After Rebirth, I Stopped Competing, and the Fake Heiress Lost It Chapter 09

After Rebirth, I Stopped Competing, and the Fake Heiress Lost It Chapter 09

She thrashed and screamed, face streaked with tears and ruined mascara, completely unraveled.

I didn’t move. I watched her over the officers‘ shoulders.

The comments went dead the second she said it.

Like someone had hit pause. Every line of text hanging in my vision froze, cracked apart, and

dissolved into nothing.

I blinked. For the first time, my vision was completely clear.

They dragged Sloane out, and she was still screaming..

“Start over! I want to start over! START OVER!”

Her voice carried down the hall long after she was gone.

Dad lay in the hospital bed looking like he’d aged ten years overnight.

He was quiet for a long time. Then: “Press charges. All of them.”

Mom held Dad’s hand, tears running silently down her face. She didn’t argue.

Last time, I begged them through tears to press charges against the Mercers. They refused, too

worried about Sloane, too worried about the scandal.

This time, they didn’t hesitate.

Kidnapping. Attempted murder. Criminal solicitation. The charges stacked up fast.

Gordon got life. Sloane had just turned eighteen when it happened, old enough to be tried as an adult. Twelve years.

I went to the courthouse the day they read the sentence.

Sloane stood in front of the judge in a bright orange jumpsuit, her hair chopped short. She’d lost so much weight I barely recognized her.

She turned and found me in the gallery. Her lips moved.

I couldn’t hear her, but I read the shape of the words.

Start over. Next time, I’ll win.

I turned around and walked out.

I finished out senior year at Bellhaven. My SATS came back solid, and I applied to Ravenport

University.

Before the semester started, Grandma called.

“Tessa, are you really going all the way out there for school?”

I paused. “Grandma, how are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. Your parents made a mess of things, and you got the worst of it.” Grandma’s voice was thin and scratchy through the phone, the way it always got when she

was trying not to be emotional. “You take care of yourself out there, you hear me? And if you ever

need anything, you call me.”

I promised I would.

I hung up and set my phone down. Outside the window, the Ravenport sky stretched wide open.

Blue sky, white clouds, nothing like the gray that sat over the Winslow house back north.

I almost never went home during college. On holidays, I sent polite, measured texts.

My parents called. More than once, they hinted they wanted me back.

I told them I had classes, internships, deadlines.

After a while, they stopped pushing.

Graham started texting too. He’d send photos: flowers in the garden, Grandma sitting in the yard in

the sun.

I’d open them, send back a quick reply, and leave it at that.

One winter break, Mom flew out to see me.

She’d gotten thin. Fine lines had settled around her eyes. She sat across from me in the coffee shop near campus, both hands wrapped around a hot Americano, and couldn’t find the words.

Finally she reached across the table, took my hand, and traced her thumb over the old scars on my wrist. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Tessa, I’m so sorry.”

I looked at her and smiled.

“Mom. It’s over. It’s done.”

The tears came. She tried to say more, but I cut in.

“I’m good, Mom. Really. Don’t worry about me.”

I drove her to the airport. At the security line, she kept turning back to look at me. Finally she waved, turned, and disappeared through the gate.

I stood on the other side of the glass and watched her go. I didn’t feel much of anything.

I couldn’t forgive them. And I didn’t want to try.

Every time I saw them, it all came back. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life carrying that.

It was behind me. I’d moved on.

Money wasn’t a problem. The dividends from my shares were more than enough.

I found a job I liked anyway, nothing demanding. On weekends I walked the waterfront and spent time on things that were just for me.

Grandma died three winters after I graduated.

She went in her sleep. Peaceful.

I flew home for the funeral. In the chapel, I stood in front of Grandma’s portrait–that same warm

smile that never changed–and laid three white roses beside her casket.

Mom stood next to me, holding my hand, barely able to keep her feet under her.

I held her up.

After the service, Graham pulled me aside and handed me an envelope.

“Grandma left this for you.”