Just as spots began dancing in my vision, the door burst open. Mrs. Collins, our housekeeper rushed me out, immediately grabbing my emergency medication.
I wrapped myself in a robe and headed to my bedroom. As I opened the door, I froze in horror.
My camera lay shattered on the floor. The memory card was snapped in half beside it.
That camera had been my lifeline, the only thing that reminded me I'd once had dreams beyond these walls. Every night, I would scroll through those photos, reminding myself that Emma Stone had existed before she became Olivia’s replacement.
A sob tore from my throat as I knelt beside the ruins of my past life. That's when I noticed the note, written in crayon:
"FAKE MOMMIES DON'T DESERVE MEMORIES."
Something inside me finally broke. I stormed downstairs, finding Theo in the living room with tear tracks on his face as Caleb comforted him.
"How could you?" My voice shook with fury. "That camera was my life's work. Every photo, every memory..."
"It's just a stupid camera," Theo spat. "Mom didn't like photography. She said it was your way of running away from family."
Caleb rose, towering over me. "Haven't you done enough damage for one day? Look how upset he is!"
"Me?" I stepped back, incredulous. "He destroyed thousands of dollars of equipment! Years of my work! And earlier today he poured chemicals into..."
"For God's sake, Emma," Caleb hissed, using my real name like a weapon. "It's just a hobby. This—" he gestured around the house, at Theo, "—this is what matters. This family. The family you promised to help heal."
"By erasing myself?" I whispered. "That was never the agreement. I was supposed to help transition him, not become her permanently."
Caleb's expression softened as he approached me, one hand reaching for my burned skin. "I know this is hard. But look at him, he needs his mother."
"I'm not his mother," I said quietly. "And I never will be."
His fingers traced the outline of my jaw, continuing down my neck. "You could be. You already look like her. Act like her. And tonight... you could be her for me, too."
I recoiled from his touch. The longing in his eyes wasn't for me—it never had been.
"I'm leaving," I said firmly. "Tomorrow. I’m done with you."
"What do you mean you're leaving?" Caleb's voice dropped to a whisper. "On the anniversary of my wife's death? Have you no respect at all?"