Chapter 8: The Daughter They Chose
The next morning, I woke up in the guest room of the mansion.
The same house where I had spent years feeling invisible.
But something was different.
For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of the memories.
I walked to the mirror.
My scars were still there.
They hadn’t changed.
But I had.
I didn’t cover them.
I didn’t look away.
A knock came at the door.
I turned.
It was Lila.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
She looked nothing like the woman from the party.
No crown.
No perfect makeup.
No audience.
Just my sister.
“Nora.””
I crossed my arms.
“What do you want?””
She swallowed.
“I want to explain.””
I almost smiled.
“After ten years?””
“I was scared.””
“You keep saying that.””
She looked down.
“I was.””
I waited.
She sat on the edge of the chair.
“I hated that everyone saw me as the perfect one.””
I stayed silent.
“I know that sounds horrible.””
“It does.””
She flinched.
“But it was true.””
I looked out the window.
“You had everything.””
“No.””
Her voice cracked.
“I had everyone watching me.””
I turned.
“And I had nobody.””
The words hurt because they were true.
For a second, we were just two sixteen-year-old girls again.
One trapped in expectation.
One trapped in pain.
Then Lila whispered:
“I didn’t know the fire would spread.””
I stared at her.
“You knew enough to run.””
She started crying.
“I thought I could fix it.””
“How?””
She didn’t answer.
Because she couldn’t.
A knock interrupted us.
My father entered.
Lila immediately wiped her face.
That small movement told me everything.
Even now, she was afraid of him.
“Nora, we need to talk.””
I looked at him.
“No.””
His jaw tightened.
“You need to hear me.””
“I heard you for ten years.””
He stepped closer.
“I was trying to protect this family.””
I shook my head.
“No. You were protecting the image of this family.””
He looked angry.
Then something surprising happened.
He looked tired.
“I made mistakes.””
I laughed softly.
“Mistakes?””
He lowered his eyes.
“Yes.””
I waited.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
He would finally say it.
I’m sorry.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he said:
“I need you to understand the damage you’re causing.””
The disappointment was almost peaceful.
Because I finally stopped hoping.
“You still don’t get it.””
He looked at me.
“What?””
“You’re not worried about what happened to me.””
I stepped closer.
“You’re worried people found out.””
His silence answered.
My father left without another word.
That afternoon, I met with the woman from the phone call.
Her name was Clara.
She worked as a private investigator hired by my grandmother.
She placed a thick file on the table.
“I’m sorry you had to learn everything this way.””
I opened it.
Inside were reports.
Bank records.
Emails.
Photographs.
“What is this?””
Clara looked serious.
“Your grandmother suspected your father was hiding financial problems.””
I frowned.
“My father?””
“Yes.””
She pointed to the documents.
“Before the fire, your father was losing control of the company.””
I read through the papers.
Large transfers.
Missing funds.
Unknown accounts.
Then I saw something that made my blood run cold.
A payment.
Made two days before the fire.
To someone named:
*Evelyn Bennett.*
My mother.
I looked up.
“Why would my mother receive this money?””
Clara hesitated.
“That’s what your grandmother was trying to discover.””
I turned the page.
There was one final note.
Written by my grandmother.
If Nora finds this, she must know the truth.
I kept reading.
May you like
And the next sentence changed everything.
The person who caused the fire may not have been the person who planned it.
