The day after Emma was thrown out, the Hamilton estate felt oddly quiet. Miriam was in high spirits, celebrating her success in ousting Emma, while the rest of the family remained in a tense silence. Life in the mansion went on as usual, though a strange emptiness seemed to linger in the air.
In the late afternoon, a maid was assigned to clean the small, neglected room that had once been Emma's. It was a storage room in all but name, filled with old furniture, dusty boxes, and the remnants of a childhood long forgotten. As she swept the floor near the bed, her broom hit something solid under the mattress. Curious, she crouched down and pulled out an old, worn notebook, its cover faded and edges frayed.
The maid frowned, flipping through a few pages. Realizing it was Emma's diary, she hesitated, considering whether to throw it away. After all, Emma was no longer a part of the household. But just as she was about to toss it into the trash, the door creaked open.
Standing there was Samuel Hamilton, Emma's second brother. "What are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharp.
Startled, the maid stammered, "I-I was just cleaning, sir. I found this under the bed and thought it was just some old rubbish..."
Samuel's gaze zeroed in on the notebook. Without a word, he snatched it from the maid's hands and flipped through the pages. His initial irritation faded as he realized what he was holding. It was Emma's diary—filled with her most private thoughts, emotions, and the small, fleeting moments that had meant so much to her.
At first, Samuel skimmed through it out of mere curiosity. But as he read on, his expression softened. The entries weren't what he expected. Instead of the rebellious, difficult sister he had always assumed Emma to be, he found the words of a lonely, misunderstood girl who had clung to the tiniest moments of kindness in an otherwise cold, harsh world.
One passage in particular caught his attention:
"Today, I saw Henry in the hallway. He smiled at me, and though we only exchanged a few words, it was enough to make my whole week. I know they don't like me much, but I'm happy whenever I get the chance to talk to him. I wish they could see that all I want is to be part of the family… to belong."
Samuel's eyes misted over as he continued reading, each word cutting deeper into his heart. He had never imagined that Emma had thought so highly of him, had cherished such brief, insignificant interactions. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek, but he quickly brushed it away, trying to maintain his composure.
The reality of the situation hit him hard. Emma had never been the spoiled brat they all thought she was. Instead, she was a girl who had been forced to grow up in a household that resented her, a girl who had longed for acceptance but had only found rejection at every turn.
Henry stood in the middle of the small, shabby room, his eyes taking in the details for the first time. The walls were bare, the furniture old and worn, and the air heavy with neglect. He couldn't believe that his sister had been living here for years, in conditions so vastly different from the rest of the mansion's opulence. This room was more of a prison than a bedroom, and yet it was the only place Emma had known as home.
His gaze fell on the small tray by the bed, holding a simple, untouched breakfast. The food was cold, unappetizing—hardly a meal fit for anyone, let alone his sister. He felt a deep pang of guilt. How had he never noticed? How had he been so blind?
He turned to the maid, who was still standing in the doorway, unsure of what to do. "Did she really live like this?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
The maid nodded, her own eyes reflecting a bit of sympathy. "Yes, sir. Miss Emma never complained. She just... kept to herself."
Samuel couldn't shake the image of Emma's small, frail form huddled in this room, her only comfort the thoughts she had poured into that notebook. A wave of shame washed over him. All these years, he had failed to see his sister for who she truly was. And now, it was too late.
Finally, he closed the notebook and held it tightly to his chest, as if it were a lifeline to the sister he never truly knew. "I need to be alone," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.
The maid bowed her head and quietly left the room, leaving Samuel standing there in the suffocating silence. He took one last look around the room, the weight of his realization pressing heavily on him.
He left the room in a daze, clutching the notebook as he made his way to his study. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumbled mess of regret and confusion. How had they all been so wrong? And what could he do now?
As he sat down at his desk, Samuel opened the notebook again, determined to read every word, to understand the sister he had lost. For the first time in his life, he felt a burning need to protect Emma, to make things right. But deep down, he knew that the damage had already been done. Emma was gone, cast out into the world with nothing and no one.
Samuel wiped his eyes and made a decision. He couldn't undo the past, but he could try to make amends. He needed to find Emma, to bring her back and give her the life she deserved—the life they had all denied her. And perhaps, in doing so, he could find some redemption for himself as well.
But as he looked at the open notebook on his desk, a gnawing fear crept into his heart. What if it was too late? What if Emma was beyond saving?
With a deep sigh, he closed the notebook and rested his head in his hands, the weight of his guilt and sorrow almost too much to bear.
"Emma," he whispered to the empty room, "I'm so sorry…"