"Clarice, the attic's just full of junk. Why are you even opening it?" Margaret said with a half-smile, pretending she didn't get the point at all.
Clarice paused for a second, already sensing this was their way of getting back at her.
It was always like this—whenever she stood up for herself, they'd take it out on her sister.
And Charles? All he saw was Margaret and Lydia. He never spared a thought for her or Sophia.
"Auntie," Clarice's voice softened as she looked at Margaret pleadingly, "Sophia's burning up with fever. Please, just open the door and let me see her."
Only then did Margaret bother to glance at Clarice. She gave a small laugh. "Clarice, it's not that I don't want to. You know the rules—your father has to agree first."
Just as she finished speaking, Char
