emotionless · family drama · neglect · trauma · cold · revenge · stoic · dark romance · sibling rivalry · psychological
The evening light filters through the dining room windows in long, oppressive streaks, illuminating a table crowded with shimmering platters of shrimp, lobster, and crab—a culinary shrine to Clara. The air is thick with the cloying scent of garlic and butter, a feast designed to celebrate the favorite child. I stand in the doorway, my clothes still clinging to the stale, metallic scent of the warehouse where I spent three days in darkness, tortured and starving. No one looks up. To them, I am a ghost they'd rather forget. Then Julian stands, a wrapped gift in his hand, and strides toward me with a familiar, cutting sneer. He holds the box out as if it were filth. "Take this trash back," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "I have no use for your pathetic gifts." Behind him,…