Chapter 4

"Yeah," I said. "I'm going to avenge Branson. And I'm going to get revenge for myself, too."

My phone suddenly buzzed.

I picked it up and saw a text from Maurice. "Adelaide, where are you? Can we talk? I didn't mean what you think I meant."

I stared at the screen, a smirk tugging at my lips.

He still thought a couple of sweet words would fix everything.

Freya leaned over to take a look. "Are you going to reply?"

"Yeah," I said, typing out a message. [I need some time to cool off. Don't contact me for the next few days.]

After sending it, I shut off my phone.

"What are you up to?" Freya blinked, puzzled.

"Playing hard to get," I replied. "He's probably freaking out, scared I'll really walk away. The more he panics, the more he'll turn to Martha for comfort."

"And then?"

"Then I'll have even more evidence," I said with a smirk. "The more stressed Maurice gets, the more he needs someone to vent to. And Martha's always there to listen."

Freya looked at me, like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You've really changed," she said. "Before, just hearing Branson's name would make you cry. But now..."

"Not anymore," I replied. "I ran out of tears over the past six years."

It was getting dark outside, but the smell of lilacs still hung in the air.

Branson used to say lilacs meant "first love" and "memories."

He always talked about planting a lilac tree in the yard once we graduated.

It was a shame he never made it to graduation.

I closed my eyes, and his final moments filled my mind.

Branson was covered in blood, lying on the stretcher, but he still held my hand and whispered, "Don't be scared. It's okay."

But he was the one who wasn't fine at all.

"Freya," I said, opening my eyes. "Can you help me with something?"

"Go ahead," she replied.

"Find out where the doctor who treated Branson after the accident is now," I said. "I need him to testify."

Freya nodded. "Leave it to me."

I walked over to the entryway, changed my shoes, took off the wedding dress, folded it up, and put it in a bag.

"What are you going to do with the wedding dress?" Freya asked.

"Burn it," I said. "Just looking at it makes me sick."

By the time I stepped outside, it was already pitch black.

The streetlights were already on as I flagged down a cab.

The driver asked, "Where to?"

I replied, "The Shelton family."

Halfway there, I turned my phone back on and saw Maurice had sent me a bunch more texts.

[Adelaide, I really screwed up. I get it now.]

[I shouldn't have said those things. But I do love you.]

[Will you answer the phone? Please?]

I didn't reply.

A few minutes later, Martha sent me a message: [Adelaide, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. Maurice said he'll take responsibility, so please, just let us be together.]

I stared at the message and let out a cold laugh.

Give her my blessing?

Alright then. I would make sure they both ended up in hell together.

By the time the cab pulled up to the Shelton family, it was almost nine at night.

I stood at the iron gate, staring up at the three-story house.

Warm yellow light spilled out from the windows, and I could just make out voices drifting from inside.

This was supposed to be my "home."

But I never really felt like it was.

I pressed the doorbell, and Kiley Butler, the housekeeper, opened the door. She froze for a second, clearly surprised. "Miss Shelton, you're back? I wasn't expecting you."

"This is my home. Why shouldn't I come back?" I gave her a smile and walked right in.

In the living room, my parents, Hector and Monroe, were sitting on the couch. Martha was curled up in Monroe's arms, sobbing, and to my surprise, Maurice was there too.

They all looked at me, each with their own reaction.

Hector frowned, Monroe's face darkened, Martha started sobbing even louder, and Maurice stood up, taking a couple steps toward me. "Adelaide..."

"Don't come any closer," I said, raising my hand to stop him. Then I turned to Hector. "Dad, you called me here to talk about the family business. So why is he here?"

Hector cleared his throat. "Maurice is here to clear things up about today."

"Clear things up? About what?" I shot Maurice a cold look. "Are you here to explain how you lied to me for six years, or why you were all over my sister?"

Maurice's face went pale. "Adelaide, I..."

"Adelaide, it's all my fault," Martha said, lifting her head from Monroe's embrace, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "I shouldn't have fallen for Maurice, but you can't help who you fall for."

I looked at her, almost burst out laughing.

She was putting on a better show than I did at the wedding today.

"So what?" I leaned against the doorframe. "You want me to give you my blessing and let you two be together?"

Martha bit her lip, didn't say a word, and just kept crying, tears streaming down her face.

Monroe, worried sick, hugged Martha tighter and turned to me. "Adelaide, Martha's always been weak. Can't you just let her have what she wants?"

Here we go again.

When I was eighteen and first brought back home, Martha couldn't stand me and threw my stuff out the door. Monroe just said, "Martha's always been spoiled. Just give in to her."