“You look thin,” she observes, studying me with that clinical gaze. “Are you eating properly?”
“Yes.”
“And the medicine?” Her voice sharpens. “You’re taking it regularly?”
“Twice a day, just like always.” My hand moves to my purse instinctively.
She leans forward, her eyes boring into mine. “Show me.”
My throat tightens. “What?”
“The bottle. Show me.”
Heat crawls up my neck, but I reach into my bag and pull out the medicine bottle. She takes it from me, reading the label, shaking it to hear the pills rattle. Counting, maybe. Making sure I haven’t missed doses.
“Good.” She hands it back. “You cannot be careless with this, Violet. Not here. Not in this house.”
“I know.” The words come out clipped.
“Do you?” She stands abruptly, moving to the window. Her back is to me now. “This isn’t like being away at school.Here, there are expectations. Standards. Alaric—” She cuts herself off, turning to face me again. “You need to be careful. Keep your head down. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
The words are familiar. She’s been saying them to me for as long as I can remember, ever since my life imploded. Even before she shipped me off to another country for “school.”
“Why did you ask me to come back?”
Her expression shutters. “This is your home.”
“Is it?”
“Don’t be difficult.” She moves toward the door, clearly done with this conversation. “You’ll stay in your old room. Third floor, east wing.” She pauses in the doorway. “There’s a welcome dinner tonight at seven. Family only. Don’t be late.”
I get to my feet. “Mom—”
But she’s already walking away, heels clicking against the marble again. She doesn’t look back.
I stand there for a moment, alone in this pristine room that feels nothing like home. The medicine bottle weighs down my purse.
Then, James appears in the doorway, my suitcase in his hand.
“I’ll show you to your room, miss,” he says gently.
I follow the butler through hallways I barely remember, past rooms I’ve never been allowed to enter. We climb two flights of stairs, and I keep up just fine, but my mind is racing. Six years I’ve been away, and nothing has changed. I’m still the unwanted burden. Still the weak link.
Finally, James stops in front of a door at the end of a long corridor.
“Here we are.” He opens it for me and sets my suitcase inside gently. “Dinner is at seven in the main dining room. Would you like me to collect you beforehand?”
“No. Thank you, James.”
He nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
I lean against it. Not because I need the support, but because I need a barrier between me and the rest of this house.
The room is nice. Too nice. Fresh flowers on the dresser, new curtains, bedding that looks untouched. But there’s nothing of minehere. No childhood drawings, no books, no trace that I ever existed in this space at all.
They’ve erased me.
I move to the window and look out over the garden below. Roses and hedges trimmed into perfect shapes. Beyond that, the grounds stretch toward the forest.
