Chapter 8 - The Shattered Mirror
The world seemed to spin off its axis.
I stared at Agnes’s signature on the custody transfer form, the black ink burning into my retinas. Everything I thought I knew about my return, my safety, and the few people I had trusted was crumbling into ash.
"She played you," Delilah mocked, her voice filled with dark triumph. "She acted like your protector at the party to get rid of me, because I found out about her brother. She knew if I stayed in that house, I’d eventually use it against her."
I pushed out of the booth, knocking my cup of water onto the table.
"Where are you going, Rory?" Delilah called out, her voice echoing over the hum of the diner's kitchen. "Back to your empty mansion? Back to the people who traded you for stock options?"
I didn't answer. I slammed open the diner door and ran out into the pouring rain.
The fog was thick, swallowing the city streets in a ghost-like haze. My chest heaved as I ran toward the bus stop, my mind racing in chaotic circles.
Agnes had taken me. Agnes had hidden me. The woman who gave me warm tea and soft words had spent seven years watching my parents grieve—or pretend to grieve—while holding the key to my imprisonment.
And my voice... the dangerous, terrifying curse that had stayed locked inside me for years... it was boiling.
The heat in my throat wasn't just a ember now; it was a raging inferno. The betrayal was too deep, too absolute. My body shook with the sheer effort of keeping my mouth closed. If I screamed right now, I felt like I would tear the very air around me to pieces.
I reached the gates of the Charles estate an hour later, drenched to the bone, mud clinging to my jeans.
I marched up the front steps, threw open the heavy oak doors, and walked straight into the main hall.
"Agnes!" I didn't shout the name—I couldn't—but I slammed my hand against the mahogany wall so hard the frame of a Victorian painting crashed to the floor.
Dad emerged from the study, looking startled. "Rory? Where have you been? You're soaked—"
I didn't look at him. I walked past him, straight down the hallway to the servants' quarters at the rear of the house.
Agnes was there. She was standing near a small table, packing the last of her personal belongings into a cardboard box. She turned when I slammed the door open.
She saw the paper in my hand. She saw the raw, wild fury in my eyes.
The old woman didn't look surprised. She didn't look angry. She just looked incredibly, profoundly sad.
She set down a small porcelain teacup she was holding and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"You found the transfer form," Agnes said softly.
May you like
I held up the paper, my hand trembling violently. I grabbed my phone, but my fingers were shaking too much to type. I shoved the paper into her face, my breath coming in ragged, whistling gasps.
"I didn't take you to hurt you, Rory," Agnes said, her voice cracking with an emotion I couldn't decipher. "I took you to save your life."
