Chapter 2

"Breath, Diane..." I whispered to myself. If I break down now, it will give those motherfuckers a fill, and that is what they want.

I wiped my tears as I walked into my office—no, not mine anymore. Damn! I took my time to make this space fit me, to make it my taste, and now it’s going to be Amanda’s. Come to think of it, that bitch has always cried after everything I own.

Such a shameless person.

I walked in, my heels clicking against the floor, my chest tightening as I scanned the room. My desk was cleared, my files gone, my laptop missing. Just a few scattered folders remained, none of them mine. They didn’t even have the fucking decency to wait until I was fully out before erasing me from this place.

I clenched my jaw and turned on my heels. I refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry again. Not today.

The drive home was slow, not because of traffic but because my hands were gripping the steering wheel too tight, my thoughts running too wild. The car seemed to be the only thing I still owned in my name. Everything else? Snatched away like it never belonged to me.

It’s still so fucking unbelievable that Mike did this to me.

As I parked in front of the house, my fingers trembled on the ignition. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the moment I stepped out, my feet froze.

No.

I blinked.

Maybe my eyes were messing with me. Maybe I was just seeing things.

But no.

Amanda and Mike.

Walking hand in hand.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my blood turning cold. The audacity. The fucking nerve.

"What the heck is the meaning of this, both of you?" I shot them a sharp look as they advanced toward me, like they hadn’t just ripped my life apart. "Why are my boxes outside?" I barked as I approached Mike, my voice sharp and unwavering despite the turmoil inside me.

Mike didn’t even look fazed. Asshole.

"Oh, today makes it three weeks as agreed, Sis, so I had the workers put your things safely here," Amanda responded, her voice so sickeningly sweet it made my stomach churn.

I took a deep breath, my fists clenching at my sides. I didn’t have the strength to argue with them right now. I had cried so much in that fucking conference room that it felt like I might faint. My body was exhausted, my emotions drained.

But as I glanced at my stuff, something wasn’t right.

I bent down, rummaging through the bags, my stomach twisting. "But these aren’t all my things. My shoes, jewelry, all of that—where the fuck are they?" I demanded, my voice rising.

Amanda smirked. "Everything Mike bought you belongs to me now," she slurred, tilting her head like she was fucking proud of herself.

I stared at her, and then, out of nowhere, a laugh bubbled up from my chest. It was bitter, hollow, and caught both of them off guard.

"Oh, Amanda," I said, shaking my head, the laughter dying into something cold. "It seems you can't have anything that is fully yours. Everything you own is second-hand, used by me. Even people." My gaze shifted to Mike, whose brows drew together.

Amanda’s smirk twitched. "You bitch! What do you mean by that?" she snapped, stepping closer. "Mike will get me new ones too. Babe, isn’t that so?" She turned to Mike, her eyes wide, her voice dripping with manipulation.

Mike sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah, whatever. I’ll buy you new ones," he muttered.

I almost pitied her.

Almost.

But standing here, watching them together, all I felt was relief.

Mike wasn’t worth my love. He never was.

I didn’t say another word. I simply grabbed my stuff, shoved it into my car, and drove off without looking back.

---

The drive way was slower than usual, as I let the glasses down the wind blew the corner of my face, tears I was holding up til that moment began to pour. My heart ached  as if being hammered repeatedly.

"Argh, ugh" I chocked out, I hit my chest as if to ease the pain inside and the cry left my mouth, I cried so loud but I didn't care, there was nobody here anyway. It's better to let it all out.

I cried so much my head hurts, I continued to drive till I got to my father's house, after Dad's death the house became an ice, completely hated by Amanda's mother.

I knew what I was walking into but what met me was unbelievable.

The second I stepped out of the car, the front door flew open with a bang.

And there she was.

My stepmother.

"Take those damn things out of my house! Don’t bring your bad luck in here!" she shrieked, her voice cutting through the air like a fucking blade.

I froze, my nails digging into my palms.

"Mum, it's my house too," I shot back, my voice sharp, but my body felt weak. "My father’s house."

She laughed. A cruel, bitter sound. "Mum?" she mocked, stepping forward, her eyes filled with venom. "Look at me well, girl. Do I look like that miserable wench?" She barked, bringing her face so close I could see the hate etched in every wrinkle.

My fists clenched.

Fuck.

I wanted to break something. I wanted to scream. I wanted to set this whole fucking place on fire.

But I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

"I knew you hated me. You waited until my father died before showing it," I said, my voice low, trembling. "Well, a lot happened today, so please, I just want to go to my room and rest."

I could barely stand. My legs felt like jelly. My head was spinning. I crouched slightly, trying to steady myself.

But she wasn’t done.

"I said leave before I throw you out myself!" she spat, and before I could respond, she slammed the door shut.

The loud click echoed in my ears.

Locked.

Shut out.

Thrown away like trash.

It was official.

I had nowhere left to go.