Hazel slowly lifted her head, her eyes cooling into a dark, icy calm that made the air around her feel sharper. She raised her eyebrows with a cold expression, crossing her arms in front of her chest in a posture that was both defensive and powerful. The girl who used to shrink her shoulders and lower her gaze was gone. What stood there now was someone who refused to be erased.
She looked at the three people clinging to each other on the floor, her voice steady when she spoke.
“This is the house my mother gave me. My name is on the property certificate. If anyone has to leave,” Hazel said, each word landing with weight, “it is those who are occupying it illegally.”
Her tone did not waver. It did not c***k under old memories or emotional wounds. The statement fell like judgment from a pl
