Chapter 3 3

The click of Kala's heels on the marble stairs echoed through the cavernous foyer. It was a sharp, deliberate rhythm. Click. Click. Click.

Below, the murmuring ceased. Four pairs of eyes shifted upward.

Karly sat nestled into the velvet cushions of the sofa, looking like a porcelain doll that had been dropped and glued back together. Her lower lip trembled-a practiced quiver. Doloris was stroking Karly's hair, murmuring soothing nonsense, her face a mask of maternal concern that Kala had never once received.

Arthur held a newspaper, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the pages. His jaw was set in a hard line.

Kala descended, feeling the gaze of the family press against her skin. In the past, this weight would have crushed her. She would have hunched her shoulders, looked at her feet, and begun her apology before reaching the bottom step.

Today, she kept her back straight. She looked at them not as family, but as targets.

She reached the ground floor and didn't stop at the designated "interrogation spot" in front of the coffee table. Instead, she walked past them, toward the wet bar in the corner.

Arthur snapped the newspaper shut. The sound was like a gunshot.

"I am speaking to you, Kala," Arthur said, his voice a low rumble. "Where do you think you're going?"

Kala didn't turn around. She picked up a crystal pitcher and poured water into a glass. She watched the liquid swirl, clear and pure. She took a sip, letting the cool water soothe her dry throat.

"I was thirsty," she said, turning slowly to lean her hips against the bar.

Karly let out a soft, strangled sob. It was timed perfectly.

"She doesn't care," Karly whispered to Doloris, loud enough for the room to hear. "She hates me."

Jules, standing behind the sofa like a loyal guard dog, sneered. "Stop acting like a brat, Kala. That vase was from the Ming Dynasty. It's worth more than you'll ever earn in your pathetic life."

Kala looked at Jules. He was wearing a cashmere sweater that cost more than her foster family's car. He thought he was a genius because he could code in Python.

"Since it was so valuable," Kala said, her voice calm, cutting through the emotional static, "why was it placed in the dead end of the East Hallway? Nobody walks there."

Jules blinked. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was a valid point. The East Hallway was a service corridor.

Karly sniffled, sensing the shift. "I... I went there to find Snowball. I thought I heard him crying."

Snowball. The white Persian cat.

Kala swirled the water in her glass. "Snowball?"

"Yes," Karly said, her voice gaining a little strength. "I was worried about him."

"That's strange," Kala said. She took another sip of water, her eyes locking onto Arthur. "Because Dad is violently allergic to cats. Snowball is strictly confined to the carriage house. He hasn't been allowed in the main manor for three years."

Silence descended on the room. It was heavy and thick.

Arthur frowned. He looked at Karly. "She's right. The cat is never in the house."

Karly's face paled. The tear tracks on her cheeks suddenly looked very dry. She had forgotten. In her haste to construct a victim narrative, she had forgotten the basic rules of the house.

"I... maybe I heard something else," Karly stammered. "I was just scared..."

Doloris jumped in, her protective instincts flaring. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Kala! She was confused! She was traumatized by your aggression! Why are you picking apart her words when she's clearly the victim here?"

Kala laughed. It was a short, sharp sound.

"My aggression?" Kala asked. "I wasn't even in the hallway when the vase broke. I was in the library."

"Liar!" Archer shouted, coming down the last few steps to stand behind his father. "We heard the crash, and then we saw you standing over her!"

"You saw me help her up," Kala corrected. "After I ran from the library to see what the noise was."

"You pushed her!" Archer accused. "Admit it! Apologize!"

Kala set the glass down on the marble counter. Clink.

She walked toward the center of the room. She stopped five feet from Arthur.

"I didn't push her," Kala said. "I didn't break the vase. And I certainly won't apologize for a fiction created to cover up Karly's clumsiness."

"If you don't apologize," Archer stepped forward, his fists clenched, "I will make you wish you were never born."

Kala looked at Archer. Really looked at him. He was a bully. A child in a man's body.

"If I don't apologize?" Kala repeated softly. "Then what?"

The air left the room. Nobody challenged Archer. Nobody challenged the narrative.

Arthur stood up. He rose to his full height, casting a long shadow over Kala. He was used to people shrinking in his presence.

"Then what?" Arthur repeated, his voice dropping an octave. "Then you will learn your place in this family."