Chapter 2

Brielle shrieked and stumbled back, shielding the dress with her arms.

"Stop it! You're crazy! You'll ruin it!"

"It's my dress to ruin!" I yelled, my vision blurring with tears of fury.

The commotion brought him. My stepfather, Senator Richard Thorne, appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of concern that didn't reach his cold eyes.

"What is all this noise?" he asked, his voice calm and authoritative.

"Daddy!" Brielle cried, running to him. "Elara's gone insane! She attacked me! She's trying to rip the dress!"

Richard wrapped an arm around his daughter, pulling her close. He looked at me, his gaze filled with disappointment. It was a look I had seen my entire life, one that always made me feel small and wrong.

"Elara, what is the meaning of this?" he asked. "Your sister was only helping you."

"She was not helping," I said, my voice shaking. "She was wearing my dress. She wants to take my place."

Richard sighed, a long, theatrical sound. "Elara, you're being hysterical. It's the wedding day jitters. Brielle loves you. She would never do anything to hurt you."

He was gaslighting me. Just like before. Painting me as the unstable one, the ungrateful one.

I looked past him, to the household staff who had gathered in the hallway, their faces a mixture of curiosity and fear. They wouldn't meet my eyes. Their loyalty had been bought and paid for by my stepfather long ago. They saw me as a temporary fixture, and Brielle as the true lady of the house.

"I want her out of my dress," I repeated, my voice flat.

Richard' s expression hardened. The mask of the concerned father dropped, revealing the ruthless politician beneath.

"That's enough," he said, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. "Brielle will wear what she pleases. You will go back to your room and compose yourself. You are embarrassing this family."

"This is my mother's house! This is my family!" I shot back, desperation clawing at me.

He took a step toward me, his presence filling the room. He was a big man, and he used his size to intimidate.

"Let me be very clear," he said, his voice a venomous whisper. "Your mother is gone. I am the executor of her estate. I control everything in this house. The money, the staff, the name."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot on my cheek.

"And I control you. Don't you ever forget that."

He turned and led a smirking Brielle out of the room, leaving me alone, surrounded by the scent of my mother's perfume and the crushing weight of my own powerlessness.

I was trapped. Again.