Still clutching the torn wedding gown like a fragile relic of a broken promise, Drew's footsteps echoed up the stairs. His heart pounded—not with hope, but with dread. He didn't want to believe what awaited him, yet part of him feared it was exactly as he imagined.
When he pushed open the door to my room, his breath caught in his throat.
The space that had once been my sanctuary was gone—transformed beyond recognition.
Gone were the soft sheets on my bed, the scattered clothes, the worn-out books piled beside the nightstand. Not a single trace of me remained. Instead, the room had been converted into a sleek dance studio. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined one wall, the wooden floor polished until it gleamed. A barre stretched along another wall, and the faint scent of fresh paint hung in the air.
The sight slammed into Drew like a physical blow.
His hand instinctively pressed against his chest, as if trying to soothe the sudden, sharp ache that gripped his heart.
I wasn't just erased from this family... I was erased from my own life.
He had always known that I wasn't truly valued here—that my place had always been uncertain. But seeing this empty room, stripped of every trace of me, revealed a truth far harsher than any cold words could convey.
Only a month had passed since I'd left. Only thirty days—and yet, they had swept me out like dust, discarded my existence without a second thought.
Drew's fists clenched at his sides, anger and sorrow raging inside him.
How utterly alone I must have felt, he thought bitterly. How utterly broken I must have been the day I left her behind—choosing Laura and Anne instead.
The guilt crashed down on him like a tidal wave, dragging with it a burning resentment—not just toward the family, but toward himself.
What kind of life had he been living all these years? How could he have been so blind?
With a grim, haunted expression, Drew turned and left the room.
He nearly collided with Jake in the hallway.
"Sienna's your biological sister, isn't she?" Drew asked, his voice low but sharp—an accusation disguised as a question.
That was all he said before he strode away, leaving Jake staring at the empty doorway where my room used to be.
Jake rarely stepped beyond the threshold of that door. Usually, he only called my name from the hallway, never venturing inside.
Now, standing there, he felt a sudden, unfamiliar pang of sadness twist through him.
Despite his dislike for me, blood ties ran deep.
No matter how he felt, no matter the grudges or bitterness, he would never let an outsider treat me cruelly.
Just then, Anne slipped quietly from Jake's arms and wandered into the room.
She began to dance.
Her movements were practiced, fluid, almost hauntingly graceful.
It was clear she had spent countless hours rehearsing here, turning this once cherished space into her private stage.
She danced beautifully—but her every step was a silent reminder of what had been lost.
From the stairs, Eliza appeared, arm linked tightly with Laura's. Her face was stern and unforgiving as she confronted Jake.
"Did you two bully Laura?" Eliza's voice was sharp, but tinged with disbelief. "I've never seen her cry like that over something as silly as a wedding gown. Was that really necessary?"
Her words trailed off as her eyes fell upon the empty room.
Her expression shifted instantly—confusion, then shock, and finally a heavy silence.
Anne finished her dance and scampered over to Eliza, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Grandma, did I do a good job?" she asked eagerly.
Eliza didn't answer. Instead, her gaze fixed on Laura, now pale and tense beside her.
"What happened to everything that was in this room?" Eliza's voice was flat, lacking warmth.
Laura wiped her eyes and smiled sweetly—too sweetly.
"I asked the maids to move the furniture to the basement," she explained, her tone carefully measured. "Anne needed space to dance. The bed and dresser were in the way. I didn't want her to hurt herself."
Eliza's eyes narrowed.
"I said you could let her dance in Sienna's room. I never said you could touch her stuff."
Laura pouted, her lips trembling slightly as she protested.
"But the room's so small. How else could Anne dance if everything wasn't moved?"
She wiped her eyes again, snatching Anne's hand as she turned to leave, her voice dripping with false remorse.
"Sorry for the trouble. I'll leave with Anne."
No one stopped her.
Laura's footsteps faded as she reached the staircase.
Finally, Eliza spoke, her voice sharp as a blade.
"Fine. You should go back to your own house anyway."
There was something unspoken in Eliza's words—something bitter and raw.
Despite her usual favoring of Laura, seeing my room emptied and transformed had struck a nerve deep within her.
She couldn't help but direct her anger at the daughter she'd always doted on.
Laura froze.
She spun slowly to face Eliza, disbelief and hurt flashing across her face.
Her eyes flicked to Jake, silently pleading for support.
But Jake didn't look at her.
Instead, his gaze was cold and resolute as he called to the maids.
"Put everything in Sienna's room back where it belongs. And from now on, no one is allowed to enter that room. Ever."
His tone brooked no argument.
The maids nodded quickly, fear etched in their faces.
Laura stood at the bottom of the staircase, watching the scene unfold with eyes darkening into hatred.
Eliza noticed.
She saw the fire burning behind Laura's tear-streaked mask—the bitter, burning hatred for everything and everyone standing between her and what she wanted.
And the house, once a place of fragile peace, felt suddenly like a battleground ready to explode.