Gone From the World for Good

My mom held my hand as we stood outside the Anderson family estate villa.

Inside, the lights were bright. The party was lavish and loud.

In the middle of the hall, a girl about my age was being held in my dad's arms. My uncle was smiling as he placed a small diamond-studded crown on her head.

Sarah stood nearby with a camera, carefully documenting the moment. "Our little princess Fiona is eight years old today!"

Everyone was there to celebrate her birthday. Everyone adored her.

The warmth was inside. We had nothing.

My nose stung. I looked up at my mom and whimpered, "Mom, why doesn't Dad and Uncle celebrate my birthday? Is it because I'm a bad kid? Do they not like me?"

Tears filled my mom's eyes in an instant. She gently touched my head. "No, Lily. They're the ones who don't deserve to like us."

My uncle happened to turn his head. He spotted us.

His face darkened, and he walked over quickly. "What are you doing here? Standing at the door with a sour face—who are you trying to scare?"

My mom's expression was caught somewhere between a cry and a laugh. "So, Evan, you knew about all of this too?"

My uncle let out a cold snort and looked away. "Sarah spent eight years married to David in secret for your sake. And now, you want to ruin her daughter's birthday party?"

For once, my mom didn't grab his sleeve and scream, "I'm your sister! Why are you always on her side?"

She dropped her head. Her face was eerily calm.

My uncle's eyes flickered with surprise, but his voice stayed hard and cold. "I don't care if this is an act or if you've actually come to your senses. Just behave yourself."

My mom's thin shoulders sagged. A hollow smile slowly tugged at her lips. "I hear you. I'm not going to cause a scene."

My uncle shot us a cold glance and said firmly, "Come inside. Don't just stand at the door. It'll make people talk."

Inside, the heat was blasting, but I felt freezing cold.

My dad didn't come over. He stayed patiently with Fiona, finishing her birthday ceremony.

Only after it was over did he casually walk up to us. There was no guilt on his face.

"Since you already know the truth, I'm not going to hide it anymore. I've been exhausted by all this pretending. If it weren't for that ridiculous excuse you gave me, I would have left you years ago and been with Sarah."

I remember my mom telling me that eight years ago, she was the one who brought Sarah—a poor student she was sponsoring—into our home.

Ever since I was little, my mom would say to me, "Your aunt Sarah had such a hard childhood. We need to be good to her."

Sarah's parents favored boys over girls. Her body was covered in scars. There wasn't a single spot of unmarked skin.

My mom felt sorry for her. Sarah had no one. So my mom gave her everything—her heart, her home. She even made me call Sarah my godmother.

Back then, Sarah's eyes had glistened with tears. Her voice was sincere and emotional. "Claire, Lily—you two are my family."

But this woman, who called us her family, had stolen my dad. She had stolen everyone from us.

Sarah walked over, pretending to be warm and friendly. "Lily, come here. Come to Godmom."

Her hand closed around my wrist. Suddenly, her fingernails dug deep into my skin.

The pain was so sharp I couldn't help but scream. On pure instinct, I shoved her hard.

Sarah stumbled backward, shrieked, and fell to the ground. Her eyes went red in an instant. "Claire, I know I shouldn't have done this to you. But you can't control your feelings! How could you—how could you use Lily to get back at me?"

My mom saw the ugly red marks on my wrist. Furious, she raised her hand to hit Sarah.

But the next second, my uncle grabbed her arm. "Claire, how dare you!"

Without hesitation, he raised his hand and brought a slap down hard across my mom's face.