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No, I am a Garrison!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "This is my family, and I am a Garrison. And my mother is not dead. Christabell is my mother!"
I looked to Christabell, hoping for some sign of affection or support, but she stared at me with anger, her eyes hard and unyielding.
She pointed her hand at me, her face twisted with disgust. "How dare you call me your mother? Do you think I would give birth to a filthy rat like you? You disgust me. If you want to meet your mother, you can go back to hell. Daughter of a whore. You are a constant reminder of Jerry's betrayal," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You don't belong here."
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Years passed, seventeen to be exact, and the cold treatment I received from Christabell only grew worse. I was isolated, shunned by the family I so desperately wanted to be part of. The other family members followed Christabell's lead, treating me as if I were invisible, or worse, a stain on their perfect lives.
At family parties, I was never invited, my presence deemed unnecessary and unwanted. The dining table at family dinners never had a place set for me; I ate alone in my room, the echo of laughter and conversation a constant reminder of my exclusion. The name "bastard" became an official title, whispered behind my back and sometimes even to my face. The maids, following the household's example, showed me no respect, treating me with disdain or outright ignoring me.
But there was one exception.
Ivan was my half-brother, younger by three years, and completely unaware of the family dynamics that defined my existence. To him, I was just his sister, the one who cared for him and played with him. He didn't see me as the bastard child; he saw me as a big sister.
Ivan and I shared the same dream: to become Guardians. We spent countless hours in the training grounds, honing our skills and pushing each other to be better. Ivan's powers developed quickly; he was a natural with fire, his control and strength impressive for his age. But I was more powerful, a fact that didn't escape the notice of Christabell. She hated seeing me excel, hated the way Ivan looked up to me.
Christabell, my stepmother, was adamant that I should not be allowed to pursue my dream of becoming a Guardian. She feared that if I achieved greatness, it would overshadow Ivan and bring unwanted attention to the family. Despite her own status as an S-rank Guardian, she couldn't bear the thought of me earning respect and recognition.
One evening, I was called to the family hall. The grand mansion's hall was filled with ornate furniture and tapestries depicting our family's history. My father, Jerry, sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Christabell stood beside him, her face twisted with a mix of anger and determination. The rest of the family, including my aunts, uncles, and cousins, were gathered, their eyes fixed on me with varying degrees of disdain.
Christabell was trying to convince Jerry to forbid me from becoming a Guardian. "She will betray us, Jerry," she insisted, her voice sharp. "If she becomes powerful and rich, she will bring nothing but disgrace to our family."
I stood in the center of the hall, feeling the weight of their judgment. At seventeen, I wore a simple white dress, its delicate fabric contrasting sharply with the dark atmosphere of the room. My long, brown hair was neatly braided, and I clasped my hands together, trying to hold back my tears.
"But what are you saying?" Jerry's calm voice was a stark contrast to the tension in the room.
"I'm saying she's a threat to our family's reputation!" Christabell shouted, her face red with anger. "She's a bastard, and you know how people will talk if she becomes successful. They will say she's better than Ivan, better than our own blood."
Jerry's eyes hardened. "She is my daughter and she has my blood. I decide for her, not you."
Silence fell over the room, the air thick with unspoken words. Christabell's face twisted with fury. "You are a disgrace of a husband!" she spat. "You never appreciate Ivan as your son since he is A-rank. You love your bastard daughter more than your own son!" Jerry gave Christabell a slap on her cheeks that echoed through the hall. She held her cheeks, her eyes watery, filled with tears and shock.
She couldn't utter any words, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Shut your mouth, woman!" Jerry said, his voice firm. With that, she stormed out of the hall, slamming the door behind her.
Everyone was quiet, the tension palpable. I stood there, tears streaming down my face, feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow. My father had defended me for the first time in my life.
After that day, Ivan and I continued our training with renewed determination. We shared a dream to become Guardians, and no amount of hatred or disdain from Christabell could deter us. "I'll always be here for you, Ivan," I would tell him after our training sessions, ruffling his hair. "No matter what."
One summer evening, when I was eighteen and Ivan fourteen, the tension in the house reached its peak. We were in the training grounds, sparring as usual, when Christabell approached, her face twisted with anger.
"Rebecca," she snapped. "Come with me."
I followed her, dread pooling in my stomach. She led me to Jerry's study, where he sat behind his desk, looking weary.
"Rebecca," he said, sighing heavily, "we've decided you need to leave for a while. There's an elite Guardian academy overseas. It will be good for you to get away."
I knew what this was. They wanted to get rid of me, to distance themselves from the constant reminder of their shame. But I couldn't refuse. I had no choice.
"I'll go," I said quietly. "But I'll be back for Ivan's birthday."
Jerry nodded, not meeting my eyes. Christabell looked relieved, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
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The decision to send me away was a calculated move by Christabell. She hoped that by removing me from Ivan's life, she could solidify her control over him and ensure that I wouldn't overshadow her son.
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