Chapter 4 Chapter 4 The Trap‌

‌The call was from Heather Carter. Summoning me.‌

‌Four years living in this city, and she'd never once reached out. Now, suddenly, she wanted me? Like I'd come running?‌

‌Why the hell should I?‌

‌Before I could voice the refusal, she dropped the bait:‌ ‌"It's about your father. There are things you need to hear."‌

‌That shut me up. I hailed a cab straight to the Carter mansion.‌

‌The whole ride, my mind raced. Was this some twisted attempt at an explanation? Maybe there was more to Dad's story. Maybe he'd misunderstood her intentions. clung to a terrible delusion.‌

‌Then I walked in.‌

‌And saw my grandmother – who should have been a thousand miles away in our village – perched stiffly beside Heather on the pristine sofa.‌

‌My stomach clenched.‌

‌Thick gold bangles hung heavy on Grandma's wrists, shiny and new. The price tags still dangled, flapping like surrender flags.‌

‌First thought:Heather bought her.‌

‌I was still reeling, debating whether to blurt out the truth about Heather attacking Dad, when Heather swept over.‌

‌"Sophie, darling!"‌ ‌Her voice dripped saccharine warmth I'd only ever heard her use on Lena. She took my hand, guiding me to a seat.‌ ‌"You look pale. Have you eaten? How are you managing?"‌ ‌Her gaze was soft, maternal – the look I'd ached for my whole life.‌

‌My throat tightened. The accusation about Dad died unspoken.‌

‌"See? Your mother worries for you,"‌ ‌Grandma piped up, beaming at Heather.‌ ‌"She's even found you a fine husband!"‌

‌Blinking, still half-trapped in the illusion of care, I echoed, "A husband?"‌

‌Heather shot Grandma a warning glance, then clasped my hand tighter.‌ ‌"Sweetheart, you're not getting younger. I only want security for you. A respectable man has expressed interest."‌

‌The "respectable man" turned out to be a fifty-year-old widower desperate for a new wife. Heather painted him as a saintly benefactor.‌

‌Worse, the substantial dowry he offered – enough to make Grandma's eyes glitter with greed – had her practically shoving me out the door.‌

‌I wrenched my hand from Heather's grip, cold fury piercing my chest.‌ ‌"If he's such a prize, why not offer him to Lena? She's older, still single. I-"‌

‌"Shut your mouth, Sophie!"‌ ‌Lena's voice cut through the air as she descended the stairs.‌ ‌"Mother is doing you a kindness. A whore like you doesn't get to be choosy. As if you could ever compare to me."‌

‌That was the spark.‌

‌I whirled on her.‌ ‌"Compare? Oh, you mean like how you spread your legs for that shop clerk over a chocolate bar? Pretty sure the whole village remembers that story. If I'm a whore, what does that make you?"‌

‌"You lying bitch!"‌ ‌Lena shrieked, lunging. Her nails raked down my cheek, searing lines of fire.‌

‌Rage exploded. I raised my hand to strike back.‌

‌But before I could connect, blinding agony tore through my scalp – Heather had seized my hair from behind and yanked, hard enough I thought my skin would peel off. I instinctively curled inward, trying to lessen the pain.‌

‌Smack!‌ ‌Heather's palm cracked across my face.‌

‌"She's your sister! She has every right to discipline you!"‌ ‌Heather roared, hand still raised, eyes blazing.‌ ‌"And you dare raise a hand? No respect! Is this how your worthless father raised you?"‌

‌"Don't you talk about my father!"‌ ‌I screamed, forcing my body up despite the agony in my scalp. Her grip was like iron.‌

‌Driven by pure desperation, I sank my teeth into the wrist clamped in my hair.‌

‌Heather howled, finally releasing me.‌

‌I stumbled back, gasping – only for a vicious kick to slam between my shoulder blades.‌

‌The force sent me crashing forward, straight towards the sharp corner of the heavy oak dining table.‌

‌I'm going to lose an eye-‌

‌I braced, eyes squeezed shut.‌

‌But the impact wasn't sharp wood.‌

‌My face collided with something solid, warm, and unyielding. The familiar scent of cedarwood flooded my senses.‌

‌I looked up through blurred vision.‌

‌And my mind went utterly silent.

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