Chapter 3: Ghosts in the Family Parlor

She ducked her head, voice trembling just enough to sound real. “He said he wanted to give me everything I was denied as a child.” The irony nearly made me laugh.

“But will Mom be willing?”

Delilah’s question hung in the air, delicate as spun sugar. It was the only real uncertainty left.

Grandma smiled calmly: “Her daughter’s done such a thing; how could she have the nerve to object? Besides, when we went back to the old family home last time, I already changed your status to legitimate daughter.”

The way Grandma said it, you’d think she was talking about the weather. “It’s already done, Del. Nothing to worry about.”

Standing there, invisible, my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. What a pair—grandmother and granddaughter, thick as thieves.

I watched them, unseen and powerless, and wondered how I ever thought we were a real family. Their affection was a closed circle, and I’d never had the key.

So they knew all along what the Duke of Northfield was doing. They always talked about sharing honor and disgrace, but when it mattered, they let outsiders destroy my reputation.

It was all a performance. They rehearsed their lines, played their parts, and when the time came, let me take the fall. The betrayal was sharper than any blade.

Sean Murphy and I were labeled shameless, but she and the Duke of Northfield were called deeply in love.

It’s funny—how the same actions are called love or scandal, depending on who’s telling the story. The town gossips clucked their tongues at me, but toasted Delilah and the Duke at every turn.

The Duke of Northfield wanted Delilah to be a legitimate daughter, but she’d already become one behind closed doors.

It was all smoke and mirrors. The paperwork filed, names changed, while I was left stumbling in the dark.

Why did they have to go to such lengths to plot against me!

Even now, I can’t quite wrap my head around it. Wasn’t it enough to take my place? Did they have to destroy me, too?

Mom would never have agreed to this. After I died, Mom and my brother would have dug for answers and never let the Duke of Northfield get away with it.

I could picture Mom, wild with grief and rage, tearing through the house for answers. My brother would play dutiful son, but his eyes would always be on Delilah.

I drifted to Mom’s room.

The door was cracked open, light spilling onto the hallway carpet. I hovered in the doorway, unseen and unheard.

“Mom, Nadine is already dead. The most important thing now is that the marriage alliance with the Duke of Northfield can’t be broken.”

My brother’s voice was cold, all business. He spoke as if I’d never existed, like my death was just a minor inconvenience.

There wasn’t a flicker of sadness in his eyes, as if the person who died was just some stranger. He was busy convincing Mom to give the trust fund, meant for me, to Delilah, so she’d have more security.

He leaned in, all earnestness and persuasion. “It’s what Nadine would have wanted,” he said, and for a second, I almost believed him. Almost.

Mom cried until her eyes were red and swollen, but still agreed under my brother’s coaxing. After all, the Duke of Northfield was powerful, and could help my brother down the road.

She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, voice trembling. “You’re right. We can’t let this chance slip away.” The future was all anyone could think about.

Those closest to me were nothing more than this.

The realization settled over me like a funeral shroud. In the end, family was just another word for business partner.

I numbly watched myself being hastily buried. Six months later, the whole family sent Delilah off to marry, with a ten-mile line of limos, envied by all of Maple Heights.

The funeral was a blur—rain on the casket, hurried words from the preacher, my name barely spoken. But when Delilah’s wedding came, the whole town turned out, cameras flashing, people waving from their porches. It was the send-off I’d always dreamed of, just not for me.

Looking at my lively face in the mirror, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “Ha, ha, ha….”

The sound startled even me—sharp, a little wild. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle it, but the laughter kept bubbling up. It felt good, in a twisted way, to finally let it out.

“Miss, what’s wrong with you?”

The maid peeked in, concern etched on her face. “Are you alright, Miss Nadine?” Her voice was gentle, cautious, like she thought I might shatter.

I forced a smile: “Nothing, I just thought of something funny.”

I waved her off, still grinning. “Just a silly thought, that’s all.” She nodded, unconvinced, but left me alone with my reflection.

Mom pulled me aside every day to show off the wedding gifts she’d picked out for me. Today, it was a pearl necklace from Whitmore’s Jewelry; tomorrow, a designer dress from Magnolia Boutique.

She’d sit me down after breakfast, eyes shining with excitement. “Look at this, Nadine—a real freshwater pearl necklace, straight from Whitmore’s! Tomorrow, I’ll show you the dress I picked up at Magnolia. You’ll be the most beautiful bride Maple Heights has ever seen.”