Chapter 3

Julian stood there, a silent, imposing figure in the doorway. His expression was a carefully constructed wall of neutrality, but his eyes were like chips of ice.

Behind him, Dante appeared, his face a storm of conflicting emotions-anger, confusion, and a sliver of something that might have been guilt.

And then, stepping out from behind Dante, came Ava. She leaned on him for support, her face pale and drawn. But her eyes, as they met Alicia' s, held a spark of undisguised, hungry anticipation.

She was here to watch the final act. To see Alicia finally and completely evicted from her own life.

For a fleeting moment, Alicia considered telling them everything. Spilling out the years of petty cruelties, the "accidental" destruction of her prized possessions, the constant, subtle campaign of alienation Ava had waged.

But then she remembered Dante' s words in the hospital: "She's just trying to make us feel guilty."

They wouldn't believe her. They would see it as a desperate, last-ditch attack, the pathetic whining of a jealous sister.

They had chosen their side. The truth no longer mattered.

So she chose silence. She chose to preserve the last shred of her dignity.

Her hand, resting on the handle of her suitcase, tightened until her knuckles were white.

"Just getting some things from my old room," she said, her voice light, airy, completely at odds with the crushing weight in her chest. "I'll be staying in the dorms from now on. It' s more convenient for my studies."

She saw a flicker of relief in Julian' s eyes, quickly masked. He thought this was her backing down, accepting her place.

"Good," he said, his voice clipped. "That's a sensible decision."

Then his gaze hardened again. "You upset Ava. Your little scene at the hospital was completely unnecessary. She feels terrible now."

"I'll be moving into the dorms," Alicia repeated automatically, her mind a numb fog. It was the only lie she could think of, a temporary shield.

Julian's face darkened. He thought she was being defiant, mocking them with the very solution she had offered earlier.

"I didn't mean to upset anyone," she said quietly, but the words were lost.

"Don't worry, Alicia," Ava whispered, stepping forward. "I won't take your room. I couldn't possibly. I'll just stay in the guest room."

It was another perfectly calculated move, making her seem gracious and self-sacrificing while twisting the knife.

"It won't be my room anymore," Alicia stated, her voice flat. "Once I leave tonight, I won't be coming back."

She saw it then-a flash of pure, unadulterated triumph in Ava' s eyes before it was quickly veiled by a look of sorrow.

"What did you say?" Dante stepped forward, his voice dangerously low.

"She said she's not coming back," Julian answered for her, his tone laced with scorn. "She's cutting us off. After everything we've done for her."

"Fine," Dante spat, his face contorted in a sneer. "Go. Don't come crawling back when your little dorm room gets lonely. We have Ava. We don't need you."

The finality of his words settled in the room, cold and absolute.

Alicia didn't respond. There was nothing left to say.

She bent down and began to sort through the last box of her belongings. She picked up a worn teddy bear, a gift from Julian for her fifth birthday. She set it on the bed. She picked up a collection of rare butterflies she and Dante had spent a summer catching. She placed it on the bookshelf.

She was taking the essentials. Leaving the sentiment.

Finally, she closed her suitcase. The sound of the latch clicking shut echoed in the silent room.

She lifted the heavy bag, its weight a physical manifestation of her severed ties, and walked towards the door.

Her brothers and Ava stood there like a tribunal, blocking her path. They didn't move.

She met Julian's gaze, then Dante's. She didn't look at Ava.

Slowly, they stepped aside, clearing a path for her exit.

As she passed Dante, he spoke, his voice a venomous whisper meant only for her.

"I hope you're happy, Alicia. I hope you regret this for the rest of your life."

His words were a physical force, propelling her forward, out of the room, down the stairs, and towards the front door.

She pushed it open and stepped out into a sudden, torrential downpour. The rain was cold, soaking her clothes and hair in an instant, plastering them to her skin.

"And don't you ever think of setting foot in this house again!" Julian' s voice boomed from the doorway. "As far as I'm concerned, you are no longer a Sellers!"

The name change was a technicality. He had already renounced her in every other way.

Her vision blurred. She couldn't tell if it was the rain on her face or the tears that had finally broken free.

A sharp pain shot through her palm. She looked down. The old wound on her hand, a scar from a childhood accident, had split open from the strain of carrying the suitcase. Blood mixed with the rain, dripping onto the pristine stone steps.

She remembered that accident. She had fallen from a tree, and Dante had carried her all the way home, his face streaked with tears, terrified she was seriously hurt. Julian had cleaned the wound with a gentleness she hadn't known he possessed.

Now, they stood in the warm, dry doorway, watching her bleed in the rain, and their faces were cold, hard stone.

She felt a wave of dizziness, her legs threatening to buckle. She was so tired. So incredibly tired.

"Alicia, please don't go!" A voice cried out.

It was Ava, rushing out of the house, her face a perfect mask of tragic desperation. "Julian, Dante, stop her! It's all my fault!"

The rain immediately began to soak her own expensive clothes.

"Ava, get back inside!" Dante yelled, his voice laced with panic. "You'll catch a cold!"

He and Julian rushed to her side, shielding her from the downpour, hustling her back towards the warmth of the house.

Alicia watched the scene, a bitter, broken smile touching her lips. It was a perfect performance.

Her body swayed, and the world began to go dark at the edges.

Just as she was about to fall, a car screeched to a halt at the curb.

A door flew open, and strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

"Alicia! My God, what are they doing to you?"

Through the haze of rain and pain, she recognized the face of Dr. Carlisle Drake. He had come to pick her up, to take her to the Institute. He had come early.

He gently took the suitcase from her bleeding hand, his expression turning to thunder as he looked at the trio in the doorway.

"Are you people insane?" he roared, his voice cutting through the sound of the storm. "Letting her stand out here like this? She is the most brilliant mind I have encountered in a decade, and you treat her like garbage!"

"Who the hell are you?" Dante shot back, stepping forward protectively in front of Ava.

"It doesn't matter," Alicia whispered, tugging on Dr. Drake's arm. "Please, let's just go."

She didn't want a scene. She didn't want him to fight a battle she had already lost.

"They deserve to know what they're throwing away!" Dr. Drake insisted, his anger a protective shield around her.

"Stay out of our family business," Julian said, his voice dangerously calm, though a flicker of unease crossed his face as he took in Dr. Drake's authoritative presence.

"Please," Alicia begged again, her voice breaking.

Dr. Drake looked down at her pale, rain-streaked face, at her bleeding hand, and his anger subsided, replaced by a deep well of compassion.

He nodded curtly. He guided her into the warm, dry car, tossing her suitcase in the back.

As he closed the door, he shot one last, withering glare at her brothers.

"You will regret this," he said, his voice low but carrying an immense weight. "By the time you realize what you've lost, it will be a thousand times too late."

He got into the driver's seat and the car pulled away from the curb, its headlights cutting through the sheets of rain.

In the rearview mirror, Alicia could see Julian and Dante standing on the steps, frozen. The anger and certainty had vanished from their faces, replaced by a dawning, horrified confusion.

They looked small and lost in the storm.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the image, shutting out the past.

The car moved forward, carrying her into the darkness, toward an unknown future.

She had lost her family. But she had, at last, saved herself.