The Heiress They Exiled Chapter 09

The Heiress They Exiled Chapter 09

“Actually, I lied to all of you.”

“When I first came to your family, Harper was very kind to me.”

“She brought me good food, gave me new dresses, and held my hand as she told me, ‘From now on, you can think of this as your home.””

“But I was jealous of her.”

“She had everything. Parents who adored her, an older brother who protected her, even a wonderful boy who loved her. She stood in the sunlight as if everything in the world belonged to her. So I thought, why not take it all away?”

“I pretended to be helpless. I acted innocent. Little by little, I pushed her out of her own home.”

“I watched all of you grow to hate her more and more while favoring me more and more, and I was

so pleased with myself.”

“But I never wanted her to die.”

She lowers her head and looks at her handcuffed wrists, “I really never wanted her to die.”

The courtroom is utterly silent.

My mother suddenly rises from her seat and stares at Lillian.

Her mouth opens, then closes again. Then all the strength seems to drain from her body, and she collapses straight to the floor.

She never regains consciousness.

The doctors say she has suffered such a severe emotional shock that she has suffered a complete

mental breakdown.

She begins talking to herself, speaking to the empty corner of the room.

“Harper is back. I can see her.”

“Harper says she doesn’t hate me.”

“Harper says she’s going somewhere very, very far away.”

After my father takes care of everything at the hospital, finishes dealing with the school, and settles

Lillian’s case, he returns home and sells the family businesses.

He donates every last dollar to children’s protection charities.

He calls Graham to him and says only one thing, “The thing I regret most in my life is what I did your sister. It’s too late to make things right now. But at the very least, we can’t let another child go through what she did.”

They return to Italy.

Weston doesn’t say goodbye to anyone. He seems to fall into a severe depression.

He can’t sleep through the night and can barely eat. The doctor prescribes him medication, but he

refuses to take it.

“If I take them, I’ll forget her. I don’t want to forget her.”

Later, one evening, he sits beneath an elm tree in Central Park as the setting sun casts a soft golden light over him.

He squints against the light, and for a moment, he seems to see me standing in front of him in a white dress, tugging on his sleeve and complaining angrily.

“Weston, don’t hold anyone else’s hand. You can only hold mine. Mine!”

He reaches out, trying to grasp something, but there is nothing there.

Only the wind slips through his fingers, cool and faint.

He wants to smile, but tears fall first.

“Harper,” he whispers. “Don’t walk so fast. Wait for me.”

I don’t turn around. I don’t need to anymore.

The road ahead is bright and warm, like the little night-light my mother used to leave on for me when I was a child.

In my next life, I don’t want to fight for anything.

I don’t want to take anything from anyone.

I don’t want to keep my distance.

And I don’t want to be loved by anyone anymore.