"This room no longer belongs to you," she said coldly. "It’s not appropriate. A servant will handle your belongings and move them to a more… suitable space."
I parted my lips, instinctively wanting to call her Mom—but I hesitated. Her earlier declaration echoed in my mind. She didn’t want that title from me anymore.
"Alright," I whispered quietly.
She strode toward the door, pausing just before she crossed the threshold.
"In three days, we mark Chelsea’s birthday," she said, her voice devoid of affection. "You will kneel at her empty grave and admit where you buried her body. Confess. Maybe then we can begin to mend the devastation you brought upon us." She paused, her eyes briefly shimmering with something I couldn’t decipher. "If Kian were still alive, he would’ve made sure you paid for what happened. He’d never have forgiven you—just like we won’t."
Then she left, the sound of the door closing behind her like a final verdict.
That was when the tears finally broke free. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the floor, the cold stone against my skin offering no comfort. My sobs were quiet but violent, wracking my body with sorrow too deep for words.
I no longer had a family.