Kamilah entered the mansion and saw her family hovering over Livia again, their expressions were a mixture of concern and something that looked almost like devotion.
Livia was seated on the couch in the main living area, her posture was delicate and her eyes wide and innocent, the perfect picture of a fragile flower who had been wronged.
Sigh... They probably found out how I treated Livia at the mall. I’m sure this little devil told them.
Kamilah had already anticipated it, had known the moment she walked through the door that the accusations would come flying. She had prepared herself for the familiar ritual—the yelling, the scolding, the cruel words designed to make her feel small.
It was the pattern of her entire life, the rhythm of her existence in this house. She had expected it, had braced for it, had almost welcomed the familiarity of it.
But as her family heard her words, they immediately cleared their throats and looked away. The reaction was so unexpected that Kamilah almost stopped in her tracks, her eyes are narrowing with suspicion.
Something was wrong. Something was different. The script she had memorized was not being followed, and the deviation made her uneasy.
"Kamilah, you’re back," Chris said, and his smile was warm, almost tentative. It was the kind of smile he usually reserved for Livia, the kind of smile that Kamilah had spent years yearning for and never received.
His voice was gentle, devoid of the sharp edge that usually accompanied his words when he spoke to her.
Dahlia’s eyes softened as she looked at her daughter, her expression was filled with something that looked almost like guilt. She didn’t speak, didn’t move toward Kamilah, but her gaze was fixed on her with an intensity that was entirely foreign.
"Why? You missed scolding me?" Kamilah approached them, her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She showed a smile that was clearly hiding its bitterness, but the bitterness was obvious, a thin veil over a well of pain that had been building for two lifetimes.
"Mama, Papa... Please don’t get mad at sister Kamilah. She probably didn’t mean to do that to me."
Livia’s voice was soft and trembling, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked at Kamilah with a mixture of fear and forgiveness, the picture of a martyr who had been wronged but was too kind to seek retribution.
It was a performance she had perfected over years of practice, a manipulation so subtle that most people never even noticed it was happening.
Kamilah’s right brow lifted slightly with shock, her expression shifted from sarcasm to genuine surprise. She had expected Livia to play the victim, had expected her to twist the story to make Kamilah look like the villain.
But there was something different in the air, something that made her pause.
Nice acting, but I’m not buying it. I wonder how those lies can really get into my family’s head?
And Kamilah stayed silent, waiting for her family to respond with their usual reactions. Someone would yell, someone would scold her, and definitely someone would belittle and badmouth her just to protect Livia.
That was the way it had always been, the way it would always be. She had accepted it long ago.
Kamilah braced herself, her muscles are tightening instinctively. She could almost feel the familiar weight of the accusations pressing down on her, the sharp sting of her father’s disappointment or her mother’s cold disapproval.
She waited for the inevitable explosion—the moment they would demand she apologize for ’bullying’ the fragile Livia.
But the explosion never came.
Instead, there was a heavy, awkward silence. Chris and Dahlia didn’t look at Livia with their usual adoration. Instead, they looked at her with an expression that bordered on suspicion, as if they were seeing through a transparent veil for the first time.
The air in the room felt thick, charged with something unspoken, as if the parents were struggling to process the words they were hearing in their heads—Kamilah’s internal voice, raw and cynical, echoing the truth of Livia’s manipulation.
Chris cleared his throat, but this time it wasn’t to scold. He looked at Livia, then back to Kamilah, his expression waw conflicted. His jaw was tightened, and his hands, which were usually so steady, seemed to tremble slightly at his sides.
"Livia... you don’t need to apologize for her," he said, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. It sounded forced, almost pained, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will.
Dahlia stepped forward, not to shield Livia, but to reach out toward Kamilah. Her fingers twitched as if she wanted to touch her daughter’s shoulder, but she hesitated, a flash of guilt crossing her features. Follow the newest chapters on novelping dot com.
The hesitation was telling—she didn’t know if her touch would be welcome, didn’t know if she had the right to comfort the daughter she had spent years ignoring.
"Kamilah, honey... Are you tired? Do you want some tea?" Dahlia asked, her voice was soft and uncertain.
Kamilah blinked, her expression was shifting from sarcasm to genuine confusion. She looked at her family, then at Livia—who was still wearing that mask of innocent martyrdom—and felt a surge of disorientation.
The script had changed. The roles were shifting, and for the first time, the ’usual reactions’ were missing. Her mother was offering her tea. Her father was defending her, even weakly. The world had turned upside down, and Kamilah didn’t know how to navigate it.
"Uhm... Not really..." Kamilah was clearly taken aback, her voice trailed off as she tried to process what was happening.
What the hell? Why is my mother acting like this all of a sudden? The thought ran through her mind, sharp and suspicious. She didn’t trust this sudden kindness.
She had learned long ago that kindness from her family always came with a price, always came with strings attached.
"Mama, Papa... Won’t you ask what sister Kamilah did?" Livia asked, her voice was still wrapped with innocence that made Kamilah hold back a scoff.
There was a hint of desperation in her tone now, a crack in the flawless facade. She was losing control of the narrative, and she knew it.
Kamilah watched her sister with a mixture of contempt and something that might have been pity. Livia was so predictable, so transparent in her manipulations. She had spent years perfecting her act, but now that the audience was no longer applauding, she was floundering.
"Well, I just told her she wanted to be Maeve’s mistress," Kamilah said, her voice flat and dismissive. "Is that enough? Can we all please stop acting like you guys have finally changed? Hahaha."
Her laugh was hollow, empty of any real humor. It was the laugh of someone who had given up on hoping for anything better, someone who had been disappointed so many times that disappointment was now the only thing she expected.
"You should all get mad and scold me the way you want. Clearly, Livia is waiting for that drama... Come on, I’m getting married next month. Show me some thrill."
Kamilah said it with a bright smile, her eyes glittering with a manic energy that was almost frightening. She was daring them, challenging them, practically begging them to revert to their old ways.
She wanted the familiarity of their cruelty, the comfort of their contempt. She wanted to be proven right.
I just knew this family won’t change, but that doesn’t mean I have to let them die.
Her words continued, and they entirely just stood there and listened to her two sides; one was being sarcastic and building walls, while the other one was speaking of protection with contempt.
The contradiction was jarring, the duality of her nature was laid bare for all to see. She hated them, and yet she wanted to save them. She despised them, and yet she couldn’t let them go.
"If you guys have nothing else to say, then I’m heading to my bedroom. Excuse me."
Kamilah was about to leave, but then her mother rushed to her, grabbing Kamilah’s arm in a desperate grip. The contact was sudden and unexpected, and Kamilah stopped in her tracks, her body was going rigid.
Kamilah cursed under her breath, clearly annoyed. But when she turned around, she was wearing a smile, a mask she had perfected over years of practice.
"Yes?" Kamilah asked, her voice carefully neutral.
Dahlia hesitated, her eyes searching Kamilah’s face for something—a hint of warmth, a flicker of the daughter she had once known. But all she found was a wall, smooth and impenetrable.
"Do you want... Uhm... How about we have a family dinner tonight? Bring Maeve," Dahlia said, her voice was hopeful and uncertain.
Kamilah scoffed, the sound was sharp and dismissive. "That’s new... Whatever. I’m going, don’t worry."
Dahlia showed a smile of relief, a smile that was almost pathetic in its desperation. Then Kamilah withdrew her arm and went upstairs to rest, her footsteps areechoing in the silence she left behind.
They weren’t just hearing her words; they were hearing the devastating contradiction of her heart. To hear that she expected them to abuse her—and that she actually longed for the ’thrill’ of it just so she could confirm her bleak expectations—was a psychological blow that left them reeling.
The parents exchanged a horrified look, their eyes were wide with a realization they couldn’t quite articulate. They had spent years treating Kamilah like a problem to be managed, a burden to be tolerated.
They had never stopped to consider that she might have feelings, that she might be hurting, that she might need them. And now, hearing the truth of her heart, they realized that they had failed her in ways they couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
But the most crushing part was the internal thought: ’I just knew this family won’t change, but that doesn’t mean I have to let them die.’
Chris felt his blood run cold.
The word ’die’ echoed in his mind, a portent of something terrible, something he couldn’t understand.
Dahlia’s hand drifted to her chest, her heart was pounding against her ribs. She didn’t understand the full context of the ’death’ Kamilah mentioned, but the implication that she was protecting them despite her hatred for them was a level of nobility and tragedy that made her feel utterly unworthy.
Her daughter, the one she had ignored and neglected, was trying to save them from something. And they had never even noticed.
Livia, meanwhile, stood in the center of the room, her mask of innocence was flickering.
For the first time, she felt the tide shifting; the undivided attention she usually commanded was gone, replaced by a thick, suffocating cloud of guilt emanating from the adults.
She didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t understand why her parents were suddenly so distant, why her siblings were looking at her with such strange expressions. But she knew that something had changed, and she didn’t like it.
Upstairs, Kamilah entered her room and shut the door, the click of the lock providing a momentary sense of sanctuary.
She threw herself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The confusion of the morning was still humming in her veins, a low-grade anxiety that she couldn’t quite shake.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to be the villains of her story—predictable and cruel. This sudden kindness was far more unsettling than their hatred had ever been.
She didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know how to protect herself from it. Hatred she understood. Hatred was simple. Hatred was safe.
But this... This was something else entirely.
She reached for her phone, her mind drifting back to the ’manchild’ she had left at the curb. A small, genuine flicker of amusement crossed her face.
The image of Maeve’s stunned expression, the way her jaw had dropped, the way she had been rendered speechless by a single word—it was a memory she would treasure.
It was a small victory, but it was hers.
If her family was acting strange and her wife was acting like a possessive puppy, this second life was turning into a far more chaotic game than she had planned.
But for the first time, Kamilah felt a spark of something that might have been excitement. The board was set, the pieces were moving, and she was finally the one making the moves.
She set her phone aside and closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of rest. The family dinner was tonight, and she needed to be prepared.
She needed to be sharp, to be careful, to be ready for whatever curveballs her family and Maeve threw at her.
But for now, she would rest. She would gather her strength. She would prepare for the battles to come.
Because this time, she was not going to lose.