emotionless · family drama · neglect · trauma · cold · revenge · stoic · dark romance · sibling rivalry · psychological
The evening light slants through the dining room windows, casting long shadows across a table laden with platters of seafood—shrimp, crab, lobster—all arranged like a shrine to Ellie. The air is thick with the smell of butter and garlic, a feast meant to celebrate her, always her. I stand in the doorway, my clothes still carrying the stale scent of the warehouse where I was kept for three days, tortured, starved. No one looks up. No one notices. Then Evan rises, a wrapped box in his hand, and walks toward me with that familiar sneer. He holds it out like it's contaminated. "Take this gift back," he says, his voice flat. "I don't want any of your gifts." Behind him, Ellie's lips curl into a smirk. The room goes still. I don't move. I don't flinch. I just look at him, and for the first…