PROLOGUE
972 Words
꧁ Calista
༺༺༒༻༻
"Help! Help me! Someone help me!"
My feet stopped moving as the small and frantic voice cut through the air.
I had been trekking home again…Mama would kill me if she discovered that I had ditched the driver again.
But there was something about the walk home that I could never resist, the way I could just bask in nature, let the warmth of the sun kiss my skin and the smell of earth fill my nostrils.
The screaming came again.
"Help! Please, someone help me!"
I dropped my school bag and ran in the direction of the voice.
I pushed through the gap in the hedge, branches snagging at my uniform, and saw him immediately — a little boy, younger than me by a couple of years, thrashing in the water with wide, terrified eyes.
I did not stop to think. I kicked off my shoes, grabbed the edge of the pool, and lowered myself in. The water came up to my chest and the cold of it hit me like a slap, but I waded toward him, grabbed him under the arms, and dragged him to the shallow end until his feet found the bottom.
He collapsed against me, coughing and shaking, his fingers curling into my already ruined school blouse.
We sat on the pool's edge for a moment, both of us catching our breath. His face was red from crying and exertion, his hair plastered flat against his forehead.
He looked up at me with enormous eyes, “You…you saved my life.”
“Oh, it is nothing. Thank goodness I was here, right? How are you feeling? What are you doing here all alone?”
“I could ask you the same.” He fired back, and I rolled my eyes at the defensiveness in his tone.
“Well, I’m not the one who was drawing a few minutes ago. Are you too far from home?”
He paused for a moment as if contemplating what he should tell me, then shook his head, “No…not at all. My…dad and I were visiting some family in the neighborhood.”
“Well, I am glad you are fine,” I said, standing up and picking up my shoes, “Be careful next time. Goodbye!! Get home safe.”
“Wait!” He called as I turned to leave, “Who are you and what is your name?”
I opened my mouth to answer, and then I heard the distant sound of the estate gate closing.
Oh No!!
It had gotten a lot later than I realized.
Mama was going to kill me. My driver had definitely called the house by now. I could already picture the look on her face and my stomach dropped three floors.
I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my soaked bag from the grass.
"I'm the daughter of the Ashford family," I told him quickly, already backing away. "My father is Edmund Ashford. Tell someone to take you home, okay? Don't come near this pool again!"
And then I ran.
I ran the whole way back, my wet uniform clinging to my skin and my shoes squelching with every step, rehearsing my excuses in my head and praying that Mama hadn't already sent someone looking for me.
By the time the house came into view, I was breathless and dripping and already feeling a sting of guilt about leaving that little boy so abruptly.
I would find him tomorrow, I told myself. I would make sure he was alright.
I pushed through the front door and stopped.
My father's voice hit me first — loud, jagged, nothing like the low steady sound I had known my entire life.
My father doesn't yell.
Not ever.
He was a composed man, a quiet man, and the sound tearing through the house didn't even seem like it belonged to him.
It took me a moment to accept that it did.
I followed it with my heart in my throat.
What I saw when I reached the sitting room doorway made my legs go slow.
Mama was sitting in the armchair by the window — the one she always curled up in with her books on Sunday mornings. But she wasn't reading. She was just sitting there, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her eyes so swollen and red that I barely recognized her face.
She had been crying and Daddy was standing over her.
And beside him stood a woman I had never seen before, one hand resting on the shoulder of a little girl who looked a year or two younger than me.
The girl had a pink bow in her hair. She was staring at me with wide, curious eyes like I was the strange one for being confused.
I didn't understand any of it. But something in my chest had already started to ache in a way I had no name for yet.
“I cannot understand why you are being so selfish right now,” my father yelled, pointing at my mum. “This house is enormous. We have more than enough rooms, and they have nowhere to stay. Am I supposed to cast out my own flesh and blood because of your selfishness and greed—"
"Daddy?" I whispered and everyone turned to me.
My father's expression softened instantly when he saw me, and then he straightened and said, almost calmly, like the yelling had never happened:
"Good. I’m so glad you are here baby girl. I have some people I would love you to meet.”
He gestured toward the little girl in the pink bow.
"This is Isolde. Your new sister." He nodded toward the woman beside him. "And this is your new stepmother. They will be living with us from now on.”
- Writer
