But just as the cruel woman pushed them toward the dark, cramped shelter, the iron gate at the front of the estate creaked open.
A sleek black car rolled into the driveway.
Their father had just returned home.
And what he would do next would change everything.
Crash.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the kitchen.
Lily froze.
A glass of water had slipped from her small hands and shattered across the polished floor. Cold water spread across the tiles while sharp fragments scattered in every direction.
Behind her, baby Oliver began to cry loudly from his walker.
Lily rushed to him, lifting him carefully into her arms.
“Oh no… she’s going to be so angry,” Lily whispered, panic filling her chest.
Ever since their mother had died giving birth to Oliver, Lily had tried to be strong. At only eight years old, she had learned to take care of herself—and her brother.
Their once warm home had grown cold the moment Caroline Bennett, their stepmother, moved in.
“Lily!” Caroline’s sharp voice suddenly sliced through the air.
“What have you done now?”
Her high heels clicked across the kitchen floor as she stormed in, her elegant appearance barely hiding the fury in her eyes.