Later that night, the house was silent. Candice and Matteo had gone to sleep. The air was thick with the remnants of the day’s chaos, but I felt nothing now. No grief. No pain. Only the burning weight of knowing—
I had been robbed of everything.
I had planned to leave. I had even packed my bags.
But leaving wasn’t enough.
Not anymore.
I wasn’t going to let them win.
Moving silently through the hallway, I reached Candice’s room. The door was slightly ajar, the dim light from her bedside lamp casting a glow across the floor.
I stepped inside.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. When she saw me, her brow furrowed. “Cassandra?”
I shut the door behind me. Slowly. Carefully.
She sat up straighter. “What do you want?”
I didn’t answer.
I reached into my pocket, my fingers closing around the cold, smooth handle of the scalpel I had taken from the study earlier that evening.
Candice’s eyes widened.
She scrambled to her feet. “What are you doing?”
I took a slow step forward. “Do you know what I found today?”
Her breath hitched. With a swift motion, I lifted it, exposing her stomach.
A scar.
Faint, but there.
Proof.
Candice gasped, trying to shove me away, but I was faster. I slammed her back against the dresser, pinning her wrists.
“Cassandra, stop!” she cried.
I lifted the scalpel, pressing it just below the scar.
Her breathing grew ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I know the truth now,” I whispered, my grip tightening.
Her lips parted, her entire body trembling.
“That’s my kidney,” I said, my voice laced with cold fury.
Tears streaked down her face. “Cassandra, please—”
I pressed the blade against her skin, my heart pounding with nothing but pure, unfiltered rage.
“I’m going to take it back now.”
