Chapter 88: Vanesa's View
She sat alone in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Her fingers traced the curve of her nose, the one her mother had ordered fixed when she was just sixteen.
It wasn't her decision.
Beatrice had looked at her one day, smiled sweetly, and said, "Darling, you will thank me for this when you're older."
Vanesa had cried that night.
She hadn't wanted her face altered.
But Beatrice didn't listen.
She rarely did when she was in one of her moods.
On good days, her mother was warm, affectionate, and almost doting.
She'd hold Vanesa's hand, call her "my beautiful little doll," and tell her she was the only one who truly mattered.
Those moments were rare, but Vanesa clung to them. They were the only times she felt loved.
But then, there were the other days.
The cold ones.
The ones where Beatrice looked at her like she was a piece of art that had cracked.
