“Don’t call me that!” Vanessa shouted, stepping closer. “I’m not your daughter and never will be. I only tolerate you because Daniel has that ridiculous ‘good son’ obsession. But now he’s gone. You’ll stay in your room unless I say otherwise. And don’t bother asking the staff for anything—I gave them the day off. If you want water, get it yourself.”
Clara lowered her head, her throat tightening. She didn’t argue. She walked slowly back to her room, leaning against the wall for support, while Vanessa’s mocking laughter echoed behind her.
By noon, hunger gnawed at Clara’s stomach. She knew Vanessa was on the terrace, laughing with her friends over champagne. Carefully, Clara went to the kitchen, hoping only for a piece of bread and a glass of milk.
Her trembling hands slipped.
A crystal glass fell, shattering loudly against the imported porcelain floor.
Seconds later, Vanessa stormed in.
“What have you done?!” she shrieked. “You idiot! That glass set costs more than you earned in your entire miserable life!”
“I’m sorry, it slipped—I’ll clean it up,” Clara whispered, bending down.