Manson lifted his glass unhurriedly, took a slow sip, then set it down with calm precision.
The wine swirled once, catching the light before settling much like the heavy silence under his control.
A smile formed, controlled, unreadable.
“Then,” he said softly, “let’s get to the point…”
His gaze swept across the table, finally resting where he wanted it most.
On Fiona.
“…why I invited you all here,” Manson said calmly, fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table.
His gaze swept across them before settling.
“Fiona will be spending every weekend with me. Starting Friday.”
Fiona’s eyes lifted slowly, locking onto his.
Sharp.
Silent.
Unblinking.
“Oh, that’s not an issue,” Brett said almost too quickly, relief slipping into his voice.
“She can even stay with you on weekdays if you want. I thought it was something serious or important.”
For a fraction of a second, the air changed.
Manson’s gaze snapped to him.
Cold.
Heavy.
The kind of look that made, sound disappear.
“It is important,” he said, voice lower now measured, deliberate.
Brett stiffened.
The rest of his sentence died where it was born.
He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as his hand dropped beneath the table, fingers twitching uncontrollably in his lap.
“Ah… yes, sir. Important,” he corrected quickly.
Eva swallowed, forcing a nervous smile.
“You… you don’t even have a problem with it. She can go today if needed.”
“No.” Manson’s voice cut through the room like a blade.
“It starts next week.”
His eyes flicked briefly to Fiona.
He noticed her glare immediately.
Unwavering.
Quietly furious.
A faint pause.
Then—
“Sir,” Fallyn spoke up, voice soft but bright, trying to ease the tension, “can I visit her too? I’d really love to keep my sister company so she won’t be lonely.”
Something shifted in the air again.
Manson leaned back slightly, expression softening just a fraction.
“Aww… how sweet of you,” he said.
His tone, almost approving.
Almost warm.
“She won’t be lonely. She’ll always be with me.”
A pause.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he added, “But if you want to come over, that’s fine.”
Fallyn’s face lit up instantly.
“OMG, really? Thank you, Mr. Manson!”
Without hesitation, she reached forward and placed a spoonful of vegetables onto his plate, almost shyly excited.
“Try this.”
Manson glanced down at the food, then back at her.
“As much as I’d love to,” he said smoothly, “I’m already full. I can’t force it in.”
A soft smile curved his lips.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
The words landed gently.
Too gently.
Fallyn’s expression faltered for half a second before she recovered, smiling again but something inside her sank quietly.
Across the table, Eva and Brett exchanged relieved smiles, as if the moment had passed harmlessly.
Only Fiona didn’t move.
Didn’t smile.
Her glare stayed fixed on Manson quiet, controlled, and burning with something he clearly understood but chose to ignore.
***
The door slammed shut behind Fiona, and the sound thundered through the living room like a final judgment being sealed.
Silence followed but it didn’t last.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Eva’s voice snapped first, sharp and unrestrained.
“Do you want him to get angry with us? Do you want to ruin everything?”
Fiona stood frozen for a moment, blinking slowly as if trying to process the words.
“I didn’t say much…” she answered quietly.
“What did I even do?”
Eva turned on her fully now, eyes blazing.
“You’re asking me that?” she scoffed.
“Did you not see how sweet and respectful Fallyn was? How hard is it for you to act like that for once?”
A pause.
Then Fiona’s voice low, trembling, almost too honest to be careful.
“It would’ve been better… if you had just given him Fallyn.”
The air shattered.
A sharp slap cut through the room.
Fiona’s head snapped to the side, her cheek burning instantly as the sting spread across her skin.
“Mom!” Fallyn gasped.
“Honey!” Brett rushed forward, grabbing Eva’s arm and pulling her back.
“What is wrong with you? Stop this!”
But Fiona didn’t hear them properly anymore.
Something inside her cracked quiet at first, then all at once.
Her breath hitched.
“I’m also a human being…” her voice trembled, rising unevenly as tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m the eldest daughter… does that make me a superhuman?”
Her vision blurred completely now, tears spilling without permission.
“I breathe the same air you do… and yet it feels like I’m suffocating in it.”
Her voice broke harder.
“I didn’t choose to be your first child… I didn’t—”
A shaky inhale.
“What crime did I commit… that I can’t be treated like Fallyn?”
The last words cracked apart in her throat.
Before anyone could respond, she turned abruptly, stumbling back as if the room itself had become too heavy to stand in.
Fast footsteps.
A door slammed.
Lock clicking shut.
And then—
Fiona collapsed onto the floor of her room, hands shaking, silent sobs finally spilling out like something she had been holding back her entire life.
Fiona curled tightly on the floor, her face buried in her knees, arms wrapped around herself as if she could physically hold the pieces of her together.
The silence in the room didn’t last.
A knock sliced through the door.
“Fin… open up,” Fallyn’s voice came softly from outside.
Fiona didn’t move.
“Leave me be,” she replied, broken and distant.
A pause.
Then again, firmer this time.
“Just open up!”
“F*ck off!” Fiona snapped suddenly, her voice cracking with raw emotion, sharper than she intended.
The corridor went quiet.
Footsteps shifted.
Before Fallyn could respond again, Brett stepped in, placing both hands gently on her shoulders and pulling her back slightly.
“That’s enough, baby,” he said lowly.
“She needs to calm down first.”
“But—” Fallyn tried to push forward again, her voice shaken.
“She needs rest,” Brett cut in firmly, though not unkindly.
Fallyn’s words died in her throat.
From across the room, Eva stood frozen, watching everything unfold.
Her jaw tightened, her hands trembling at her sides.
“Argh…” she exhaled sharply, frustration spilling over.
Her gaze dropped to her own hand as if she didn’t recognize what she had just become.
Without another word, she turned away, inhaled deeply too deeply and walked slowly toward her room, leaving the weight of the moment hanging unbearably in the air.
***
A faint squeeze escaped Fiona as she lay curled on the floor, her arms folded tightly over herself like a fragile barrier against the world.
Her lashes fluttered.
Slowly… she stirred.
Then, with effort, she pushed herself upright only to be met with a heavy, blocked sensation in her nose and a chill crawling through her bones.
She let out a small, irritated breath.
“Stupid…” she muttered under her breath, rubbing her forehead.
“Why did you sleep on the floor… now you’ve caught a cold.”
A quiet, broken squeeze of laughter slipped out of her anyway.
Before she could settle, a voice came from behind the door.
“Baby… are you awake?” Brett called gently.
Fiona froze for a second.
“…Yes, Dad,” she answered softly.
“Baby, please open the door.”
Her fingers paused.
Her thoughts flickered, sharp and bitter.
‘Baby…?’
A hollow laugh escaped her lips as she whispered to herself, “Baby… you never called me that. That belongs to Fallyn…”
She exhaled shakily.
Still, she moved.
Slowly, Fiona got up and opened the door.
Brett stepped in immediately.
“Oh, baby…” His voice softened as he pulled her into a calm, careful hug.
Fiona didn’t resist.
He guided her back to the bed and sat her down like she was something delicate that might break if held too tightly.
His hands wrapped around hers, patting gently.
“About yesterday… I’m sorry on behalf of your mom,” he said quietly.
“She was overwhelmed. She just didn’t want us to fall on Manson’s bad side. She only wanted the best for you.”
Fiona’s fingers twitched under his grip.
“For me…” she murmured slowly, “or for her… the family I don’t even feel part of?”
Brett’s expression tightened immediately.
“No, no, baby don’t say that,” he rushed gently.
“Why are you thinking like this? You will always be part of us. That’s why you’re my big, intelligent, responsible baby.”
A pause.
His voice softened further.
“I’m sorry if we failed you but from now on, we will do better as parents.”
Another faint squeeze broke from Fiona, small, involuntary.
“You’ve got a cold,” Brett noticed quickly, brushing her hair back.
“Did you sleep without covering yourself?”
His eyes scanned the room briefly, then lingered on the bed.
“It’s warm enough here…” he murmured, almost to himself.
Fiona’s gaze dropped.
‘What’s so special about saying I slept on the floor?’
“I forgot to cover myself,” she said quickly.
“Okay,” he nodded.
“Don’t do that again, baby. I’ll go get your medicine. Just bathe before I come back.”
He stood and left.
Silence returned.
Fiona moved through the motions like a machine, stepping into the bathroom in silence.
Warm water poured over her skin, but she barely felt it, only a distant heat against a mind that was already numb, heavy, and drifting somewhere far away.
In just a few minutes, she stepped back into the room and stopped dead in her tracks.
Eva was already there, leaning against the edge of the table, arms folded watching her in silence, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.