I had come home early from work. As I passed by the study, I saw Sara crouched beside Elise, her hand gently resting on the child's head. A motherly gesture—warm, tender. But her expression told another story.
Her eyes were sharp with loathing.
"You're old enough now," she whispered. "Stay away from your uncle from now on. If it weren't for him, your father would've never run away. He would've been here. He would've stayed."
My breath caught in my throat.
She wasn't done. "Don't worry. I've already found your father. Soon, the three of us will be together again."
Elise slowly raised her head. Her eyes, once so trusting, locked on her mother's with confusion—and then comprehension. She looked like something inside her had just snapped into place.
"So... Dad didn't want me because of Uncle Oliver?"
That was when they noticed me standing at the doorway.
Elise's face twisted in fury. She ran at me with no warning and shoved me hard. My body slammed into the stair railing and I stumbled, falling awkwardly down the last few steps. Pain shot through my ankle.
From the top of the stairs, she glared down at me, her small frame trembling. "I hate you! This is all your fault!"