents are totally taking her side. It’s obvious she’s making stuff up." Anna paused, then looked at me. "What’s your plan now, miss?"

I gave a thin smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. "Florence just got back and they feel guilty. I’m not gonna stay mad. They were good to me before... We’ll just see how things go."

Anna let out a sigh. "Yeah, they were always good to you before."

Ever since what happened last time, Florence had been acting cautious around me. She probably figured out I wasn’t that easy to mess with. She didn’t stir up trouble anymore, just made a few weird little comments in that passive-aggressive way of hers.

My parents seemed to realize they’d gone too far too. They kept buying me gifts as some kind of apology, like that could fix everything.

Then, about a month later, her birthday party was coming up. Florence tiptoed into my room like she was walking on eggshells.

"I really am sorry about last time," she said softly, like she was rehearsing. "But it wasn’t my fault. Our parents just misunderstood. I’ve been trying to explain everything to them."

She didn’t even wait for me to reply before pulling out a shopping bag. "I got you a dress, just a gift. I hope you’ll wear it to my party. If you do, it’ll make Mom and Dad really happy."

I glanced at the dress. Expensive. Stylish. Exactly the kind of thing I liked. The right size, too. But I knew better. Florence didn’t do anything without a reason.

I grabbed the dress and tugged at it just a little and just like that, the seams split. The whole thing fell apart in my hands like it was made of tissue paper.

Yeah. Imagine showing up to the party in that. What a joke.

Florence’s expression changed fast. "That… wasn’t me. It must’ve been the store clerk or something…"

I tossed the ruined dress back at her and said flatly, "You really don’t get tired of this, do you? Still pulling the same stunts. What? Did you forget how last time ended? Didn’t you feel embarrassed enough?"

She glanced around my room, then gave me this smug little smirk. "You’re just an orphan my parents adopted. You really think you belong here? Now that I’m back, there’s no room left for you."

Honestly, I almost laughed. But before I could say anything, she leaned in close and whispered, "Yeah, I lost last time. But I learned something, our parents still love me more. Last time, you had the security cameras to back you up. But this time? No cameras. Let’s see what you’ve got now."

There was something off about the way she looked at me, like she was holding back something nasty. Before I could even react, she suddenly slapped herself, hard.

"You really think I'm soft? That I'm scared of you? That I gave you that dress out of kindness?" she snapped, her voice shaking. "No. I just wanted to kick you out of the Leclair Family before I even told anyone who I really am."

She kept going, voice rising. "I don't want you to just move out of the manor. I want you erased. I want you gone for good. Give back everything, my parents' love, their money, the clothes, the jewelry, even that perfect fiancé of yours. All of it. I want it all back."

She started hitting herself again, over and over. But her skin was thick and even though it had to hurt, it didn't look like much, just some redness.

I stared at her, unimpressed and pointed at the scissors nearby. "If you're gonna go this far, at least make it look real. No one is gonna buy it without a little blood."

She actually picked them up. Took a few deep breaths, then stabbed the scissors straight into her palm. She trembled from the pain, but apparently, that wasn’t dramatic enough either. She threw herself into the floor-length mirror.

Glass shattered everywhere. Her arms and legs were cut up, her face was red and swollen and she had ripped out chunks of her hair. It was chaos.

And then she made her final move, ran over, grabbed me and rubbed her bloody hands all over my clothes like she was claiming me as part of the scene.

"Mom! Dad! Help! Help me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.