The Heiress They Exiled Chapter 04

The Heiress They Exiled Chapter 04

I stand on the beach, not knowing how much time has passed, until the sky over the sea slowly turns gray.

My phone vibrates at that moment.

Hurricane warning.

I lower my eyes to the screen, and for a moment, my fingertips go numb.

This is the kind of weather I fear most at Stonebridge too.

The windows of the disciplinary building always rattle violently in the wind, and the instructors would throw me inside for the entire night until my voice was hoarse from screaming.

I pick up my phone and call my mother. It takes several rings before she answers.

I try to make my voice sound calm, even polite.

“Mom, it looks like a hurricane is coming to the island. If it’s not too much trouble, could you send someone to pick me up?”

I speak softly, as though I’m asking for a favor that doesn’t really belong to me.

Because Stonebridge teaches me that when you ask someone for something, you can’t make them feel inconvenienced or offended.

There is a two-second silence on the other end before my father’s voice comes through.

“Harper, when are you going to stop?”

My grip on the phone tightens.

My father’s voice is ice-cold, “Three years at that school, and all you learned was how to play the victim? You made everyone uncomfortable in front of the entire family just now, and now you’re using a hurricane as an excuse to make everyone run around after you again?”

I open my mouth, but my throat feels tightly blocked.

I want to tell him it’s not an excuse. The sky really is getting darker, and the wind really is getting stronger.

But I don’t dare explain, because at school, explaining is always considered talking back. The more I say, the harsher the punishment becomes.

My father continues, “I don’t think you’ve learned anything at all. Aren’t you the one who’s so obsessed with boundaries? Aren’t you the one who knows exactly when to back off? Then stay on the island by yourself and think carefully about what you did wrong.”

Then Graham’s voice comes through.

Unlike my father’s anger, his tone is more impatient.

“I’ll come get you when you actually admit what you did wrong and stop making everyone’s life miserable.”

I stand in the sea wind without saying anything for a long time.

They seem to be waiting for me to cry, throw a tantrum, demand an explanation, or beg them like I used to.

But I do none of those things. I simply hang up.

A teacher once tells me that when you ask for something, you only get one chance. Once you’ve been refused, you should know better than to ask again. Otherwise, you’re crossing a line.

After I end the call, the wind grows stronger.

Sand whips through the air and strikes my calves, leaving a faint sting.

I slowly walk over to a cluster of rocks and sit down, hugging my knees as I stare at the increasingly dark sea in the distance.

It’s not that I haven’t thought about calling again.

But every time the thought crosses my mind, I hear the instructor’s voice in my head.

If someone refuses you once and you keep begging without knowing when to stop, you’re being a nuisance. You’re crossing a boundary. You deserve whatever punishment comes next.

My phone vibrates again.

This time, it’s Weston.

I stare at his name on the screen for several seconds before answering.

His voice is low, “Harper, Lillian isn’t doing well emotionally. We’re at the hospital with her, seeing a therapist.”

I hold the phone to my ear without saying anything.

He pauses, then speaks with a hint of exhaustion, “Stop doing this, okay? She’s already sensitive. Calling Tabitha over and over will only make her more anxious.”

“And…” He hesitates before lowering his voice even further. “Stop relying on your family like you have no sense of boundaries. You’re not a child anymore.”

No sense of boundaries.

Those words again.

They sink into my old wounds like a needle.

So now even calling them and asking them to come get me counts as crossing a line.

I look up.

The dark clouds have completely swallowed the horizon. The sea wind carries the damp, salty smell of the ocean into my face, while distant thunder rumbles in the distance.

The hurricane is coming.

And the person on the other end of the phone is still teaching me what it means to know my place.

Suddenly, I don’t want to speak anymore. I quietly pull the phone away from my ear, end the call, and turn it off completely.

The wind grows stronger and stronger.

I stay where I am, never calling anyone again.

The wind rises without warning. I crouch behind a large rock, digging my fingers deep into the sand.

The waves surge into black walls. Palm trees are ripped out by their roots, while debris and sand whip across my skin like blades.

I curl up with all my strength, but the wind still lifts my entire body off the ground.

For that one moment, my body feels as light as a sheet of paper.

All around me are sounds of destruction: the tearing of trees, the sharp crack of breaking trunks, and the thunderous roar of waves crashing against the rocks.

I can’t hold on to anything.

Without the slightest protection, I crash into the jagged rocks below.

Gazing up at the sky, I can’t help but wonder—

What will their faces look like when they see me like this?