The year I turned six, my mother started fading. It began with a persistent cough, the kind that sounded like dry leaves rattling in a storm, and ended with her spitting copper-tasting blood into tattered tissues. The adults always whispered the same story: Mom was the “Lost Daughter,” the true blood heir of the Kensington-style estate we lived on the edge of. But before she could be officially welcomed back—before she could finally marry my father and reclaim her life—my Uncle Ted had to go to the family’s ancestral chapel and draw Three White Stones. It was a tradition, a superstitious ritual passed down through generations of the wealthy and the cruel. I had been alive for six years, and I hadn’t seen a single white stone. They always played the part of the grieving, guilty family. They showered us with just enough kindness to keep us from leaving, swearing that next year, the ritual would finally go our way. That day, wanting more than anything to see Mom smile, I crawled under the heavy oak altar in the chapel, hoping to help Uncle Ted find those three stones. Instead, I watched through the shadows as my father, Pete, reached into the ceremonial urn and swapped the white stones for black ones. Uncle Ted stood beside him, nodding slowly. “Just like the last six times,” he murmured. “Tell her the heavens aren’t ready. Tell her the draw was black.” Pete let out a cold, self-deprecating laugh. “If we let her back into the family, Lorraine would have to leave.” His voice turned dangerously soft. “I can’t have Lorraine suffering. She’s too fragile for the world outside these gates.” Lorraine. The “Adopted Jewel.” The girl who was living the life that belonged to my mother. My mother saw it all. She had come looking for me and was standing in the doorway, a ghost in the shadows. First, she cried. Then, a terrible, haunting laugh escaped her lips. Finally, she knelt down and stroked my cheek with a trembling hand. “Willa,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a clarity that terrified me. “Are you ready to leave this place with me?” … 1 I wrapped my arms around her neck and forced a smile. “Wherever you go, Mom, I go.” She didn’t say another word. She just squeezed my hand until it hurt, her knuckles white. She wiped her face, composed her features into a mask of exhaustion, and led me back to our “home.” It wasn’t a house. It was a converted gardener’s shed in the far corner of the estate. A tin-roofed box that felt like a furnace in the summer and an icebox in the winter. Because Mom hadn’t been “purified” by the ritual yet, Ted insisted we couldn’t live in the main house. I had just sat down on the edge of our creaky cot when the knock came. Pete and Ted stood in the doorway, their faces mirrors of practiced regret. Ted held three black stones in his palm. “I’m so sorry, Isabel,” Ted said, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I failed you again.” I couldn’t help it. The anger boiled up, hot and sharp. “You’re liars! Both of you!” I screamed. “I saw you! I saw Daddy—” Before I could finish, Mom’s hand clamped over my mouth. She forced a thin, brittle smile. “It’s okay, Ted. I’ve grown used to it.” But I felt the tremor in her body. I saw the way her eyes rimmed with red. Ted exhaled, a visible wave of relief washing over him. Pete stepped forward, patting Mom’s shoulder with a condescending pity that made my skin crawl. “Isabel, I promise. Next year, the stones will be white. I’ll make sure of it.” Their promises were as hollow as the wind, a script they had memorized years ago. Suddenly, a figure appeared behind them. Lorraine leaned against the doorframe, her silk dress shimmering in the moonlight, her arm sliding casually through Pete’s. “Pete, honey, the gala is starting,” she chirped. “The guests are asking for you.” Pete’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. “Lorraine, you’re so delicate. You shouldn’t be out here in the damp air.” Ted immediately took off his designer blazer and draped it over Lorraine’s shoulders. “You’ll catch a cold. Go back inside, now.” Lorraine stuck her tongue out playfully. “I just wanted to check on my ‘sister.’ I’m going, I’m going.” Mom’s face went even paler. This shed—this place they treated like a biohazard—was the only home we’d known for six years. Yet they acted as if Lorraine would shatter just by standing on the threshold. Ted turned, guiding Lorraine away. Pete followed, pausing only to offer Mom one last, sickening smile. “Don’t lose hope, Isabel. Next year.” I stood at the door of the shed, watching the three of them walk back toward the glowing warmth of the mansion. Lorraine was tucked between them like a precious princess, shielded from the night. Music and laughter began to drift across the lawn. I swallowed hard, my stomach grumbling at the thought of the catering I knew was being served inside. Mom knelt down and brushed a stray hair from my forehead. “Willa… do you want to go with your father?” I froze. “There’s heat there,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Beautiful rooms. Warm food. You don’t have to stay here in the cold with me.” I shook my head violently, throwing my arms around her neck. “No! I want to be with you! I don’t care about the big house. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be!” Mom smiled, leaning her cheek against mine. Then, she jerked away. A violent spasm racked her body, and a spray of bright, crimson blood hit the dirt floor. 2 Mom collapsed into the red puddle, her body convulsing. I lunged for her, shaking her arm. “Mom! Mommy, wake up!” But her eyes remained closed, her breathing coming in ragged, wet gasps. I scrambled to my feet and ran. I ran until I lost a shoe, the gravel of the driveway cutting into my feet. “Daddy! Uncle Ted! Help! Mom’s bleeding!” The security guards at the mansion’s side entrance looked down at me with bored indifference. “You need an invitation to be here, kid.” Tears blurred my vision. “My uncle is Ted Kensington! My dad is Pete Reynold! Please, she’s dying!” One of the guards went to push me back, but the side door swung open. Lorraine stood there, looking down at me with a sneer. “You’re making a scene,” she hissed. “Don’t you have any manners?” I didn’t care about her insults. “Please, Lorraine! Get my dad! Mom is coughing up blood!” Lorraine’s lips curled into a cold, sharp smile. “Why should I care if she’s bleeding? She’s been a parasite on this estate for years. If she dies, she dies. It’s what she deserves for trying to steal a life that isn’t hers.” The blood rushed to my head. I screamed at her, “You’re the thief! You took her place! You’re a liar and a fake!” Lorraine’s expression shifted instantly. She reached out and slapped me so hard I spun around, my head cracking against the stone pillar. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my temple. “What is going on here?” Pete’s voice boomed. Lorraine immediately began to cough, her hand fluttering to her chest. Pete rushed to her side, catching her before looking at me with pure disgust. “Willa! What is wrong with you?” “Daddy, Mom is—” Lorraine cut me off, her voice a weak whisper. “Don’t be mad at her, Pete. She’s just a child. She was just… calling me a squatter. Saying I stole her mother’s life. I’m fine, really.” She coughed again, leaning heavily into his chest. Pete’s face hardened. “You’re just like your mother. Jealous, manipulative, bitter. If anything happens to Lorraine’s health because of your tantrums, I’ll never forgive you.” I swallowed my sobs, forcing the tears back. I turned and saw Ted standing in the foyer. He was my last hope. “Uncle Ted, please. Mom is on the floor. She won’t wake up.” Ted’s eyes flickered with a momentary flash of panic. “What? What happened to Isabel?” Lorraine peeked out from Pete’s arms, her eyes welling with fake tears. “Ted, she’s lying to get out of trouble. I already told her I wasn’t mad, but she shouldn’t use her mother’s illness as a cover for being cruel.” “I’m not lying!” I shrieked. “Please, just look!” Ted’s face turned to stone. “Enough. Willa, I know you and your mother feel slighted. But for six years, the stones have been black. That’s not our fault—it’s fate. Rules are rules. Until she’s cleared, she doesn’t set foot in this house.” He looked at me with cold disappointment. “But this? This constant drama? You’re turning into a monster just like her.” He waved over a servant. “Take her to the cellar. Lock the door. She stays there until I say otherwise.” I backed away, tripping over my own feet. “No! Please! She’s dying! Just look once! Just one look!” Two guards grabbed my arms, lifting me off the ground. I kicked and screamed, but their grip was like iron. “Daddy! Look at her! Please!” Pete looked away. He put his arm around Lorraine, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, darling. I’m here. You’re safe.” Ted waved his hand impatiently. “Cover her mouth. Don’t let her disturb the guests.” 3 They tossed me into the cellar like a bag of trash. My knees hit the concrete floor, the pain radiating up my spine. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, and darkness swallowed me whole. Outside, I could hear the muffled voices of the house staff. “Those two are so pathetic,” one woman laughed. “Always trying to claw their way in. They’ll never be like Miss Lorraine. She was born for this.” “Exactly. Blood doesn’t mean a thing if the Master doesn’t want you. And with the news of the pregnancy? Miss Lorraine is carrying the heir to the Reynold and Kensington fortunes. That little brat in the cellar is yesterday’s news.” My heart stopped. Dad didn’t want to marry Mom because he was going to marry Lorraine. Because she was pregnant. What were we, then? Just a secret they kept in a shed? I scrambled to the door, pounding until my fists were raw. “Please! Help my mom! Someone, please!” A scoff came from the other side. “We’re just the help, kid. We know better than to touch the Master’s business. Stay quiet.” Then, silence. The cellar was small and smelled of damp rot. I curled into a ball, shaking. My mother had been locked in here before. Years ago, when she first tried to fight for her place. She had screamed and cried then, too. But eventually, she stopped fighting. She just started smiling—a sad, empty smile. She’d cook our meager meals and tell me everything was fine. I buried my face in my knees, the image of her lying in that pool of blood burned into my retinas. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but a sharp, stinging pain on my ear jolted me awake. I reached up and felt something wet and furry. A rat. I screamed, a primal sound of pure terror, and threw myself at the door. “Help! Let me out! Help me!” Heavy footsteps approached, full of irritation. The door was wrenched open, and Ted stood there, looking haggard and annoyed. “For god’s sake, Willa! Stop that racket!” He grabbed my arm, hoisting me up. “It’s the middle of the night. Lorraine needs her rest. She’s pregnant, and your screaming is stressing her out.” I was trembling so hard I could barely stand. Blood was dripping from my ear. Ted frowned, finally noticing the jagged bite mark. He reached out, his voice softening just a fraction. “Alright, come out—” I didn’t let him finish. I sank my teeth into his hand with every ounce of strength I had. He let out a yelp and recoiled. I dove under his arm and bolted. I ran through the darkness, across the manicured lawn, to the tin shed. Mom was exactly where I had left her. She hadn’t moved an inch. I fell to my knees beside her. “Mom? I’m back. Willa’s here.” She didn’t answer. Her skin was the color of wet ash. The blood on her lips had dried into a dark, crusty seal. Her chest was still. “Mom… wake up. The floor is cold.” 4 I wiped my eyes and forced a smile. Mom hated it when I cried. She told me I had to be a brave girl. The smile pulled at my swollen cheek where Lorraine had hit me, but I didn’t let the tears fall. I found a basin of water and a rag. I knelt beside her and gently wiped the blood from her face. Once she was clean, I tried to move her to the bed. I pulled at her arm, bracing my feet against the floor, but I was too small. She was a dead weight. I tried three times before I slumped against her, my chest aching. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. I dragged the blanket off the cot and draped it over her, tucking it in around her shoulders. Then, I crawled in beside her. I pulled her cold arm over my shoulder, pretending she was holding me the way she always did. “You’re just sleeping,” I whispered into her neck. “You’ll wake up tomorrow.” The morning sun woke me, streaming through the holes in the tin roof. I sat up and looked at her. “Mom, it’s morning.” I found a bowl of leftover porridge and brought it to her. I held a spoonful to her lips. “Are you hungry? I’ll feed you.” The porridge just dribbled down her chin, staining the blanket. “Mom… please. Just one bite.” The bowl shattered on the floor as the reality finally broke through. I remembered what she told me weeks ago, her voice calm as if she were discussing the weather. “Willa, if there ever comes a day where I fall asleep and you can’t wake me up… call this number.” She had given me a scrap of paper with a series of digits. “He’s my brother. Not the one in the big house. A real brother. He’s very, very powerful. He’ll come for you. You have to memorize it. Do you hear me?” I had repeated it until I could say it in my sleep. I found her old flip phone, but it was locked with a passcode. I tried her birthday, my birthday… nothing. I sat on the floor, my face smeared with tears. I stood up, tucked the blanket around her one last time, and kissed her cheek. Then I ran to the mansion. Ted was the one who opened the door. His face darkened the moment he saw me. “You again? You bite me like a rabid dog and then show your face here? Didn’t your mother teach you any better?” I flinched as Pete walked up behind him. “Daddy,” I whispered. “I need to use a phone.” Pete looked at me coldly. “Has your mother finally decided to apologize for her behavior?” I twisted my fingers together, silent. “Using a child to play mind games,” Pete sighed, shaking his head. “She hasn’t changed in six years.” He looked at my pathetic, tear-stained face and seemed to soften for a fleeting second. He handed me his smartphone. I took it with trembling hands and dialed the number burned into my brain. The line rang twice. A man’s voice, deep and resonant, answered. “Hello?” I took a shuddering breath. “Are you my mom’s brother?” I whispered. “My mom is dead. Can you come get me?” The world went deathly quiet.
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