Chapter 2
Dad stared at her hand resting on her stomach like he couldn't breathe.
"You're… sure?" he stammered.
Karen nodded, eyes glistening—but I knew by now when she was acting.
"I found out this morning," she said softly. "I was going to tell you tonight. But your daughter… she hates me. She hates everything I bring to this family."
She turned to me, voice sharp and triumphant.
"You see? Now I carry your brother. A real heir. And you—you'll be nothing but a guest in this house. A guest I can ask to leave whenever I choose."
Dad stood there, torn. He looked at Aiden’s bruised arm. Then at Karen. Then at me.
"I need time to think," he said, his voice hollow. "Everyone… go to their rooms."
"Dad—" I started.
"Go, Olivia," he said, not looking at me.
I took Aiden’s hand and led him upstairs.
That night, I lay awake listening. I heard Karen’s voice rising and falling in the bedroom below. Soft sobbing. Then gentle tones. Then silence.
By morning, the dynamic had shifted.
Dad was careful. Quiet. Walking on eggshells. Karen moved slowly, one hand always resting on her stomach, wearing a look of quiet entitlement.
May you like
She didn't yell anymore. She didn't have to.
Every time she sighed, every time she winced, every time she said "I just need rest…" Dad looked at me like I was the problem.
