Kirsten felt she couldn't stay in this house a moment longer. As she came downstairs, she happened to overhear those last words.
Clutching her car keys, she strode briskly out the front door of the Delaney estate.
Just as she stepped outside, she heard her mother's voice behind her.
“Ungrateful child! Making such a scene over a room! She’s been so spoiled by this family she doesn’t have an ounce of generosity in her!”
The words were like tiny needles, pricking at her heart and making her nose tingle with the urge to cry.
She didn’t turn back. She didn’t argue. She just got in her car, slammed her foot on the accelerator, and sped away, leaving the suffocating tension of the old house far behind.
In the rearview mirror, the mansion that held over two decades of her memories shrank until it was just a tiny dot, much like the crumbling sense of belonging in her heart.
She didn’t know where to go. Her apartment felt empty, and the home she couldn’t return to was filled with nothing but pain. The steering wheel turned aimlessly in her hands until she finally pulled over at a scenic viewpoint by the river.
The wind howled outside, carrying a damp chill that brushed against her face. Kirsten slumped over the steering wheel, and the tears she’d been holding back finally fell.
She wasn't upset about the room. She was upset about her parents' sudden, blatant favoritism. She was heartbroken that her twenty-plus years of being their one and only meant less than a “sister” who had just appeared—a sister whose story she wasn't even sure was true.
Gladys’s timid yet calculating act, her mother's unquestioning bias, and her father's silent complicity—it all felt like a suffocating net, leaving her breathless.
The more she thought about it, the more hurt and stifled she felt. Kirsten pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she found Danielle's number. When she dialed, her voice was thick and choked with tears. “Danielle… are you free? I need a drink.”

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