Chapter 8: Out of the Shadows

In the room, Derek leaned against the doorframe, gave me a cold look, and said:

He crossed his arms, voice tight. The doting uncle was gone—only the stern guardian remained.

“I’ve had Mrs. Carter tidy up the guest room on the first floor. For now, you can stay downstairs.”

His tone brooked no argument. I felt the sting of being displaced, but kept my head high.

I didn’t say anything, just folded my clothes and put them in my suitcase. When I habitually reached for the doll by my bedside—

My fingers brushed the soft yarn hair, the painted smile. Old instincts warred with new resolve.

My hand paused.

It hovered above the doll, heart pounding. The silence was thick, every movement magnified.

Derek’s gaze fell on the doll. Seeing me hesitate, he said, “I’ll bring the doll down for you later.”

His voice softened, almost apologetic. For a moment, I saw the man who told me bedtime stories.

I took a deep breath, withdrew my hand, and forced a smile: “No need. Give it to Natalie.”

Even Derek—I don’t want him anymore.

Letting go was like twisting a knife in my chest. But I kept my chin up, refusing to show weakness.

What are a few dolls worth?

They were just things, relics of a childhood I was finally ready to leave behind.

What was once real, now means nothing.

I realized love, once so real, could vanish in an instant. The room, the dolls, Derek’s affection—all faded to memory.

“Aubrey, are you still mad at me?” Derek asked coldly.

His tone was harsher than I expected, full of frustration. He hated losing control.

“Why would I be mad at Uncle Derek?” I shot back. “Uncle Derek has his own life now. You have someone you want to protect. I should be happy for you, right?”

My voice was sugar-sweet, but my hands shook. I met his eyes, daring him to call my bluff.

Derek’s eyes darkened, lips parting, but nothing came out for a long moment—a silence that made the pain land, sharp as glass.

When I pulled my suitcase to leave—

The wheels squeaked on the floor, final as a slammed door.

Natalie was waiting just outside, her gaze tinged with ridicule.

She sat there, composed, her eyes sharp despite the tears. I recognized the look—a winner surveying her spoils.

Just like before—always acting innocent, always targeting me, crying at the slightest disagreement.

She had a way of drawing sympathy, of making herself seem smaller than she was. But underneath, there was a steeliness I knew all too well.

A weak person’s tears always win sympathy so easily.

I’d seen it a hundred times—at school, at charity galas. Some people are born knowing how to play the victim.

“Aubrey, I’m sorry for all the drama.”

Her words were polite, but the edge was clear. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“If it weren’t for my inconvenience, Derek wouldn’t have had to do this.”

Her voice trembled just enough to sound sincere. My grip tightened on the suitcase.

I wanted to walk past her and leave, but she suddenly grabbed my wrist. I reflexively shook her off.

The touch was icy, unexpected. I reacted before I could think, shaking her hand off harder than I meant.

“Ah—”

Her cry was piercing, freezing everyone in earshot. Time slowed as her wheelchair jerked forward.

Natalie’s wheelchair lost control and rolled toward the stairs. Her scream echoed through the house, staff rushing over in panic.

“Derek, save me, save me—”

Her voice was shrill, slicing through the air. Panic flared in Derek’s eyes as he lunged forward.

He rushed out of the room, shoving me aside, grabbing the armrest just in time to stop the chair from tipping.

The hallway exploded into chaos. Derek’s hands clamped onto the chair, muscles straining. I couldn’t breathe.

My heart was pounding, my mind flashing through every worst-case scenario—accusations, police, headlines, death by a thousand cuts. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my phone. Still, I stood frozen, my throat tight: “It wasn’t me.”

My voice cracked, desperate to be heard over the chaos. No one was listening.

The wheelchair was stuck on the stairs, several staff members blocking the way.

One of the housekeepers—Janine, who used to sneak me cookies—stood in front of the door, her jaw set, not meeting my eyes. My pulse thudded in my ears.

Derek hurriedly scooped Natalie into his arms, storming over to me, face pale with fear and fury. The staff trailed behind, exchanging worried glances.

They helped move the wheelchair, careful not to jostle her. The air was thick with accusation.

“Derek, I was scared to death.”

Natalie’s voice trembled, eyes wide and wet. She clung to Derek, as if only he could keep her safe.

“I thought I was going to die...” Her eyes were red, the fear impossible to fake. She looked so small, so helpless. Everyone leaned in to comfort her—comfort I never got.

After Derek calmed her down, he turned to me, face cold with anger.

His fury was measured—the kind that hurts more than shouting ever could.

“Aubrey Reed, are you out of your mind?”

His words hit like a slap. I recoiled, stunned by the venom.

“If something had happened to Natalie, you’d be suspected of assault. Do you get that?”

He spoke with the authority of a judge, not a guardian. My heart raced—this wasn’t just a family fight. This was a threat.