The Belvedere family left by the afternoon, their departure marked by a flurry of polite goodbyes and promises to be in touch soon regarding the details of the engagement.
Kamilah stood at the entrance of the Worthington mansion, her posture was perfect, her smile was fixed in place as she watched the black cars pull away from the driveway and disappear down the tree-lined path.
She maintained the facade until the last vehicle vanished from sight, and only then did she allow herself to breathe, her shoulders are relaxing just a fraction as the weight of the performance began to lift.
She turned and walked back into the mansion, her heels are clicking against the marble floors with a measured rhythm. The foyer was grand, as always, with its high ceilings and its crystal chandelier that cast fragmented rainbows across the walls.
But there was something different in the air now, something tense and expectant that made Kamilah’s skin prickle with awareness. She entered the main living area and saw her mother’s face lit up with excitement and joy, an expression so foreign on Dahlia Worthington’s features that Kamilah almost stopped in her tracks.
"What you did was... Unexpected," Chris spoke, his voice was carrying a note of bewilderment that he didn’t bother to hide. He was standing near the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes fixed on his daughter with an intensity that bordered on suspicion.
Kamilah just smiled politely at her father, her expression was serene and unreadable.
Unexpected. Yeah, because all you guys think is that I’ll ruin my image to the Belvedere, and what? Livia is the righteous one again? How delightful.
The words ran through Kamilah’s mind with the sharpness of a blade, each syllable was dripping with a bitterness that had been festering for two lifetimes. But no one expected they would hear it. No one expected that the thoughts she kept so carefully hidden would suddenly become public property.
Dahlia’s smile vanished the moment she heard those words. Her face went pale, her eyes widening as she looked around the room, searching for the source of the voice. She is not aware yet that it was Kamilah’s thoughts, that the daughter she had dismissed for years was suddenly broadcasting her innermost feelings for everyone to hear.
Did I hear that correctly? Chris thought, his brow furrowing as he tried to process what had just happened. He glanced at his wife, saw the confusion mirrored in her eyes, and felt a cold knot of unease form in his stomach.
Garett, Frank, Samantha, Tyler, and Christine, Kamilah’s siblings, all seemed to hear it too. They exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to something that looked almost like fear. Except for Livia, who remained blissfully unaware of the thoughts that were suddenly echoing through the room.
"I just thought that it would be better for me if I act as a Worthington," Kamilah said, her voice was calm and measured. She looked at her father with steady eyes, and her smile was never wavering. "I do not want to embarrass our family."
Yeah, and if I do embarrass our family, I will be forced to sleep outside the mansion again!
Once again, they heard her thoughts. The words were crystal clear, as if Kamilah had spoken them aloud, but her lips had not moved. She was standing there with that same serene smile, looking for all the world like the perfect, dutiful daughter, while her mind broadcast a truth that was far less flattering.
The family confirmed it then. They could hear her thoughts. All of them. Every single one of them, except for Livia, could hear the private musings of the daughter they had spent years ignoring.
But they wanted to make sure, so they acted like they weren’t hearing anything. They composed their faces into masks of polite interest, pretending that nothing unusual had happened, even as their minds raced with questions and fears.
A heavy, suffocating tension descended upon the foyer. The Worthington family stood frozen, their expressions were a grotesque mixture of confusion and sheer disbelief. They looked at each other, eyes wide, silently questioning if they had all suffered a collective hallucination.
But the voice had been so clear—so cutting and drenched in a spite they had never associated with the timid daughter they used to ignore. It was impossible to dismiss it as imagination.
Dahlia cleared her throat, her voice was sounding brittle as she tried to maintain her maternal facade. "A Worthington... Yes, of course. That is exactly what we expect from you, dear."
She stepped forward, her eyes are scanning Kamilah’s face with an intensity that bordered on suspicion. She was looking for something, anything, that would explain the voice she had heard.
A twitch, a tell, a sign that Kamilah was somehow speaking without moving her lips. But there was nothing. Just that perfect, serene smile and those calm, unreadable eyes.
"Your... Sudden change in demeanor is commendable," Dahlia continued, her words careful and measured. "But we must ensure you don’t overextend yourself. One doesn’t simply demand ’unlimited wishes’ without considering the repercussions."
Chris narrowed his eyes, his voice was low and probing. He was trying to gauge if Kamilah was truly aware of what she was projecting, if she knew that her thoughts were no longer private. "Exactly. While the Belvederes seem pleased, we cannot afford a fallout. Tell us, Kamilah... What exactly is your ’plan’ for this marriage? You seem far more invested in this arrangement than you ever were before."
Beside them, Tyler and Samantha exchanged a glance, their faces are twisted in a mixture of curiosity and emerging fear. They had spent years mocking her silence, laughing at her quietness, treating her like a ghost that haunted the edges of their perfect family. Now, the noise coming from her mind was far more terrifying than her quietness ever was.
When I get my first allowance from this marriage, I’ll immediately buy a comfortable penthouse!
Kamilah was excited to think that way, her mind was already picturing the sleek, modern apartment she would purchase with the Belvedere money. A place of her own, away from the suffocating presence of her family, away from the cold stares and the whispered insults. But her family heard her, and the image of her escape hit them like a physical blow.
"Sister Kamilah, you should be careful with Ms. Maeve," Livia suddenly warned, her voice was dripping with fake concern. She had noticed the shift in the room, the way her family’s attention had drifted away from her and toward Kamilah, and she didn’t like it.
She needed to regain control, to remind everyone that she was the one who mattered, the one who deserved their love and protection. "I don’t think she is a nice person."
Sigh... What a best actress, really.
Kamilah’s internal voice was laced with a weariness that spoke of years of exposure to Livia’s manipulations. She looked at her adopted sister with eyes that saw through the facade, that recognized the performance for what it was.
Do you really think you can fool me, Livia? It’s such a pity my family keeps falling for your same trick. Sigh... Only if I didn’t die in my past life, they wouldn’t face a tragic ending.
The entire family froze. The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade, suspended in the moment before the drop. Died? Kamilah died?! The thought echoed through their minds in unison, a chorus of disbelief and horror that none of them could voice aloud.
"Thank you for worrying about me, Livia," Kamilah said, her voice was warm and gracious. She smiled at her sister, the expression was so genuine that it would have fooled anyone who hadn’t heard the thoughts behind it. "I appreciate your concern. But I think Maeve is a decent person. Whatever happens, I’ll figure it out."
The silence that followed Kamilah’s answer was absolute, a vacuum of shock that seemed to suck the air out of the room. While Livia looked smugly satisfied that her "warning" had been heard, the rest of the Worthingtons were spiraling into a state of mental panic.
The phrase "died in my past life" echoed through their minds like a thunderclap, impossible to ignore, impossible to understand.
They didn’t know how to process it. Was it a metaphor? A mental breakdown? A cry for attention? Or something far more impossible, something that defied the laws of reality and reason?
Dahlia’s hand drifted to her chest, her heart racing beneath her palm. She looked at Kamilah—really looked at her—and for the first time, she saw not a daughter, but a stranger wearing her daughter’s skin.
The coldness in those internal thoughts was a jagged blade, slicing through the illusion of their perfect family dynamic and revealing the rotting core beneath.
Livia blinked, her expression was flickering from faux-concern to genuine confusion. She was the only one who hadn’t heard the internal monologue, the only one who was still trapped in the dark about what was happening. The sudden, intense reaction from her parents and siblings left her momentarily blindsided, and she looked around the room with narrowing eyes, realizing she was missing a piece of the conversation.
Kamilah suddenly coughed, the sound was sharp and unexpected in the tense silence. She averted her head, covering her mouth with her hand as the coughs continued, wracking her body with a violence that seemed out of place in her healthy frame.
"Sorry," Kamilah apologized, her voice was hoarse between coughs.
"Kamilah, are you sick?" Samantha approached, her brow furrowed with concern. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand to Kamilah’s forehead, checking for a fever.
Kamilah’s eyes widened in shock at the contact. The gesture was so foreign, so unexpected, that she didn’t know how to react. Her sister was touching her. Her sister, who had always treated her with cold indifference, who had laughed at her struggles and dismissed her pain, was now checking her temperature like a concerned caregiver.
Eh?! Why is she suddenly so concerned?! She used to hit me when Livia lied to her face.
Samantha heard the thought, and her hand stilled against Kamilah’s forehead. The words struck her like a physical blow, a reminder of all the times she had chosen Livia over her own flesh and blood.
She remembered the arguments, the accusations, the way she had always assumed that Kamilah was the problem. She remembered the times she had raised her hand against her sister, not because Kamilah deserved it, but because she thought Kamilah hurt Livia.
A wave of guilt crashed over her, so powerful that it nearly knocked her off her feet. She softened, her hand lingering on Kamilah’s forehead for a moment longer than necessary, her eyes were starting to fill with something that looked almost like remorse.
"I’m fine... Sister," Kamilah said, withdrawing her hand and looking away. She couldn’t bear to let Samantha get too close to her, couldn’t bear to hope that it might be genuine. She had been burned too many times by false kindness, by affection that was given only to be taken away.
Livia saw them hovering over Kamilah, saw the shift in attention, and she didn’t like it. She needed to redirect the focus back to herself, to remind everyone that she was the fragile one, the one who needed their love and protection. So she did what she always did when she needed attention.
She feigned like she was fainting. Get faster updates on g.com.
"Livia!" The siblings said in unison, and their attention immediately shifted from Kamilah to their adopted sister.
But Kamilah didn’t react much. She just watched, her expression was carefully neutral, as her siblings rushed to Livia’s side.
"Livia, are you okay?" Garett asked, the eldest son, as he held Livia and made sure to support her weight. His arms were wrapped around her, steadying her, and protecting her from falling.
"I’m fine, brother. No need to worry," Livia murmured, her voice was weak and fragile, the perfect picture of vulnerability.
Hmph. Fools. You actually believe her fainting? Hahaha, I already watched this scene in my past life so I’ll skip this.
Kamilah’s internal voice was filled with contempt, a bitter amusement that spoke of years of watching the same performance play out over and over. She had seen Livia faint a hundred times, had watched her siblings rush to her side, had felt the sting of being forgotten in the rush to care for the "poor, fragile" adopted daughter.
"I’ll retreat back to my bedroom," Kamilah announced, her voice was calm and steady. "I’ll excuse myself first."
She turned and walked away, her footsteps echoed through the foyer as she made her way toward the staircase. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She knew exactly what she was leaving behind, and she knew exactly what would happen next.
As Kamilah’s footsteps faded down the hallway, the atmosphere in the foyer shifted from confusion to a jarring, discordant chaos. Livia remained draped in Garett’s arms, her eyes half-closed in a practiced swoon, but the siblings weren’t looking at her with the same mindless devotion as before.
They were glancing toward the hallway where Kamilah had disappeared, the echoes of her internal laughter was still ringing in their ears.
Samantha stepped back from Livia, her hand was still tingling from the brief contact with Kamilah. The memory of the thought—’She used to hit me’—struck her like a physical blow. She looked at her hands, a sudden, visceral wave of guilt crashing over her.
The apathetic mask she usually wore was cracking, replaced by a hollow feeling of dread. How many times had she dismissed her sister’s pain or hurt her for the sake of Livia’s whims?
"Did you all... Hear that?" Tyler whispered, his voice was shaking. He didn’t look at Livia; he looked at his father. The "died in my past life" comment was haunting him, casting a morbid shadow over the entire room. "What the hell was that? Is she insane, or are we?"
Chris Worthington stared at his eldest son, Garett, who was still supporting Livia. Garett’s expression was tight. For the first time, the "angelic" sight of Livia seemed performative.
He could still hear Kamilah’s mental sneer: ’Fools.’ It was a cold, objective observation that stripped the glamour away from the scene. Livia’s "fainting" felt less like a crisis and more like a script that had already been read a thousand times.
Dahlia looked at her husband, her face was pale. "If she’s speaking the truth... If something happened to her..." she trailed off, the thought of Kamilah’s death creating a void of fear she couldn’t name.
For years, Kamilah had been the quiet backdrop to their lives, a convenient shadow. Now that the shadow was speaking in a voice only they could hear, they realized they didn’t know their own daughter at all—and they were terrified of what she knew about them.
Usually, this would have triggered an immediate flurry of pampering. Dahlia would have rushed to Livia’s side, and the siblings would have practically carried her up the stairs, showering her with concern. But today, the air felt different. The rhythmic, hypnotic pull of Livia’s manipulation was suddenly visible, like a curtain being pulled back to reveal a cheap stage set.
Chris looked at Livia, and for the first time in years, he didn’t see a fragile child in need of protection. He saw the "best actress" Kamilah had described. The phrase ’Fools’ echoed in his mind, and it stung because it felt accurate. He felt a strange, sudden repulsion toward the girl he had adored.
"Yes, Livia. Go to your room," Chris replied, his voice was devoid of its usual warmth. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t an invitation to linger either. He didn’t move to help her; he simply stood there, his gaze cold and questioning.
Garett slowly loosened his grip, letting Livia stand on her own feet. He didn’t offer his arm. He didn’t check her temperature. He just stared at her, wondering if this "dizziness" was just another one of the tricks Kamilah had warned them about.
Livia’s eyes flickered—a momentary flash of confusion and irritation crossing her face. She could feel the shift in the room; the blind devotion she relied on was wavering, replaced by a heavy, suffocating suspicion.
Dahlia didn’t even speak. She just nodded vaguely, her mind was still trapped on the image of Kamilah’s hollow, laughing internal voice. The "angel" of the house was suddenly looking very human, and the human they had discarded was starting to feel like a ghost haunting them all.
Livia stood there for a moment, her eyes are darting between her family members, searching for the warmth and concern that had always been there. But all she found were cold stares and questioning eyes, the kind of looks that made her feel like a stranger in her own home.
She opened her mouth to speak, to weave another web of lies and manipulation, but the words died in her throat.
Because for the first time in her life, Livia Worthington had no idea what to say.