From Pantry To MIT: Their Regret
Chapter 3
Catrina POV
My declaration echoed in the heavy silence, carrying an undeniable power. Cordell' s face, usually composed, contorted in a mixture of shock and sheer indignation. It wasn' t the pain in my voice that stunned him, but the audacity of my public defiance. He hated scenes, hated anything that threatened the immaculate image of the Corbett dynasty.
"Catrina, get back inside!" Dona shrieked, her voice piercing the night. Her face was a mask of fury, her carefully applied makeup unable to conceal the raw anger beneath.
"We are not family, Dona," I reiterated, my voice calm, almost meditative. The contrast to her hysteria was stark. "And there will be no more squabbles. My purpose here was merely to retrieve my belongings and bid you farewell. I' m done discussing anything with you."
I took a step back, my gaze sweeping over the group one last time. Angelique stood there, pale and trembling, her eyes wide with a fear I found deeply satisfying. She should be afraid. Her carefully constructed world was crumbling, and I was the architect of its demise.
"I hereby publicly and irrevocably sever all ties, legal and emotional, with the Corbett family," I announced, each word cutting through the quiet night. "I am not your daughter, nor your sister. I seek no inheritance, no financial compensation, and no claim to your name or your legacy. From this day forward, we are strangers. I will never acknowledge you, and I demand you cease all attempts to contact me."
I didn' t wait for a response. I turned, picked up the old, faded backpack that held all of my worldly possessions, and slung it over my shoulder. It felt impossibly light, a testament to the emotional baggage I was finally shedding. I didn't look back. I strode away from the opulent mansion, across the perfectly manicured lawns, and out onto the street. The night air, crisp and cold, was a welcome relief. It seemed to scrub away the lingering scent of their hypocrisy, leaving me feeling clean, untainted.
For the first time in my life, I felt a profound sense of freedom. But as the adrenaline began to recede, a cold, hollow ache settled in my chest. I was free, yes, but also acutely alone. All my life, I had longed for a family, for belonging. Now, I had deliberately, definitively, severed that last, tortured connection. The Corbetts were a closed chapter, a toxic memory I was determined to bury.
Yet, a sharper, more insidious pain lingered. Not from them, but from Asher. The one who had been my friend, my confidant, my supposed ally. He had been my anchor in the storm, the only one who seemed to understand. He was the one who hurt the most, because his betrayal had been so unexpected, so absolute. I had saved him once. I had thought he would save me.
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