Blood and Inheritance

Late that night, the company group chat blew up. Word had spread that I had returned to the country. Everyone was speculating that I’d returned to clean house at the firm.

After all, two years ago, when the company was at its peak, I had suddenly stepped away, retreating abroad to recover. I hadn’t set foot back since.

For those two years, my mind never strayed far from Lila. I ignored every message from the executives. The moment my plane landed, my heart was set. I rushed straight home.

By the time I arrived, it was already deep into the night. Lila had just come back from work.

Overjoyed, I grabbed her hand, only to feel the calluses covering her palms. They were rough and hardened, nothing like the hands a girl her age should have.

She threw her arms around me, her voice trembling. "Mom, you’re not leaving again, right? You’ll stay this time? You’ll stay home with me?"

My chest tightened. She was twenty now, a grown woman, but she clung to me like a frightened child. The light in her eyes was timid, her voice subdued. Gone was the lively girl I remembered.

I led her outside, wanting to surprise her. However, as soon as we stepped into the yard, she began trembling like a startled animal.

I pulled the cover off a limited-edition motorcycle, something I’d bought just for her. Instead of joy, her face stayed blank, dull, without the faintest spark of excitement.

I remembered how obsessed she’d been with motorcycles as a little girl, so different from the other kids. How could two years have changed her so completely?

A lump rose in my throat.

"Lila, tell me. What really happened these past two years?"

Before she could answer, the front gate swung open with a loud clang. Serena pulled into the driveway, driving with such arrogance you’d think she owned the house.

Her eyes landed immediately on the motorcycle, lighting up. "Mom! You’re back! Wow, you even brought me such an amazing gift!" She moved to climb on.

I blocked her. "This isn’t for you. It’s for Lila."

Serena just laughed, all bright and shameless. "We’re sisters. Why make a distinction? Isn’t that right, Lila?"

Lila ducked her head and stayed silent, wordless. Instead, she picked up a bucket and began washing Serena’s car.

Stunned, I stared, then grabbed her hand. "What are you doing? Washing a car? That’s for the staff. Or send it to a shop. Why should you be the one scrubbing it?"

"Mom, it’s fine. I’m used to it." Her voice was muffled and flat.

By the time I looked back, Serena was already gone, speeding off on the motorcycle, its engine roaring into the night.

My fists clenched tight. Lila moved lifelessly like a puppet on strings.

Once, whenever I came home, she’d chatter endlessly, sharing everything with me. Now she said nothing about herself. On the flip side, there was Serena and her entitled, casual claim over Lila’s things. It was terribly odd.

I swore to myself I would get to the bottom of this.

That night, I went to Lila’s room and lay beside her, wanting to keep her company.

"Why didn’t you go to college?" I asked softly. "You got into the school you always dreamed of. I never imagined you’d give it up. Did something happen?"

She clutched the blanket tight, turning her head away. "I just don’t like crowds. I want to be alone."

Her words baffled me.

Lila had always loved company. She’d had a circle of friends as wide as the sun. Since when did she want to hide in silence? It made no sense.

Halfway through the night, Serena stormed back in. The motorcycle tore across the courtyard like a wild beast, crashing the gates open with a deafening bang. Lila jolted upright in terror.

I rushed to pat her back, murmuring to soothe her.

She was hypersensitive to sound, I realized, and the pieces clicked uneasily in my mind.

I searched online. Patients with anxiety disorders often reacted just like this—startled by noise, easily frightened, and haunted by memories.

Even so, through all this, Adrian had never breathed a word to me.