Chapter 2
I once asked–why not change back to my real surname?
Dad agreed, but James and Philip didn’t.
“Clara Stone sounds fine. Names don’t matter.”
Back then, I believed them.
Now I understand–they simply didn’t want to change it.
They were using this subtle yet obvious way to tell all of New York’s elite circles that Lydia was the only family member they truly acknowledged.
And I was just an outsider.
But I don’t care anymore.
When I push open the door, the room fills with laughter and joy.
[ames and Philip both wear smiles–relaxed and cheerful, showing none of the anxiety they’d displayed on the phone
moments ago.
Lydia coos in that sweet, practiced voice of hers.
The moment she sees me, she throws herself into Philip’s arms like it’s perfectly choreographed.
Her long, shapely thighs wrap tightly around his waist.
‘Philip, I’m so scared… Clara’s going to kick me out, isn’t she?”
[ames speaks first: “Don’t worry, Lydia. She doesn’t have that authority. As long as I’m here, this will always be your home.”
Lydia gets the answer she wanted. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction.
Suddenly, I realize–this isn’t her first time flipping the script.
The year I was brought back to the Grant family, Lydia held me and cried in front of everyone, playing the perfect sister and winning all of New York’s admiration.
But the moment the bedroom door closed behind us, she slapped me hard across the face.
I hit the floor. Before I could even stand up, she screamed and rushed out:
“Clara hates me! She said I stole her place and told me to get lost!”
Chapter
James furiously threw all my suitcases down the stairs.
Philip said nothing, but he ordered the servants to deep–clean every room I’d touched.
I stood alone in the courtyard while the maids circled me, spraying disinfectant–like I was some kind of virus.
From the balcony, they looked down at me–their expressions treating me like… a pile of garbage.
When I snap back to the present, Philip sighs and starts to comfort Lydia. Only then does he notice me standing in the doorway.
His pupils contract sharply. Then he pretends to stay calm and pulls Lydia off him.
“Clara, you’re back. How are you feeling today?”
As usual, he raises his hand to touch my face.
But I instinctively turn away.
Philip’s hand freezes mid–air.
He stares at me for several seconds, his expression unreadable.
Lydia walks toward me, her voice trembling just right.
“Clara… coming back was my decision. Don’t blame your brother and Philip–it’s not their fault.”
I open my mouth to respond–but don’t get the chance.
Philip and James immediately step in front of her like bodyguards.
Like I’m the threat.
James’s tone turns harsh: “Lydia had nowhere to stay when she returned. Her being here won’t affect you.”
Philip backs him up, frowning just like three years ago.
“Clara, this has always been Lydia’s home.”
Their words always favor Lydia–even after she betrayed them again and again.
Even though I tried countless times to explain about that slap.
But no one believed me.
No one would truly blame her.
The three of them form a sealed circle-
Chapt
Tight, untouchable, and completely closed off to anyone outside.
No matter how hard I tried, I was never allowed in.
But honestly, I don’t care anymore.
Lydia’s excited, hoping I’ll react like before–crying, screaming, breaking down.
But under their tense, expectant gazes…
I just say “Oh.”
Then I turn and walk away.
They freeze in place.
I don’t fight like they expected. I don’t cry.
I simply accept it all with calm indifference.
Philip stares at me for two seconds, shakes off Lydia who’s still trying to cling to him, and follows me into the bedroom.
