A cheap emotional parlor trick. And now that she’s been discovered, she’s shut you out. The game’s over, dear. You’re out of your league. I’m not playing a game, Claraara said. Oh, everyone is, Genevieve replied, her voice a low purr. You are? I am. My brother is. The only one who isn’t, is Saraphina. And she’s the one who pays the price.

You think you’re helping her. You’re just another in a long line of disappointments. You’ll take my brother’s money. You’ll fail and you’ll leave just like everyone else. Claraara felt a flash of anger. Is that what you want? For her to be alone? Genevieve’s eyes turned to ice. What I want is what’s best for my niece, and that is stability, not a temporary, emotionally stunted college student.

She took a delicate bite of the apple. Alistister is too blind with grief and guilt to see it. He needs to seed guardianship to someone who can handle her, someone who understands her. You, Claraara stated, “Of course me. I’m her family. Now run along with your little tray. But know this, I am watching you. And when you falter, and you will falter, I will be there to clean up the mess.” The threat was clear.

Genevieve wasn’t just a concerned aunt. She was a predator circling, waiting for Alistister to fail so she could seize control of his daughter. And Claraara suspected the massive trust fund attached to her. Claraara left, her resolve hardened. This wasn’t just about a troubled girl anymore. It was about protecting her.

She knocked on Saraphina’s door. Sarah, it’s Claraara. I’m leaving the soup out here. Your aunt’s here, so I get it if you want to hide. She’s terrifying.” She heard a small huff from inside. Claraara sat down, leaning against the wall next to the door. “You know,” she said. “She thinks I’m going to fail. She’s probably right.

” The door opened a crack. Saraphina peeked out. “She’s a harpy.” “That’s one word for it.” Claraara smiled. “She told me I was out of my league. You are, Saraphina said, but there was no venom in it. I know. But here’s the thing. I don’t care about your dad’s money. Yes, you do. Okay, I do. It’s a lot of money, but I’m not here for the money.

I’m here because I know what it’s like to be the problem kid. Saraphina opened the door fully. You? Oh, yeah. When my mom left, my dad had to work two jobs. I was not great. I was angry all the time. I got into fights. I broke things. I wanted everyone to hurt as much as I did. So, what happened? Sarah whispered. My neighbor, Mrs.

Petro, an old Russian lady who smelled like mothballs and garlic. She didn’t try to fix me. She just sat with me. She taught me how to play chess. And every time I’d act out, she’d just look at me real calm and say, “That is a very loud move, but it is not a smart one. Find the smart move.” Claraara looked at her. “Your aunt. She’s making a very loud move, but you’re smarter than she is.

So, what’s the smart move?” Saraphina looked down the hall where Genevieve’s sharp laughter could be heard. She She told my father that I was the one who asked the chef to make the scallops. She knows I hate scallops. She’s trying to make me look difficult. Is that true? Yes. She’s always doing it. She suggests things to the starve.

Oh, Sarah just loves that itchy cashmere sweater. Or Sarah finds bright colors so stressful. Then when I freak out, she looks at my dad with that. See? Look. Claraara nodded. The web was more intricate than she’d thought. Genevieve wasn’t just sabotaging the help. She was actively sabotaging Saraphina, manufacturing the very behavior she claimed to be so concerned about.

So the smart move, Claraara said, is not to freak out. Let’s go down to dinner. I don’t want to. I know, but we’re not going to give her the satisfaction. And I have an idea. Claraara and Saraphina walked into the dining room. Alistair looked relieved. Genevieve looked surprised. Saraphina, darling, you’re feeling better.

I was so worried, Genevie gushed. I’m fine, Aunt Genevieve, Saraphina said, taking her seat. The main course was served. It was dark. Oh, wonderful. Genevieve trilled. I told the chef this was your absolute favorite, Saraphina, just like your mother used to make. Alistister flinched. The mention of Isabella at the dinner table was a taboo.

Saraphina froze. Claraara could see the storm gathering, the clenched fists, the tightening jaw. This was the trap. If Saraphina exploded, Genevieve won. Claraara caught Saraphina’s eye. The smart move. Saraphina took a deep breath. She picked up her knife and fork. “Actually, Aunt Genevieve,” she said, her voice perfectly level.

“Mom never made duck. She hated it. You were the one who always ordered it.” She took a small bite. But this is acceptable. Genevie’s smile froze on her face. Alistister looked from his daughter to his sister. A flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes. Claraara hid her smile behind her napkin.

Phase one was complete, but as Genevieve watched Claraara across the table, her eyes were no longer just disdainful. They were filled with pure, calculated hatred. The game had just seriously begun. The small victory against Genevieve bought Claraara a new kind of currency with Saraphina. Trust. It was fragile, but it was there.

Saraphina started talking, not about anything deep. She talked about her classes, about a stupid boy at school, about a graphic novel series she loved called the Athereum Chronicles. Claraara went out and bought the first volume. “You’re reading it?” Saraphina asked, skeptical. “Yeah, that plot twist with Commander Valyrias.

Did not see that coming,” Claraara said. A real genuine smile bloomed on Saraphina’s face. It transformed her, making her look for a second like a normal 10-year-old. The piano, however, remained the elephant in the house. The door to the music room stayed closed. “Your father,” Claraara said gently one afternoon, “He told me it was your mom’s room.

“Saraphina’s smile vanished. So, so you play just like her. I don’t know, Saraphina said, turning away. I was I’m not that good. Sarah, you were playing Shopen. I’m pretty sure that qualifies as good. She wanted me to be perfect. I’m not Sarah. Claraara sat next to her on the sofa. What? What happened with your mom? Saraphina went rigid.

She fell off her horse. It was an accident. Everyone knows that. But you were there, weren’t you? Claraara asked, a hunch forming. Saraphina stared at her, her face ashen. How did you know? Your father mentioned she was an equestrian. I just I guessed. Saraphina began to tremble. It was We were at the stables in Westchester.

She was She wanted to show me a new jump, a really big one. I I told her I didn’t want to watch. I told her. A tear rolled down her cheek. I told her it was boring and I wanted to go home and play my video game. She was sobbing now, the words tumbling out. She looked sad. She said, “Just one more, Sarah.

Watch me. Just this one.” And I I told her I told her I hated her, that she loved her stupid horse more than me. Oh, Sarah, she laughed. She said, “I’ll prove you wrong, you little monster.” And she she went for the jump. And the horse it stumbled. It It fell. And she she didn’t get up.

Claraara pulled the girl into a hug. And Saraphina didn’t resist. She clung to Claraara, her small body shaking with the force of 2 years of suppressed grief. She never got up, she whispered into Claraara’s shoulder. And the last thing I ever said to her was, “I hate you.” “She knew you didn’t mean it,” Claraara said, her own voice thick.

“No, you don’t understand. It’s It’s my fault.” At the at the funeral, Aunt Genevieve told me, she said, “Your father’s heart is broken. He’ll never forgive you for this. For what you said.” Claraara’s blood ran cold. Genevieve. And my father, he he won’t talk about her. He locked her room. He won’t even say her name.

It’s because he blames me. He hates me. And he he’s right. This was it. This was the poison, the rot at the center of everything. It wasn’t just grief. It was a profound toxic guilt planted by Genevieve and allowed to fester in Alistair’s silence. She lied to you, Sarah, Claraara said, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

Genevieve is a liar. But my dad, your dad is, he’s a coward, Claraara said, standing up. You can’t say that. It’s true. He’s so broken by his own grief that he can’t see yours. He’s not staying silent because he blames you. He’s silent because he thinks if he doesn’t say her name, it won’t hurt. He’s wrong. And we’re going to tell him.

No, I can’t. Yes, you can. I’m not letting her win. I’m not letting her do this to you. Claraara grabbed her phone and dialed Alistair. You need to come home now. Claraara, I’m in the middle of a I don’t care if you are negotiating peace in the Middle East. Saraphina needs you. Get here now. She hung up.

25 minutes later, Alistister Vance burst into the penthouse, his face pale with panic. What’s wrong? Is she hurt? What happened? He found them in the living room. Saraphina was sitting on the sofa, her face red and swollen from crying. Claraara was standing opposite her like a sentinel.

“What is this?” Alistister demanded. “She needs to tell you something,” Claraara said. “And you need to listen.” Alistister looked at his daughter. “Sarah, what is it? What’s wrong?” “I I Saraphina stammered, looking at Claraara, who nodded. I killed her.” Saraphina whispered. Alistister’s face crumpled. What? What are you talking about, Mom? Saraphina sobbed.

I told her I hated her and she fell. It’s my fault. I I know you blame me. Aunt Genevieve said, “Genevieve.” Alistister’s voice was a dangerous whisper. He knelt in front of his daughter. Sarah, look at me. What did Genevieve tell you? that that you’d never forgive me, that I broke your heart.” Alistister Vance let out a sound of such profound anguish that Claraara had to look away.

He pulled his daughter into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “Oh my god,” he choked out. “Saraphina, no. No, no, no. It was an accident. A terrible, stupid accident. It was It was my fault. I should have been there. I was I was at the office. I I’ve never blamed you. Not for one second. But you locked her room. You never talk about her.

Because I was a fool, he said, his voice cracking. I thought I thought I was protecting you. I I couldn’t looking at her things, hearing her music. It hurt too much. I’ve been I’ve been so stupid. Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. For the first time in 2 years, father and daughter were not a billionaire and his problem, but just a family grieving.

They wept together in the cold, sterile living room, holding on to each other. Claraara quietly slipped out, giving them space. She went to the kitchen and made them tea, her hands shaking. This was the impossible thing. It wasn’t about schedules or discipline. It was about lancing the wound. Later that evening, Alistister found Claraara.

His eyes were red, but he looked lighter. I don’t, he started, his voice thick. I don’t have words to thank you. Don’t thank me, Claraara said. Just don’t stop. This is the beginning. She needs you. I know. He reached into his pocket. I I want you to have this. He handed her a key. A small ornate brass key.

👉 [Tap here for Next Part] 👈