"It's Diana's birthday, and you show up looking like this. When will you ever learn?"
"Fiona, don't play these kidnapping games anymore. You worried Mom, Dad, and Jordan."
Diana's words made everyone remember my so-called kidnapping. They pointed and whispered, and my parents took her words as proof I'd staged the whole thing. But I didn't rush to defend myself like I used to.
I just nodded and admitted fault.
"I understand. Sorry for the trouble. It won't happen again."
"What kind of act is this now?"
Jordan was clearly irritated, convinced I was stirring up drama. He grabbed my hand—then recoiled from how ice-cold it was. He pointed at my umbrella.
"Throw that thing out. You brought it on Diana's birthday on purpose, didn't you? If you really want to die, then die somewhere else. Don't come back."
Even now, those words made my whole body ache. I lowered my head, throat bitter.
"Mom, if I died... would you all be happy?"
"What, threatening us now? Fine—if you want to die, do it far away from here. Don't scare Diana."
I knew they didn't like me. They thought I wasn't as accomplished as Diana, couldn't make them proud like she could, couldn't be sweet and charming like she could.