The Heiress They Exiled Chapter 05

The Heiress They Exiled Chapter 05

The next second, I am standing outside the private suite at Good Samaritan.

They have admitted Lillian to one of Good Samaritan’s private suites.

My mother sits on the sofa inside, clutching her chest, her face as pale as paper.

“My heart… suddenly feels so tight.” She grips Graham’s arm, her voice trembling. “Is something wrong with Harper? Is it?”

Graham supports her and speaks softly, “Mom, don’t let your imagination run wild. I sent someone to the island half an hour ago. They should be back by now. Harper will be fine.”

My mother doesn’t let go, “But my heart is racing… It’s beating so fast.”

I stand right in front of them, less than two steps away.

But they can’t see me.

My father stands to the side, his brows furrowed.

“Stop indulging her.” His tone is impatient. “She’s only like this because we’ve spoiled her too much. Let her stay on the island a little longer and teach her a lesson.”

“Otherwise, who knows what she’ll do next? Lillian was so upset by her that she ended up in the hospital, and she’s still putting on an act.”

Graham looks up at our father.

“Dad,” he says, “Harper has been away at boarding school for three years. She finally came home this year. Just stop lecturing her.”

Lillian sits on the hospital bed, her face pale as she speaks softly.

“Malcolm, please don’t blame Harper.” She bites her lip. “It’s my fault. It’s only natural that Harper doesn’t like me. When she comes back, I’ll make sure we get along. I won’t make her angry

anymore.”

My mother looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and gently strokes her hair.

“Good girl,” she says. “You’ve been through enough.”

My father softens too.

“Look at Lillian,” he says to Graham. “Then look at your sister. How can they be so different? Lillian is kind, gracious, and well-mannered. When will your sister learn even half of that?”

Graham says nothing.

Weston stands behind Lillian, looking down at her with a tenderness so intense it seems ready to Spill from his eyes.

Floating in the air, I watch them and suddenly remember so many things from the past.

When I am five and running a high fever, my mother stays by my bedside all night and doesn’t sleep

until dawn.

When I am eight and scrape open my knee, my father scolds me for being careless, yet his hands are impossibly gentle as he cleans and treats the wound.

Graham saves his allowance for three months to buy me a limited-edition dress, telling me that I

look the best in it.

Weston holds my hand and promises that wherever he goes, he’ll always take ine with him.

That love is real.

I once held on to it tightly, believing it was only natural and that it would never change.

But now, I have become a soul no one can see, while all that love has been given to someone else.

It still hurts.

Even without a body, the place where my heart used to be feels as though something is twisting it

tight.

My mother suddenly picks up her phone.

“I’m going to call Harper,” she says. “The hurricane just passed. I don’t even know if she got

soaked.”

She dials my number and puts it on speaker. It rings for a long time.

“We’re sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.”

My father’s brows draw together again.

“She’s spoiled,” he scoffs. “She’s deliberately refusing to answer. She just wants everyone in the family running after her.”

The moment he finishes speaking, his own phone rings.

He glances at the screen. It’s an unknown number.

He answers with an irritated, “Hello?”

Whatever he hears on the other end makes his expression change instantly.

“What did you just say?”

The person on the other end says a few more words, and my father’s face suddenly twists into a cold, mocking smile.

“A scammer has the nerve to try this on me?” His voice rises. “My daughter is perfectly fine on an island in Palm Beach, and you’re telling me she’s dead? You want me to come identify her body? Do you people just make this stuff up as you go? Shut up! Don’t you dare curse my daughter!”

The person on the other end seems to keep talking, apparently giving them the location and describing my appearance.

‘… Short hair, black dress, a scar on her right wrist.”

My mother suddenly stands, her face turning deathly pale.

The scar on my right wrist is from when I fall out of a tree as a child. I need five stitches.

Graham’s lips begin to tremble slightly.

But my father waves my mother off and continues.

“Harper Moorefield has been pulling tricks like this since she was a child. She had you call us to scare me, didn’t she? Tell her it won’t work.”

“You said you’ll cremate the body if no one claims it? Then go ahead and cremate it. Better yet,

scatter the ashes too.”

With that, he hangs up.