Chapter 3
Evelyn's POV
The living room went dead silent.
Jane watched me set down the perfume, her eyes suddenly welling up. "Evelyn, you're still mad at us?"
Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't frozen up, Mom and Dad could've found you. Yell at me, hit me, I don't care—just stop freezing Mom out. She hasn't slept in DAYS..."
Dad shot to his feet, jabbing his finger at me. "What's WRONG with you?! Your mother's worried SICK, your sister's beating herself up, and you won't be happy until you tear this family apart?!"
I looked at him calmly. "I'm not the one tearing anything apart."
"No?" Dad's voice rose. "Then what was THAT attitude just now? Fifteen years with those people and you didn't learn a shred of decency? You're absolutely—"
"You're right," I cut him off, my eyes on the perfume. "I AM the extra one. What's the point of decency?"
Dad choked, his face flushing red.
Mom quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Enough, Arthur. Just let her cool off..."
They left with Jane.
The moment the door closed, I swept the perfume and its box into the trash.
They didn't even know I was allergic to lily of the valley.
The next few days, everything shifted.
Mom and Dad were suddenly, suspiciously nice—asking what I wanted for breakfast, if I wanted to come along on errands. Mom even bought me several new outfits.
They didn't mention the perfume I'd thrown away.
Meanwhile, news of my rescue was blowing up.
The day the yacht sank, I hadn't just saved myself—I'd dragged an unconscious little girl nearly three miles through the water. Someone had filmed it. Now it was everywhere—"Heiress Risks Life to Save Child," "Miracle in Frozen Waters," "Real Hero."
TV stations, magazines, entertainment companies—all calling, wanting interviews, deals.
I turned them all down.
But clearly, someone was very interested in these opportunities.
At dinner that evening, Dad made an unprecedented effort to show concern.
"Evelyn, feeling better?" He smiled, serving me food. "Eat more. You've gotten so thin."
Mom sat beside him, eyes flickering, not meeting my gaze. Jane kept her head down, fingers twisting her napkin.
I picked at my food.
"Evelyn," Mom started, cautious, "you know how many media outlets want to interview you about what happened..."
"I refused them all." I set down my chopsticks.
"Well..." Mom hesitated. "Actually, Jane's always wanted to be an influencer. You know she's pretty popular on social media... Since your story's blowing up online, we were thinking... maybe you could let Jane take this opportunity..."
There it was.
"Nobody can even see your face in the video," Dad picked up. "And you hate attention anyway, right? Why not let Jane handle the interviews and endorsements? That's what sisters do."
What sisters do.
I looked at them, suddenly wanting to laugh.
"Sure," I said. "I can give her this opportunity. But I have one condition."
Mom's eyes lit up. "What condition?"
"Jane kneels and admits every single time she's bullied me since we were kids."
The air froze.
Jane stared at me in disbelief.
"Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" Dad slammed the table. "What are you TRYING to do? Humiliate your sister?"
"Humiliate?" I smiled. "Jane locked me in the garage overnight. Next morning you said 'accident.' Her sixteenth birthday—she called me a 'ghetto rat' in front of everyone. 'Just joking.' I won that architecture award. She told everyone the judges got paid off. You didn't stop her. Just told ME I was being sensitive."
"That's different—"
"How?" I cut him off, turning to Mom, my voice starting to shake. "Mom, on my eighteenth birthday, you said you couldn't make it because of work. Then I saw your Instagram—you and Jane at the spa. Selfies under the Eiffel Tower. Caption: 'Mother-daughter time is the best.'"
"I thought coming back meant I'd have a family..." Tears pooled in my eyes. "I'm your BIOLOGICAL daughter! Why would you rather have a fake one than even LOOK at me? What did I do wrong?"
By the end, my eyes were wet. I'd thought they couldn't hurt me anymore. But in that moment, my heart shattered anyway.
My parents stared at me, shocked.
"Evelyn, how can you SAY that!" Mom was crying now. "I love you BOTH the same! I really had to work that day... Those were mistakes... You can't just throw away everything we've done for you because of a few mistakes..."
"ENOUGH!" Dad slammed the table again. "Nothing's ever good enough for you! Look at Jane—she never makes a fuss! She's so understanding, so thoughtful. Not like YOU—three years of this ATTITUDE!"
I stared at him, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Right. I should be understanding like Jane. When you left me to drown, I should've smiled and said 'no problem,' right?"
"You—" Dad trembled with rage.
Mom sobbed. "Evelyn, Mom really LOVES you... You and Jane mean the same to me... Please don't say things like that..."
I fought back tears, looking at these people who'd given me life but never love.
Suddenly, I felt incredibly light.
Whatever hope I had left—gone.
"Fine," I said flatly.
Dad froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily.
Mom looked up, hopeful. "You really mean it?"
"Yes." I met their eyes, each word deliberate. "I'll give her this opportunity. Hell, I'll stay out of your lives forever."
I pulled a document from my bag and slapped it on the table.
"Once you sign this paper."
Dad frowned, picked up the document, scanned it. His face turned ashen—a lawyer-drafted Termination of Parental Rights Agreement.
"You want this for your precious daughter?" My voice went cold. "Sign it. After today, we're done."
