Emilia
The air is thick with tension as I stand in the grand, darkened hallway, watching the back of my stepmother's cold, calculating figure. The last few hours have felt like a whirlwind, each moment pulling me deeper into a game I never agreed to play, a game where the stakes are higher than I could have ever imagined.
My stepmother has just presented her demands, laying them out like a contract—one that's both simple and terrifying in its audacity. She wants money. A lot of money. A sum that could buy her silence about all the skeletons hidden in my family's closet, the secrets that I thought were long buried.
But it's more than just money she's after. She's after control. She's after power.
I can't help the bitterness that rises in my throat as I think about it. She never cared about me. She never cared about my well-being or my future. She only ever cared about herself, about how much she could extract from the situation.
