I stood at the heavy oak doors of Vance Manor, clutching Lily’s hand. I wore a simple, fifty-dollar dress and drove a ten-year-old sedan—a deliberate choice. To them, I had to remain the scapegoat. It was the only way they would show their true faces. I needed them to believe I was still the girl who could be broken.
Cliffhanger: As the butler opened the door, a cold draft swept out, carrying the scent of Margaret’s suffocating perfume. I felt Lily’s hand tremble in mine, and for a second, I wondered if I was leading my daughter into a sanctuary or a slaughterhouse.
Chapter 2: The Audience of Vipers
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged mahogany and the bitter tang of over-poured gin. The grand foyer, once a testament to the Vance legacy, now felt like a mausoleum. The wallpaper was peeling in the corners, a detail Margaret tried to hide with strategically placed, oversized floral arrangements.
Vivian was already there, draped in a Versace gown that I knew was bought on a maxed-out credit card. She stood by the fireplace, swirling a martini with the practiced boredom of the elite.
“Oh, look, the prodigal failure returns,” Vivian sneered, her eyes raking over my dress with a cruelty that felt like a physical weight. “I hope you didn’t bring that child’s sticky fingers near the heirloom china, Elena. We have standards to maintain, even if you’ve spent the last decade forgetting them in whatever suburban hovel you inhabit.”
Margaret didn’t even stand to greet us. She sat at the head of the long dining table like a desiccated queen on a crumbling throne, her fingers clutching a glass of expensive Bordeaux.
“I hope you brought your checkbook, Elena,” Margaret said, her voice a cold rasp that vibrated in my marrow. “The estate taxes are due, and since you’re the only one who didn’t ‘achieve’ a position of influence in life, the least you can do is contribute to the preservation of the family name. Consider it the rent for the life I gave you—a life you’ve largely squandered.”
I sat down, my heart heavy but my mind sharpening into a tactical edge. The test had begun, and they were already failing with flying colors. I watched them—the way they looked at Lily as if she were a biological error, the way they spoke about “legacy” while sitting in a house they no longer owned.
“The manor looks… different, Mother,” I said softly, testing the waters. “Is everything alright with the staff? I noticed the gardens are a bit overgrown.”
