Chapter 9: Choosing Myself

I bit my lower lip, feeling wronged, my nose stinging: “I didn’t.”

I could taste blood, the copper tang mixing with bitter humiliation. I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

“It wasn’t me, she suddenly grabbed my hand. I just shook her off.”

My voice shook, desperate for someone to believe me.

Natalie heard this and cried, “It’s my fault, Derek, don’t blame Aubrey.”

She wiped her cheeks, sniffling just loud enough for everyone to hear. Her martyrdom made my skin crawl.

“I forgot to lock the wheelchair, that’s why this happened.”

She ducked her head, perfect picture of remorse. The staff nodded, offering tissues and soft words.

“Natalie, you don’t need to speak up for Aubrey anymore,” Derek said coldly. “I know what kind of temper she has.”

His words cut through me. I wanted to scream that he was wrong, but the look in his eyes told me it wouldn’t matter.

“All these years, every woman who got close to me was driven away by her little tricks.”

He listed my faults like reading from a police report. The staff nodded, some remembering harmless pranks, jealous glances, whispered warnings. I shrank beneath their judgment.

I couldn’t help but laugh, tears stinging my eyes: “So Uncle Derek, you don’t believe me, do you?”

My laugh was brittle, sharp with pain. It echoed, bouncing off the walls.

“Do you deserve my trust?” he retorted.

The words landed with finality. Nothing left to say.

“You’re right, I don’t deserve it.”

I swallowed the hurt, holding my head high. If he wanted a villain, I’d play it.

“Only Natalie deserves it. Whatever she says, you believe.” With that, I pulled my suitcase to leave.

The wheels scraped against the floor, loud in the silence. My vision blurred, but I refused to look back.

But Derek had the staff stop me. He said, “Apologize.”

Two staff members blocked my path, arms folded. I stared at them, disbelief giving way to anger.

I stared at Derek in disbelief.

He met my gaze, unflinching. The man who once tucked me in at night was gone—replaced by a stranger.

He repeated, “Natalie was wronged for no reason. You should apologize.”

His voice was colder than a Lake Erie wind in November. I shivered, but wouldn’t back down.

“What if I don’t?” I asked, eyes brimming with tears.

I knew the answer, but needed to hear him say it. Maybe I still hoped he’d relent.

I thought I could stay calm facing this again.

But my heart thundered, palms sweating, every nerve on fire.

But I still overestimated myself.

Old wounds bled just as easily. When all the old favoritism turned into sharp swords—

I felt every slight, every lost kindness, every moment he chose her over me. Death by a thousand cuts.

It really hurts.

The pain was raw, primal—a howl in my chest.

“You know what I’m capable of,” Derek said coldly.

He didn’t need to elaborate. I’d seen what he could do. Fear twisted in my gut.

He glanced at the staff behind me. They exchanged looks, ready to step forward.

One cracked his knuckles, another shifted his weight. I wondered if they’d drag me out if I resisted.

I sneered at myself.

My own reflection in the hall mirror stared back—wild-eyed, mouth twisted in defeat. I hated the girl I saw.

Letting go of the suitcase, I bent over and apologized to Natalie:

My cheeks burned as I forced the words out, my voice barely more than a whisper. It felt like swallowing glass.

“Today’s incident was my fault. I shouldn’t have shaken you off when you grabbed my hand.”

Each word was a stone in my mouth. My voice trembled, but I made sure everyone could hear.

“I almost made you fall. I’m sorry.”

The apology hung in the air. Natalie blinked, surprised, maybe guilty for a split second.

Natalie was stunned, and Derek’s expression grew even darker.

He glared at me, daring me to say more. The staff watched, some with pity, others with suspicion. The divide between us had never felt wider.

After I straightened up, I looked at Derek: “Uncle Derek, is that enough?”

My voice was flat, hollow. I was done pretending.

“If not, if you want me to beg, I will.”

The words were a challenge, a final act of defiance. I wanted him to see just how far he’d pushed me.

Derek’s eyes were complicated, but in the end, he said nothing.

He looked away, lips pressed tight. If he felt any regret, it didn’t show.

I pulled my suitcase downstairs.

The sound of each step echoed—a funeral march for the life I was leaving behind.

As soon as I reached the first floor, Mrs. Carter said, “Sir might be in a bad mood today.”

Her voice was gentle, lined with worry. She was like the grandmother I never had—always ready with a kind word and a cup of tea.

“Miss, don’t take it to heart. All these years, we’ve seen how much Sir dotes on you.”

She patted my arm, offering the comfort Derek never could. I almost cried, but held it in.

She spoke up for Derek, trying to help with my suitcase.

She reached for the handle, but I stopped her with a grateful smile. I needed to do this on my own.

I just smiled.

It was weak, but real. I was finally letting go.

In the past, whenever I argued with Derek,

Mrs. Carter would bake cookies, brew sweet tea, and make sure we sat together until we made up. I missed those days—believing anything could be fixed with sugar and patience.

Mrs. Carter always tried to mediate. After so many years, she was still the same.

She looked at me now with the same hopeful eyes, as if she could will us back to the way things were. But some things can’t be mended.

But Derek and I could never go back to the way things were.

There was no reset button, no magic word to undo the damage. All I could do was move forward.

“Miss, aren’t you going to the guest room?” she asked in surprise.

Her voice was soft, confused. I shook my head, already knowing what I had to do.

I shook my head. “No.”

I forced a smile, blinking away tears. This was the first step toward freedom.

“But Sir—”

She tried to reason with me, but I cut her off gently.

“Help me tell Uncle Derek: thank you for taking care of me all these years. I won’t trouble him anymore.”

The words sounded final, even to my own ears. I wanted her to know I was grateful, but done being a burden.

This life, it ends here.

I took one last look at the house—the pictures on the wall, the shoes by the door, the flowers in the vase. It was all behind me now.

The pain of my last life—I don’t want to endure it again.

I closed the door gently behind me, the chill autumn air stinging my cheeks. The world felt vast, uncertain, but for the first time, I welcomed it. I walked down the driveway, suitcase in hand, ready to start over—on my own terms. The autumn leaves crunched beneath my boots, and for the first time in years, the air tasted like freedom.