When the Forgotten Daughter Rises Chapter 02

When the Forgotten Daughter Rises Chapter 02

Ever since Lily’s graduation party, the whole house has gone into full-on preparation mode.

Every conversation at the dinner table revolves around Ridgeview High School, apartments near the school, and nutritious meals for Lily.

One weekend morning, Dad’s excited voice comes from the living room.

“Honey, what do you think of this apartment near the school? Two bedrooms, fully furnished, right across from Ridgeview High. It’s only a ten-minute walk. Lily can come back for lunch and take a nap, and it’ll make things easier for us, too.”

Mom leans over to look at the tablet and nods repeatedly.

“I like this one. It gets plenty of natural light. But we’ll need to replace the bed in Lily’s room with a solid wood frame. Her neck has been bothering her, so she can’t sleep on anything too soft.”

“Right. And how big is the kitchen? These next three years are critical. I’ll need to cook for her every day. If the kitchen’s too small, I won’t be able to make proper meals.”

They sit on the couch, discussing everything with such enthusiasm that they sound like they’re planning a multimillion-dollar investment.

I walk past them, and Dad doesn’t even look up.

“The rent isn’t exactly cheap, though. Four thousand five hundred a month.”

He frowns as he works out the numbers.

Mom, however, makes the decision without hesitation.

“If it helps Lily succeed, we’ll make it work. It’s not like we can’t afford it. Ellie can stay here in the old house by herself. She’ll be a senior next year anyway. She can study anywhere, and at least she’ll have some peace and quiet.”

My steps stop in the hallway.

Standing in the shadows, I suddenly understand.

I was never part of their plan.

“Exactly.”

Dad nods, then finally turns to look at me.

“Ellie, you hear that? We’re moving at the beginning of next month. You’ll need to be responsible while you’re here alone. If someone from the pack asks you to run an errand, help them out. You’re a senior now. Don’t give us another thing to worry about.”

I don’t argue. I simply answer in a flat voice, “Okay.”

July 15 is an ordinary Tuesday.

My phone suddenly rings.

It’s a call from the delivery driver.

“Hi, is this Elena Reeves? Your college admission letter is here. Could you come downstairs with a state-issued ID to sign for it?”

I hang up and rush downstairs without even bothering to change out of my slippers.

When I take the thick envelope from the delivery driver, my hands tremble slightly despite myself.

A gold-embossed university crest is printed on the front.

I open it.

Inside is a beautifully designed acceptance letter.

My name is printed clearly across the page, along with the name of one of the top three universities in the country.

When I get home, I place the acceptance letter in the center of the coffee table, where everyone will see it.

A tiny, almost ridiculous flicker of hope still lingers in my heart.

I want to know.

What will they do when they see it?

At four in the afternoon, the front door opens.

Mom and Dad come home with Lily, their arms loaded with shopping bags.

“Oh, I’m exhausted. It’s so hot outside.”

Mom complains as she takes off her shoes, then casually drops two shopping bags onto the coffee table.

By sheer coincidence, the bottom of one of the bags lands directly on top of my red acceptance letter.

“Ellie! Come help me put these new sheets in the washer!”

Mom calls loudly from the entryway.

I stand around the corner in the hallway, staring at the mess on the coffee table.

In that moment, the last bit of hope in my heart is completely washed away.

I walk over calmly, move the things scattered across the table aside, and pull my acceptance letter out from underneath the shopping bag.

Mom glances at me and frowns.

“What’s that? Some random flyer? Just throw it out. We’re taking Lily out for sushi tonight. You can make yourself a sandwich. You’re a senior now. Stop eating all that junk food from outside.”

“Okay.”

I say nothing.

I turn around, go back to my room, and carefully tuck the acceptance letter into the back of my desk drawer, where no one will find it.