Chapter 9

“Calliope, enough already! Are you raiding your sister’s room or what? Look at this mess!”

Zelda stood in the doorway, clutching her chest as if she were about to have a heart attack. The once picture-perfect princess suite was now a whirlwind of chaos.

“Zelda, everything I’m taking is what Grandpa gave me himself!” Calliope shot back. “Stealing my stuff, hoarding my things—that’s what you call raiding. I’m just reclaiming what’s rightfully mine!”

She furiously packed a suitcase, tossing items in without hesitation.

Lisette’s room was filled with precious things that belonged to Calliope, things her grandpa had left her before he passed. But time and time again, whenever Lisette took a liking to something, Zelda would swipe it away and hand it over to her.

Even this room had once been Calliope’s.

She had returned to the Jewell family a full year before Lisette arrived. Back then, life was blissful. Zelda and Monty treated her kindly, and her three brothers adored her as their only sister. She had the largest room, the best of everything.

Then Lisette was adopted, and everything changed.

At first, it was subtle. But gradually, Calliope realized her family was slipping away from her, their world beginning to revolve around Lisette. They celebrated only Lisette’s birthdays. Everything that had once been hers became Lisette’s.

“You’re her older sister, you should let her have her way,” they’d say.

“You’re so childish, older but not wiser,” they’d lecture.

“You’re disobedient,” they’d scold.

“Lisette outshines you in every way, in studies and talents,” they’d claim.

They knew nothing.

In truth, Calliope excelled in ways they never noticed. She had supported them more than they’d ever realize. But by the time she saw how much things had changed, it was too late. No one would believe her. They’d just say, “Lisette wouldn’t lie. Don’t accuse her just because she’s better behaved.”

“Those things were gifts for Lisette!” Zelda snapped, her voice dripping with fury. “Calliope, how can you be so shameless, so vindictive?”

“Did I ever say they were gifts?” Calliope zipped up her suitcase and looked up with a smirk. “You gave them away, so buy her new ones. These are mine, you have no right to give them away!”

With that, she dragged her suitcase back to her own room.

Compared to Lisette’s spacious, sunlit princess suite, Calliope’s room was minuscule. Inside, there was barely enough space for a five-foot bed and a small desk. Lisette had an enormous walk-in closet, while Calliope made do with a tiny wardrobe.

As she glanced around, reality sank in. Most of her belongings were Lisette’s castoffs—things she discarded without a second thought. Nothing had ever been bought because she wanted it.

Calliope’s eyes dimmed as she lowered her gaze. She had cared so much for them, but they had never truly cared for her. Her heart still ached, still felt heavy with sorrow.

Why was it that, despite being their blood, only Grandpa had ever loved her?

Forget it then. Perhaps their love was never meant for her.

Calliope packed up her most prized possessions into another suitcase. Then, without looking back, she turned and left the room.

“What are you doing?” Monty asked from the bottom of the stairs, his brow furrowed in concern.

Chapter 10