She looked smaller than he remembered, wrapped in an old sweater that didn’t belong in that house—or in that life. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands trembling as she tried to eat from a cheap plastic plate filled with scraps.
She was crying.
Softly. Quietly. As if she had learned to do it without making a sound.
Standing over her was Vanessa.
Perfect posture. Perfect clothes.
A perfect cruelty.
“Hurry up and eat,” Vanessa snapped, her voice sharp with disgust. “I told you not to come inside when I have guests. You smell like cheap food and detergent. It’s embarrassing.”
Two women stood behind the glass door, watching and whispering.
Teresa lowered her head.
“I’m sorry…” she murmured. “I was just hungry… I haven’t eaten since yesterday…”
Vanessa sighed dramatically.
“Then maybe next time you’ll follow the rules,” she said coldly. “Tonight, you can sleep outside with the dogs.”
And then—
she poured her drink over Teresa’s head.
Lucas froze.
The box slipped from his hands, hitting the ground as the pastries scattered across the stone.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
His voice tore through the air.
Vanessa spun around, her face draining of color when she saw him.
“Lucas?! You’re back early—I can explain—”