Chapter 3

The air in the room froze.

Ashley stared, her mouth agape. The color drained from her face. She looked from me to my mother, then back to me. The gears were turning, slowly, painfully.

"Your... daughter?" she stammered.

"Yes," Eleanor said, her voice gaining strength. She walked over and pulled me into a fierce hug. "My daughter, Chloe, who just flew in from London."

Ashley's shock morphed into pure, unadulterated rage.

"You lied to me!" she shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at all of us. "You all set this up to make a fool of me! This was a trap!"

I ignored her tantrum. I looked past her, at the grand staircase.

"Mom, I'd like my old room back."

Ashley whipped her head around. "No! That's my room! I've lived there for four years!"

"It was never your room," I said, my voice flat. "It was mine. And I'm back."

"Mom, please!" Ashley wailed, turning to Eleanor with tears streaming down her face. "Don't do this to me. I have nowhere else to go!"

Eleanor looked at Ashley, her face etched with a disappointment so deep it was painful to watch.

"Ashley, you have a guest room. A perfectly nice one."

"The one in the basement?" Ashley shrieked. "You can't be serious!"

"I am perfectly serious," Eleanor said, her voice like ice. She turned to the housekeeper who had appeared in the doorway. "Maria, please have Miss Ashley's things moved to the small guest room. Immediately. And prepare Chloe's room for her."

Ashley stared, her face a mask of disbelief and fury. She was utterly defeated. She opened her mouth to protest again, but Leo stepped forward.

"You heard our mother," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Go."

Ashley shot me a look of pure hatred before turning and stomping down the hall, her sobs echoing behind her.

That night, I lay in my old bed, the sheets crisp and cool. I could hear Ashley's faint, muffled crying from two floors below. It was the sound of victory.