I coughed so hard my ribs ached, each spasm tearing through my chest like claws. The sound of the television filled the living room, bright and merciless, a voice announcing the world outside my prison.

“Carlisle Huxley arrives with his partner, the award-winning actress Cosette Montello…”

Partner. Mistress. Lover. Whatever name they gave her, the meaning was the same. My husband stood before the cameras with another woman on his arm. I could imagine it clearly: Carlisle in his dark suit, smiling for the press, while Cosette glittered in her designer gown. The world would cheer for them. They looked perfect together, didn’t they?

Another cough seized me, this time so violently that I tasted iron. My hand shot to my lips, and the sticky warmth told me enough—it was blood.

The door banged open. “MOM!” Emily’s voice carried sharpness rather than concern. Her footsteps clicked against the polished floor as she marched closer.

“What did you do to the laundry?!” she demanded. “You were supposed to handwash it, but it looks disgusting! You’ve ruined everything again.”

“I tried,” I whispered hoarsely, clutching my skirt to hide the stains on my hand. “I thought I scrubbed them carefully…”

Emily scoffed. “Carefully? Don’t lie. You can’t do anything right. That’s why Dad never takes you anywhere. That’s why nobody wants to show you off. You’re useless—an idiot. And blind.”

Her words struck deeper than any blade. My daughter, the child I had carried, kissed, sung to sleep, now looked at me with nothing but contempt. I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel the disgust in her tone.

Another cough rattled up from my chest, unstoppable. I bent forward, gasping.

Emily’s voice came again, colder than before. “Stop coughing already—you’ll ruin the expensive carpet. Why are you even in the living room? Just stay in your little room where you belong.”

Her footsteps retreated, the door slamming shut behind her.

I sat frozen, her cruelty echoing long after she left. My chest burned, my lungs ached, and when I pressed my fingers to my lips again, the blood was still there. Shame and sorrow tangled inside me until I could barely breathe.

Maybe she was right. Maybe this was all my fault. If I hadn’t lost my sight, I could have cared for them properly. If I were stronger, prettier, more capable, Carlisle wouldn’t have strayed to Cosette. Emily wouldn’t despise me. I wouldn’t be sitting here like an intruder in my own home.

With trembling hands, I pulled myself to my feet, gripping the furniture for balance. Slowly, step by step, I made my way down the familiar path to the staff room—my room now. Once, this house had been mine. Now I was hidden away like something shameful.

I collapsed onto the narrow bed, the ache in my chest overwhelming. Darkness swallowed me, heavy and merciful, dragging me into sleep.

When I woke, a strange pressure tugged at my hand. My fingers were moving against paper, guided by someone else’s grip.

I stiffened. “Who’s there?”

“Stop resisting, for fuck’s sake,” a man’s voice snapped.

My heart dropped. Carlisle.

“Carlisle?” My throat closed up with dread. “What are you doing? What are you making me write?”

His reply was flat, merciless. “It’s a divorce agreement.”

My breath caught. “No… no, please.” I struggled, but his grip was unyielding. “I don’t want this. Carlisle, don’t do this to me. I’ll be good, I’ll do anything you ask, just—don’t leave me.”

His hand pressed mine down harder, forcing the strokes. “You'll do anything for me, huh? Then do me a favor... quietly accept this divorce.”

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “What will happen to me? To our children? Carlisle, I can’t survive without you.”

But he didn’t care. My hand was forced downward, the stamp pressing into the paper with brutal finality. The vibration shuddered through me, hollow and cold.

It was done. Against my will, it was done.

He pulled back, folding the document. “It’s finished.”

“Carlisle—” My voice broke, but he didn’t answer. His footsteps moved toward the door, the hinges creaking as he opened it. Cold air swept into the room for a moment before the door clicked shut.

Silence fell. My body trembled as another cough shook me, hot blood burning in my throat.

Then—footsteps again. Lighter. Slower. It's definitely not Carlisle’s.

The door shut, and a soft laugh, sweet and poisonous, filled the air. “Oh, Emma. Left all alone already?”

My stomach twisted.

Cosette.

She didn’t rush. Her heels tapped lazily against the floor as she circled me like a predator. “He didn’t even wait until morning, did he? That’s how desperate he was to be rid of you.”

I clutched the sheets, my knuckles white. “Why are you here?” I managed, my voice shaking.

“To remind you,” she whispered, her perfume thick around me as she leaned close, “that this house, this family, your husband—they’re mine now.”

I flinched, but she only laughed softly.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be gone. And when you leave, Emma, don’t expect anyone to miss you. Not Carlisle. Not your children. Certainly not me.”

Her laughter trailed like smoke as she moved toward the door.

“But do rest well tonight,” she added, her tone sharp, cruel. “Tomorrow will be… unforgettable.”

The door clicked shut.

And I was left in the dark, heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Her words echoed inside me, each one a blade.

Tomorrow.

Something was coming. And I didn’t know if I would survive it.

The next morning, the sound of footsteps jolted me awake. I sat up quickly, my body tense, listening. The shuffle of skirts, the rustle of cloth, drawers being opened—people were in my room.

My hands gripped the blanket. “Who’s there?”

No one answered. The movements continued, steady and purposeful. Panic surged through me, hot and sharp.

I reached blindly toward the small table beside my bed, found the vase, and hurled it to the ground. It shattered into pieces with a violent crash.

“I said, what do you think you’re doing?!” My voice cracked as it echoed against the walls.

The room went still for a heartbeat before a cool, practiced voice replied. “The master ordered us to pack your things. The new mistress will need this room for her clothes.”

The words hit me like ice water. I clenched the blanket until my knuckles ached. That voice… I knew it.

“Mildred.” My chest tightened. The head maid. The woman who had practically raised Carlisle and, later, my Emily. She was more than just staff; she was family once. But over the years, she had turned cold, her influence warping Emily’s heart against me.

I wanted to scream at her, to claw at the betrayal spilling through my veins, but my tongue stilled. If I fought her now, if I rebelled, there would be no way left to beg Carlisle to take me back. Mildred was too important.

She gave a sharp order to the others. “Continue.”

The maids resumed packing my things into boxes, each thud of folded fabric and click of latches like nails hammered into my coffin. My hands shook as I bit my nails, struggling to think. This had to be another phase—Carlisle’s way of punishing me whenever a new woman caught his eye. He always came back eventually. Always. This had to be Cosette’s idea, whispering poison into his ear, demanding more, demanding everything.

I couldn’t sit still. I stumbled out of the room, ignoring the startled gasps of the maids. My bare feet padded against the cool floors as I made my way toward the dining hall.

Halfway down the corridor, a sound stopped me cold.

Laughter. Emily’s laughter. Bright, genuine, the kind I hadn’t heard in years—not from me.

“Thank you, Ms. Cosette!” she chirped. “I really love this so much! You’re the best! I finally found someone with as much fashion sense as me!”

My chest tightened.

Cosette’s voice followed, playful and smug. “Oh, Emily, I’d be so happy if you could call me Mother. After all, I’ll be marrying your father soon.”

I froze. The words struck like a dagger. Marry? My knees weakened, and I clung to the wall for balance.

“What… what do you mean?” My voice slipped out before I could stop it.

Silence. Then Emily’s irritated tone: “What the... since when were you there?”

I staggered forward, each step heavier than the last. “Carlisle,” I called out desperately, searching for his presence. “What is she supposed to mean? I thought this was just another phase—like always. You kick me out when you have a new woman, but then you come back. That’s how it’s always been! But divorce? Marriage? With her? What—”

Emily cut me off, her words sharp as glass. “You’re really an idiot, Mom. Can’t you get it? Dad is going to marry Ms. Cosette—I mean, Mother Cosette. It’s a fact. And I love it! My idol is going to be my mother. Isn’t it great?”

Her voice was full of excitement, joy, pride—the kind of joy she had never once given me.

I staggered, the world tilting beneath my feet. A pain deeper than my illness, deeper than my blindness, pierced through me.

“Why?” My voice broke, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. “Why are you all doing this to me? I did everything for you. I accepted everything. Every phase. Every humiliation. I tried to understand, to endure, because I thought if I loved you enough, it would make up for my blindness. I thought love could replace everything I lacked.”

My shoulders shook. “Do you… do you even love me?”

The room was silent for a long moment. And then Carlisle’s voice finally came, calm and unflinching.

“Our marriage was a mistake.”

The air left my lungs.

“The woman I loved was your twin,” he continued coldly. “Selene. The reason I married you was because I thought I could feel her in you.”

Selene. My twin sister. My other half, who had died in the same accident that stole my sight.

My knees buckled, but I clung to the wall. “Selene…”

“I tried to love you, Emma,” Carlisle said, softer now, almost regretful—but the words still cut like blades. “But I couldn’t. The divorce settlement will be enough for you to live on. Don’t worry about Emily. She looks so much like Selene. I’ll take good care of her.”

His chair scraped against the floor. “Goodbye, Emma.”

The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving me surrounded by the echo of his words.

A mistake. That was all I had been.

The daughter I gave my soul for, the husband I clung to, the life I tried to preserve—all of it crumbled before me, and there was no light, no sight, no warmth left in the world.

Cosette’s laughter rang again, sweet and triumphant. “Well, that’s settled then.”

I stood rooted in place, shaking, as though my very bones were breaking.

The rain beat down like endless needles, soaking me to the bone. My suitcase handles slipped in my palms as I stood at the gates of the mansion I had once called home. The same mansion where I had laughed, cooked, prayed, and begged to be enough.

Now I was cast out.

The maids hadn’t looked at me when they shoved the suitcases outside. They had only muttered that “the master’s orders” left no room for pity. The door shut behind me with a dull thud that echoed like a coffin sealing shut.

I stood there, trembling, water running down my face, mingling with tears that wouldn’t stop. My body felt numb, yet my heart bled in every corner.

This—this was the price of my weakness.

Every cruelty from Emily, every insult from Carlisle, every laugh from Cosette—they stabbed sharper in the rain. I pressed my fist against my chest and asked myself the question I had avoided for years.

When did it all begin to fall apart?

And I knew the answer.

It began with the accident.

The memory clawed its way back through the storm.

Selene’s laugh still echoed in my mind that night we drove down the winding coastal road. She was radiant—my twin, my mirror, though she always shone brighter. I had been at the wheel, the radio humming softly as the wind tangled our hair.

Then—the screech.

The car swerved, the world spun, and before I could even cry out, we crashed through the guardrail.

The sea below swallowed us whole.

My head slammed against the dashboard, white light bursting behind my eyes. My vision shattered, colors bleeding together, the world spinning like a broken carousel.

“Emma!” Selene’s voice screamed through the chaos, sharp and terrified.

The car filled with icy water. She kicked at her door, again and again, grunting, gasping, until finally it burst open. A rush of water dragged us, but she grabbed me with desperate strength.

“Hold on!” she shouted. Her arm hooked under mine, dragging my limp body toward the surface.

I tried. God, I tried. My chest burned, my sight dimmed, but Selene pushed and pulled until at last we broke through the water. I choked on air, my lungs searing with life.

But she didn’t stop. She pushed me higher, forcing me toward safety.

I clung to her hand. “Selene!”

Then—a tug.

Her scream tore through the storm as something below dragged her down.

Her foot was caught.

She thrashed, kicking, gasping. “Emma—help me!”

I reached for her, but my body was heavy, my head spinning from the blow. My sight wavered in streaks of gray and red.

Selene’s face was the last thing I saw. Her lips moved beneath the water, her hair swirling around her like a dark halo. She was slipping, sinking—

And I was powerless.

The world tilted, blackness smothered me, and when I woke again, Selene was gone.

Forever.

A sob tore out of me as I clutched my suitcase to my chest in the present. My tears blended with the storm. “Selene… I’m sorry. I should’ve saved you. I should’ve done more. If I weren’t so weak, you’d still be here.”

My voice broke. “You wouldn’t have left me like they did.”

I pressed my forehead against the hard case, rocking as if it could cradle me. For years, I had carried the weight of her death like chains. I believed I deserved this loneliness, this rejection. Maybe Carlisle was right—maybe I was nothing but a mistake.

And then—

A voice slipped through the storm. Smooth. Mocking.

“I’m glad you’re still here.”

I stiffened, lifting my head. The raincoat rustled as the footsteps drew near. I knew that sound. I would know it anywhere.

“Cosette,” I whispered, my stomach twisting with dread.

She chuckled, the sound cutting through the rain like a blade. “So pitiful. Standing here in the storm like a stray cat no one wants.”

I wiped my face quickly, forcing myself to stand tall despite the water soaking through my dress. “Are you here to mock me again? Is it not enough that you stole my husband and daughter? Must you watch me crawl, too?”

“Oh, Emma,” she purred, drawing closer. “You think so little of me. I don’t just want to mock you. I want to crush you.”

I gritted my teeth, clutching my suitcase tighter. “I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Perhaps.” Her tone sharpened, playful malice dripping in every word. “But maybe you’d like to know the truth about your sister. About Selene.”

My breath hitched. The rain was loud, but her words thundered louder.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded.

Cosette leaned close, so near I could hear the smirk in her voice. “Don’t you wonder who was really behind that accident? Because I know. I know exactly who caused Selene’s death.”

The storm roared around us, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.