Chapter 3
With that, I hung up and immediately blocked Charles's number.
When I reached the foyer, May was wiping down a vase with a rag. Seeing me head for the door with the canvas bag on my back, she froze for a moment, then rolled her eyes.
"Mrs. Fletcher, what now? What kind of show are you putting on this time? Every time you fight, you run away from home, and every time you come slinking back on your own. Mr. Fletcher isn't going to waste his time picking you up."
I stopped and turned to look at her. My eyes were so calm it was like I was looking at empty air. The mockery at the corner of May's mouth stiffened.
She instinctively stepped back half a pace, and the rag fell from her hand. I pushed the door open and stepped into the cold wind.
11:00 p.m. Thomas pushed open the villa door, reeking of alcohol. "Where's Stella?" He yanked loose his tie and tossed his coat to May as she hurried over.
May answered with a stammer, "M-Mrs. Fletcher left this afternoon with some beat-up bag on her back..."
Thomas paused, then let out a cold laugh. "So she's got an attitude now. Don't bother with her. Freeze all her cards. Let's see how many days she can last out there."
He strode upstairs and shoved open the master bedroom door, then reached out and flipped the wall switch.
The harsh light flooded the room, and his gaze automatically swept toward the vanity. There was no warm milk waiting there to please him, and no woman sitting up for him with hopeful eyes.
There was only that pink diamond ring, lying alone on the cold glass surface and throwing back a sharp gleam.
Thomas stared at the ring, his breathing suddenly turning rough. He strode over, snatched it up, then swept the crystal vase beside it to the floor.
Glass shattered everywhere as he clenched his jaw, veins bulging on the back of his hand. "Stella, you'd better not regret this."
After leaving Hillcrest Manor, I used the few hundred bucks I had left on me to rent a windowless basement room in the old part of town.
The air there was damp, the walls peeling in large patches, and I could sometimes hear rats gnawing in the corners. But to me, it was safer than either the Fletcher house or the Sinclair house.
At least nobody there had put me on Do Not Disturb.
On the third day after settling in, I went back to Sinclair Estate, not to ask for help, but to take the only thing my mother had left me: an old piano.
Luxury cars lined the outside of the estate. Today was Julia's twenty-second birthday.
I pushed through the carved front doors in faded sweats and old sneakers.
The living room was blazing with light, and the champagne tower sparkled brilliantly. Julia stood in the center in a pink designer dress like a pampered princess, while Mr. Lucas Sinclair and Mrs. Vivian Sinclair watched her cut the five-tier cake with loving smiles.
The second I walked in, the room fell silent.
Every eye turned to me. Some were mocking, some were eager for drama, and some didn't even bother hiding their disgust.
Vivian's smile vanished immediately. She came over fast on her heels, grabbed my arm, and hissed under her breath, "What are you doing here dressed like that? Haven't you embarrassed us enough already? Get upstairs now." Her nails dug hard into my flesh.
I didn't struggle. I only looked at her coldly. "Let go." My voice wasn't loud, but it carried a dead stillness that couldn't be ignored.
Vivian froze, then let go without thinking. She clearly wasn't used to me looking at her as if she were a stranger.
Lucas walked over with a frown and barked, "You vanished for a whole month without even one call home, and now you come back with that dead look on your face?
"Today is Julia's birthday. Did you have to show up now just to ruin the mood?"
"Stella, please don't be mad at Mom and Dad." Julia lifted her skirt and walked over, her eyes red and watery, looking pitiful as ever.
"If you don't like me having a birthday party, I'll tell them to clear everything away right now. Please don't run away from home again, okay?" She added.
The young socialites around us started whispering.
"Seriously, she's so ungrateful. The Sinclairs raised her all these years, and all she does is bully Julia." Someone said.
"Exactly. Even Mr. Fletcher can't stand her. She asked for this." Another said.
Looking at Julia's carefully made-up face, my stomach churned again.