The clinking of silverware echoed like a countdown to Kitty’s freedom. She sat at the far end of the polished mahogany table, staring at her reflection in the glossy surface. Perfect house. Perfect family. Perfect lie.
Her father, Charles, didn’t look up from his phone. He never did. His suit jacket draped across the chair like a king’s robe. Next to him, Hana smiled that plastic, Instagram-worthy smile, the one she wore for neighbors and strangers—never for Kitty.
“So,” Hana began, her voice sweet as poison, “aren’t you excited, Kitty? A fresh start. A chance to redeem yourself.”
Kitty stabbed her salad with the fork, expression unreadable. “Sure. Nothing screams ‘fresh start’ like being shipped off because you’re an inconvenience.”
Her mother’s smile cracked for half a second before returning. “Don’t be dramatic. We’re doing this for you.”
Daniel, the golden boy, smirked from across the table. “Translation: They’re embarrassed of you.” His voice dripped with mockery as he sipped his expensive sparkling water.
Kitty leaned back, a ghost of a smile curling her lips. “Funny. I didn’t realize being born made me a PR disaster. But hey, thanks for clearing that up, Danny Boy.”
His jaw tightened, but before he could clap back, Lily—the family’s crown jewel—piped up in her sing-song voice. “Mommy said you’re broken. That’s why they don’t love you.” She giggled, her perfect teeth shining like a weapon.
Hana didn’t even scold her. Of course she didn’t. Instead, she added, “Lily, darling, don’t tease your sister. She knows why she’s going away.”
The twins, Mia and Maya, exchanged their trademark creepy glance before chanting in unison, “Because she’s embarrassing.” Their laughter filled the room like nails on glass.
Kitty didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She just smiled—slow, sharp, dangerous. “Wow. A whole family obsessed with me. It’s almost flattering.”
Her father finally looked up, his eyes cold and sharp. “Enough, Katherine. Try to leave this house with some dignity, if you have any left.”
Kitty’s gaze locked on his, her voice calm but lethal. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll take all the dignity this family never had.”
Silence. Utter silence. For a split second, she swore she saw a crack in his armor. Then Hana’s fork clattered against her plate. “Go to your room.”
Kitty stood slowly, chair scraping against the polished floor. She didn’t run, didn’t cry—just walked away with the calm of someone who had already decided: I’m done playing their game.
Upstairs, packing her bag, she thought only one thing: They think they broke me. Cute. They just built someone they can’t control