Chapter 4: The House Without Her

She wanted to believe the best in people. I wished I could, too.

"I never expected his pity." Pity is poison.

I said it quietly, almost to myself. Pity is a poison, slow and insidious.

Because I knew, one day, that pity would turn into a knife aimed right at my heart.

It always does. Sooner or later, the people who pity you start to resent you for needing them.

I blocked Carter. Easier than I thought.

It was easier than I thought it would be. One tap, and his number was gone. The silence was a relief.

But three days after I left my mom’s house, I got a text from Autumn. Of course she found me.

Her name flashed on my screen, dredging up old dread.

"Sis, it’s me, Autumn." She always called me that.

She always called me that, like we were really sisters. Like everything was fine.

"I didn’t expect my appearance to make you react so strongly. Please believe me, there’s nothing going on between me and Carter." Sure, Autumn.

The words oozed with innocence. I could practically hear the fake concern in her voice.

"You leaving like this makes things hard for Carter. I don’t know what to do, either." Always the victim.

Always the victim, always helpless. She played her part to perfection.

"Sis, the grudges of the last generation shouldn’t involve us. Besides, we’ve already gotten our retribution—Dad’s business went under, you know that." She wanted me to feel sorry for her.

She wanted me to feel sorry for her. To forget the past, as if forgiveness was that simple.

"After all, a month ago, I asked you for help." I remembered.

She’d called me late at night, voice trembling, asking for money. I said no, and I didn’t regret it.

"You refused, so I turned to Carter. Even if he treats me differently, it’s only because of you, sis, I know that." She twisted everything.

She twisted every fact, making herself look blameless.

"So, sis, could you come back first? Carter and I are waiting for you in Maple Heights, and so is Maddie. I’ll apologize to you for her." The guilt trip.

The guilt trip was textbook. I almost laughed.

I read those words over and over. Each line, a dagger.

Each line was a dagger, carefully aimed. I let them sink in, then let them go.

I have to say—she hadn’t changed.

She hadn’t changed at all. Still playing the same games, still hoping I’d fall for it.

Autumn really knows how to twist the knife. She always knows exactly where to hurt me most.

She’d spent years perfecting her aim. I was done being her target.

Her words made my skin crawl. I needed a shower.

I set my phone down, feeling dirty, like I needed a shower just to wash her off me.

She was like a parasite; only when she crawled out did I realize just how rotten things had become inside. The infection had spread.

The infection had spread, quiet and deadly. Now I was finally ready to cut it out.

But I wasn’t who I used to be. Not anymore.

I was stronger now. Smarter. I’d learned to survive.

I calmly blocked and deleted her, not letting her words get to me at all. It felt good.

It felt good—clean, final. Like closing a door and locking it tight.

Honestly, her mother Cheryl was the original master of these tricks. She thought she’d already won.

She thought she’d already won. That was her mistake.

She thought she was guaranteed to win. But I had tricks, too.

But I had a few tricks of my own. The game wasn’t over yet.

Come on, her mother Cheryl could have written the book on manipulation. Autumn was just following the script.

Back then, Cheryl played the long game. Endured until Autumn was three. Then got pregnant with a boy. That’s when she forced my mom out.

She played the long game, biding her time. My mom never saw it coming.

Sure enough, later that day, Autumn switched numbers and called me again. Persistent as ever.

Persistent as ever. She never could take no for an answer.

This time, she dropped all pretense and called directly. No more games.

Her tone was different—harder, colder. The gloves were off.

The first thing I heard was her familiar, light laugh—the same one she used as a child whenever she got her way. That laugh.

It was a sound I’d grown to hate. Sweet on the surface, rotten underneath.

Then she drawled, "Sis, you’re really lucky. After leaving us, you still managed to marry so well." Envy, clear as day.

The envy in her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t stand that I’d landed on my feet.

"Running away in such a hurry—are you afraid of me?" Not a chance.

She wanted me to admit defeat. I refused to give her the satisfaction.

"Don’t worry, as long as you sign those divorce papers, I won’t let you end up like your mom, with nothing." She dangled the threat.

She dangled the threat, hoping I’d beg. She didn’t know me at all.

I laughed. "Autumn, did you forget to do your homework? I graduated from Columbia Law and now specialize in divorce cases."

I let the words hang in the air, sharp as a knife. I wanted her to know exactly who she was dealing with.

"Maybe you should be the one begging me to go easy on you?" Tables turned.

I smiled, picturing her face. It felt good to finally have the upper hand.

"After all, it was thanks to the lesson you and your mom gave me that I became a lawyer." I owed them nothing.

I owed them nothing. If anything, they should thank me for turning out so well.

The line went dead silent, then she hung up. Victory.

I pictured her slamming the phone down, furious. It was the most satisfying silence I’d heard in years.

Honestly, I was bored.

The drama didn’t interest me anymore. I was done playing her games.

Leaning on the porch railing, I looked out at the pitch-black night sky. It was quiet. Finally.

The stars were hidden behind clouds, the air thick with the promise of rain. I breathed in deep, letting the darkness settle around me.

If Autumn could find me, then Carter—who could stir up all of Maple Heights—definitely could, too. He had resources.

He had resources, connections, people who owed him favors. I knew it was only a matter of time.

I left, but I wasn’t dead. Far from it.

I was very much alive. More alive than I’d been in years.

Carter, I’m waiting for you. Let’s see what you’ll do.

Let’s see if you’re brave enough to face me now.

At the charity gala, Carter seemed distracted. He couldn’t focus.

He stood near the open bar, swirling his bourbon, eyes scanning the crowd. His smile was tight, his posture rigid.

Someone came over to greet him, "Mr. Ellison, Mrs. Ellison." The greeting hung in the air.

The greeting hung in the air, awkward and heavy. Carter’s jaw clenched.

He instinctively frowned. The man’s date quickly tried to smooth things over, "Oh my gosh, I’m sorry—when have you ever seen Mrs. Ellison with long hair? My mistake, Mr. Ellison." Social circles in Maple Heights were small.

At those words, Autumn affectionately took his arm. "It’s fine, I begged my brother-in-law to bring me out to see the world."

She played her part perfectly—charming, demure, just the right touch of vulnerability. The onlookers relaxed, the tension fading.

She smoothed it over, like always.

Carter’s gaze fell on Autumn’s waist-length hair, his eyes dark and unreadable.

He stared a little too long, the memory of someone else’s hair—my hair—lingering in his mind.

He remembered: when Lillian married him, she suddenly cut off her long hair and dyed it burgundy—fiery and bold, with an extra edge. He never understood why.

The color was a statement—one he never quite understood. It was my way of drawing a line, marking a new beginning.

He casually probed, "Women always have a reason for cutting their hair." He wanted an answer.

He said it with a half-smile, hoping for a confession, a glimpse behind the mask.

Lillian just smiled and didn’t answer. Some things weren’t meant to be shared.

I’d always been good at keeping secrets. Some things weren’t meant to be shared.

That night, he was still a little unwilling, twirling her short hair between his fingers. "Lillian, I still like you with long hair."

His voice was soft, almost pleading. But I only shrugged, unwilling to give him what he wanted.

But for six years, I never gave in.

It became a silent standoff—my hair, my rules. He never pushed, but he never stopped hoping, either.

Back home, his daughter ran to Autumn, glanced behind them, and huffed, "I knew Lillian wouldn’t dare come back. Aunt Autumn, play with me." Maddie’s voice was sharp.

Maddie’s voice was sharp, petulant. She clung to Autumn’s hand, eyes darting toward the empty hallway.

The tutor followed, looking frazzled, and explained, "Mr. Ellison, Maddie had a lot of homework today." The tutor looked exhausted.

Her hair was coming loose from its bun, her face flushed with frustration. She shot Carter a pleading look, hoping he’d understand.

Carter, of course, knew that wasn’t the real reason. He could read between the lines.

He could read between the lines. Maddie had always been a handful, but lately, she was impossible.

Without Mrs. Ellison, the tutor just couldn’t keep his daughter in line. It was clear who ran the house.

It was clear who really ran the house. With me gone, the whole place felt off-balance.

He checked his watch. It was already 9:40—usually, Maddie would be asleep by now. Everything was different.

He frowned, realizing how much had changed in just a few weeks.

Sensing his displeasure, his daughter hid behind Autumn, who opened her arms to protect her, eyes reddening. Autumn played her part.

Autumn knelt down, pulling Maddie close. Her voice trembled, just enough to tug at Carter’s heartstrings.

"Brother-in-law, if you want to blame someone, blame me. I just felt sorry for Maddie and couldn’t help spoiling her a little." She looked up at him, tears shining.

She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes. The perfect picture of self-sacrifice.

Looking at the two aggrieved faces, Carter felt like something was stuck in his chest. He wanted to comfort them.

He wanted to comfort them, but the words wouldn’t come. The house felt colder, emptier, than ever.

"I’ve meddled too much, brother-in-law. I’d better go. If I leave, maybe my sister will come back," Autumn added. She gathered her purse.

Her voice was soft, hopeful. She gathered her purse, glancing at Maddie one last time.

"No need!" He snapped.

The word came out sharper than he intended. He turned away, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Carter stormed upstairs.

He took the steps two at a time, tie pulled loose, jacket slung over his shoulder. The silence was deafening.

He tugged at his tie and sat on the bed, lighting a cigarette. He needed something to do with his hands.

The smoke curled up toward the ceiling, filling the room with the scent of regret. He stared at the empty space beside him, wishing things were different.

He couldn’t understand why Lillian couldn’t, like Autumn, just soften a little and give Maddie the motherly love she deserved. Was it really so hard?

He replayed every argument, every cold glance. Was it really so hard to love a child? He didn’t understand.

Was it really that hard? He wanted it to be easy.

The question echoed in his mind, unanswered. He wanted so badly for things to be easy.

In just over a month, Autumn had done a great job. Everyone said so.

She’d won over the staff, the neighbors, even Maddie. Everyone said she was a natural. It stung more than he’d admit.

He’d tried, too. He really had.

He’d bought gifts, planned family outings, tried to bridge the gap. But nothing worked.

When they first got married, he thought Maddie was young enough. Young enough to build a mother-daughter bond.

He’d imagined bedtime stories, shared secrets, laughter echoing through the halls. Reality was colder.

But Lillian insisted his daughter only call her Aunt Lillian. She drew that line from day one.

She drew that line from day one. No matter how much he pushed, she never crossed it.

She said she’d be an elder—give Maddie care, not motherly love. Responsibility, not affection.

She meant it, too. She never missed a parent-teacher conference, never forgot a birthday. But there was always distance.

That day, they argued behind closed doors. The words were sharp.

The words were sharp, bitter. Old wounds bled anew.

Until Lillian, exhausted, said to him, "Carter, if I’d had a stepmom like me when I was a kid, I would have been so happy." Her voice broke.

Her voice broke on the last word. He realized, too late, how much she’d been carrying.

She sounded sad. Defeated.

He wanted to comfort her, but the words felt hollow. He pulled her close, hoping it would be enough.

He just held her. Never brought it up again.

But the silence between them grew heavier, day by day.

But after all those years, he got restless. Started thinking things shouldn’t be like this.

He’d started to resent the quiet, the order. He wanted chaos, laughter, real connection.

Carter turned on his phone and pulled up Lillian’s number. As expected, he was still blocked. The rejection stung.

He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over her name. The rejection stung, more than he’d admit.

He felt a wave of irritation. Nothing was working.

He tossed the phone onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. Nothing was working. Nothing made sense.

Mrs. Ellison had always been rational and calm. Why had she suddenly become so stubborn and willful? He didn’t get it.

He replayed their last conversation, searching for clues. He didn’t understand how things had unraveled so quickly.

He’d even asked Autumn to apologize to her, hadn’t he? He thought it would fix things.

He thought it would fix things. He was wrong.

He sat there, lost in thought. The cigarette burned down to his fingertips. That’s when he snapped out of it.

The pain jolted him back to reality. He crushed the butt in the ashtray, cursing under his breath.

Last resort. In the end, he called his mother-in-law in Silver Hollow.

Her number rang twice before she picked up, her voice cool and distant.

But his usually warm mother-in-law just said flatly: Lillian stayed one night. Then she left.

He tried to press for details, but she cut him off, her patience worn thin.

End of conversation. After saying this, she hung up on her own.

The dial tone was sharp, final. He stared at the phone, stunned.

Carter’s hand trembled a little. He realized what he’d lost.

He realized, finally, that he might have lost her for good.

He knew his wife wasn’t the type to air family matters unless it was absolutely necessary. She kept her pain private.

She kept her pain private, always. If she’d left, it was because she’d reached her breaking point.

Then he remembered that divorce agreement—it clearly hadn’t been drafted on the spot. His heart pounded. He realized she’d planned this.

He wondered how long she’d been planning this, how many signs he’d missed.

"Find Mrs. Ellison’s contact information right now. I’m waiting," he ordered his assistant, his voice even trembling.

He tried to sound in control, but the crack in his voice betrayed him. For the first time, he realized he was the one left behind.