They found her, the long-lost true heiress of the Blakely fortune, after two decades in the rough foster system. They saw a loud, defiant girl who "hired a gang" to attack the family's adopted daughter, Stella. So, they sent me away, to a high-security psychiatric facility, to be reformed. I returned, a blank slate in a plain white dress, my voice soft, my hair severely pulled back, confessing to a crime I didn't commit. They called it recovery, but in truth, it was a subtle form of torture, designed to break me, inflicted by the very people who should have welcomed me home. My "sister" Stella, with her perfected victim act, continued her sickening games, dropping my childhood keepsake in the trash, then faking an attack to have me banished to the freezing basement. My "brother" Matthew, the cold CEO, put me through demeaning tasks, all the while watching for any sign of the "madness" he believed I possessed, while Andrew, the one flicker of conscience, could only watch, paralyzed by guilt. What kind of family would do this to their own? But they had no idea who they were dealing with, or what I truly learned in that "reforming" facility. The docile girl they saw was merely a sophisticated weapon, quietly observing, meticulously planning, and waiting for the perfect moment to prove that their guilt would be their undoing.
They found her, the long-lost true heiress of the Blakely fortune, after two decades in the rough foster system.
They saw a loud, defiant girl who "hired a gang" to attack the family's adopted daughter, Stella.
So, they sent me away, to a high-security psychiatric facility, to be reformed.
I returned, a blank slate in a plain white dress, my voice soft, my hair severely pulled back, confessing to a crime I didn't commit.
They called it recovery, but in truth, it was a subtle form of torture, designed to break me, inflicted by the very people who should have welcomed me home.
My "sister" Stella, with her perfected victim act, continued her sickening games, dropping my childhood keepsake in the trash, then faking an attack to have me banished to the freezing basement.
My "brother" Matthew, the cold CEO, put me through demeaning tasks, all the while watching for any sign of the "madness" he believed I possessed, while Andrew, the one flicker of conscience, could only watch, paralyzed by guilt.
What kind of family would do this to their own?
But they had no idea who they were dealing with, or what I truly learned in that "reforming" facility.
The docile girl they saw was merely a sophisticated weapon, quietly observing, meticulously planning, and waiting for the perfect moment to prove that their guilt would be their undoing.
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