The Heart made of Ashes

Chapter 10: Shattered Pages

At first, the villa felt like a dream. Wide marble floors echoed under their tiny shoes, rooms so big they could chase each other endlessly, and a garden that looked like it belonged to a storybook. Oscar ran around exploring, Theo laughed chasing his toy car across the smooth floor, and Velora’s heart softened for a moment. Maybe Papa was right. Maybe this could be fun.

But beneath the laughter was a layer of awkwardness. The air smelled too clean, too unfamiliar. And though there were more than eight servants around—cleaning, cooking, arranging things—Velora felt something missing. Something her heart ached for, even in the middle of all that luxury.

In the very beginning, Flecter had made one thing clear. “Elena is not needed here,” he said firmly, sending Sandy’s sister back to her father’s home. He wanted the house filled with staff, not outsiders. Velora overheard those words and felt a strange relief—at least one less stranger in her home.

But Sandy didn’t accept it. She smiled on the surface, nodded to Flecter, yet her eyes burned with quiet defiance. If Elena could not stay because there were servants, then she would make sure there were no servants left.

And slowly, one by one, they disappeared. First the gardener, then the cook. The maid who used to oil Velora’s hair was dismissed after a small “mistake.” Another was scolded for “wasting food” and sent away. Each time, Sandy sighed to Flecter, “They are careless. I’ll handle it myself.”

Velora noticed the house growing emptier. The villa was still beautiful, but the silence of missing footsteps echoed in the halls. She almost forgot what her father had said about Sandy being “just like the maids.” Here, Sandy wasn’t just helping—she was replacing everyone else.

Finally, with the house stripped bare of servants, Sandy spoke to Flecter with a weary face.“Flecter, I’m looking after everything—the villa, the children. I can’t do this all alone. I need my sister.”

This time, there was no refusal. Flecter, tired from work and unwilling to argue, nodded. “Fine. Bring her.”

That night, Elena returned with her small bag, She walked in smiling, as if she had always belonged there. For the children, it was the beginning of a new kind of suffocation.

For the first six months in the villa, everything looked strangely normal. Sandy and Elena seemed softer, careful, almost overly sweet. They tried to gain the trust of Velora, Oscar, and Theo. Smiles were frequent, gentle voices replaced sharp ones, and they moved carefully—as if taming wild birds that might fly away at the slightest harshness.

Trey, Sandy’s son, slowly became a part of their days. Being the same age as Theo, he blended in easily. Together, the two boys became partners in mischief, laughing, running around, and sometimes even getting scolded together.

But Aleesa, Sandy’s younger daughter, remained distant. She was only six years old and often started crying for no reason. The three siblings didn’t know how to handle it. Oscar rolled his eyes, Theo grew impatient, and Velora, who had always grown up playing with her brothers, had little interest in dolls or girlish activities. She preferred car racing games, WWE matches on TV, and anything that let her keep pace with Oscar and Theo. Aleesa’s tears felt foreign to that world.

Yet on the surface, it all seemed to work. The five children studied together under a tutor Flecter had arranged, their books spread across one large table. They went to school in the same van, though not all in the same schools. Only Theo was shifted—transferred into Trey’s class at his school.

It was Sandy’s suggestion.“Theo is getting too mischievous,” she said sweetly. “If he studies with Trey, he’ll stay on track. Trey can help him.”

Flecter agreed, not questioning further. And so, Theo and Trey began spending even more time together—classmates in school, playmates at home.

At first glance, it looked like a blended family finding rhythm. The children laughed, studied, played, even met their mother occasionally. On the outside, there was a picture of comfort.

For the first six months in the villa, everything looked strangely normal. Sandy and Elena seemed softer, careful, almost overly sweet. They tried to gain the trust of Velora, Oscar, and Theo. Smiles were frequent, gentle voices replaced sharp ones, and they moved carefully—as if taming wild birds that might fly away at the slightest harshness.

Trey, Sandy’s son, slowly became a part of their days. Being the same age as Theo, he blended in easily. Together, the two boys became partners in mischief, laughing, running around, and sometimes even getting scolded together.

But Aleesa, Sandy’s younger daughter, remained distant. She was only six years old and often started crying for no reason. The three siblings didn’t know how to handle it. Oscar rolled his eyes, Theo grew impatient, and Velora, who had always grown up playing with her brothers, had little interest in dolls or girlish activities. She preferred car racing games, WWE matches on TV, and anything that let her keep pace with Oscar and Theo. Aleesa’s tears felt foreign to that world.

Yet on the surface, it all seemed to work. The five children studied together under a tutor Flecter had arranged, their books spread across one large table. They went to school in the same van, though not all in the same schools. Only Theo was shifted—transferred into Trey’s class at his school.

It was Sandy’s suggestion.“Theo is getting too mischievous,” she said sweetly. “If he studies with Trey, he’ll stay on track. Trey can help him.”

Flecter agreed, not questioning further. And so, Theo and Trey began spending even more time together—classmates in school, playmates at home.

At first glance, it looked like a blended family finding rhythm. The children laughed, studied, played, even met their mother occasionally. On the outside, there was a picture of comfort.

But underneath, Velora’s heart sometimes felt restless. Something in the air didn’t feel like home.

Flecter had become calmer in those days. Seeing his children slowly adjust to the new environment, he let his guard down. He no longer asked much about their studies or their moods, trusting Sandy to manage everything. With the business growing, he buried himself in work and left the house matters—his children—to her.

The kids noticed the difference. At first, they were happy not to have their father’s strict eyes always watching. But slowly, they began leaning on Sandy, depending on her for meals, uniforms, and even small choices. What Flecter didn’t realize was that the more he stepped away, the more Sandy stepped in—filling a space she was never meant to fill.

Then, one quiet afternoon, Velora experienced something that made her heart twist in a way she had never felt before.

She was sitting in the drawing room, watching television. Outside the window, her brothers were playing with Trey and the watchman, their shouts and laughter echoing in the courtyard. Velora held the remote tightly, lost in the movie she had just discovered—a story of two sisters.

On screen, the girls laughed together, braided each other’s hair, and tried on dresses, their bond unshakable. Velora’s chest ached. She whispered to herself, almost dreamily:“Ahh… maybe if I had a sister, my life would look like this too.”

Elena, who was dusting the table nearby, froze. She glanced at Velora—those innocent words were harmless, but she knew how Sandy would take them. Without thinking twice, she hurried off to the kitchen to repeat what she heard.

Moments later, Sandy stormed into the room, her face tight with anger.“So… you think you have no sister?” she demanded.

Velora turned to her, startled at first, then smiled proudly.“No. I’m the only daughter.”

Sandy’s eyes darkened, her voice sharper now.“Aleesa is your sister. Your biological sister.”

Velora blinked, confused at the sudden claim. Then, innocently, she laughed.“No… she’s your daughter. I have only two brothers.”

The room went silent. Velora’s laughter faded as she saw the rage flicker in Sandy’s eyes, a rage that didn’t belong in a home filled with children.

For the first time, Velora felt something different in Sandy’s presence—not care, not authority, but a threat.

Sandy’s fury exploded like a storm. She marched into the kitchen, her shouts echoing through the lounge. Velora stood frozen, eyes wide, her small body stiff with dread.

Then came the first crash. A teacup shattered against the tiles, pieces flying dangerously close to Velora’s feet. She gasped, stumbling back, her tiny hands trembling.

“You don’t consider my daughter your sister?” Sandy’s voice thundered, louder than Velora had ever heard. Another teacup smashed. “She is your sister!”

Crash. Crash. One after another, teacups flew from Sandy’s hands, splintering into sharp fragments that scattered like knives across the floor.

Velora’s heart pounded wildly. Her father never hit her. Her mother never screamed at her. But now—this woman, with fire in her eyes and rage twisting her face—looked less like a person and more like a monster.

One cup landed so close the shards skidded across her toes. Velora flinched so violently her whole body trembled. Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream but the sound died inside her.

Terrified, she ran. Her legs moved before her mind could think. Bare feet slipping, tears streaming, she darted down the hall. Behind her, Sandy’s voice still roared, but Velora didn’t dare look back.

She threw herself into her room, dashed to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. Her fingers fumbled, finally locking it. She slid down the wall, knees to chest, shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

To her, she wasn’t hiding from Sandy anymore. She was hiding from a monster that wanted to destroy her.

Inside the bathroom, Velora curled into herself, whispering through broken sobs, “Mom, please save me… Papa, save me… someone, please…” But no one came. The silence was louder than her cries.

Hours passed. Her small body ached from sitting on the cold floor, her cheeks damp, eyes swollen. Still, no one knocked—until suddenly, a gentle tap came at the door.

“Velora, dear… come outside,” a soft, sweet voice called. It was Elena.

Velora’s heart skipped. That voice felt like a miracle after the storm she had faced. Slowly, cautiously, she listened again.

“Velora, don’t be scared. Come, dear, I’m here,” Elena’s words floated like honey through the door.

Velora’s trembling hand reached for the lock. The door creaked open. Her face was red, her eyes puffed and swollen. Elena gasped quietly, startled at the sight—Flecter would be home soon, and this couldn’t be seen.

She quickly wrapped her arms around Velora, hugging her tight. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here,” she whispered, stroking her hair. For a child who desperately needed comfort, the embrace felt like safety.

Elena guided her gently, made her take a warm bath, dressed her in clean clothes, combed her long hair. Slowly, Velora’s lips curved into a fragile smile. She was too innocent to see the trap.

Hand in hand, they stepped out together. From across the room, Sandy watched. Elena gave her a subtle nod.

Sandy’s face softened instantly, voice dripping with sweetness. She pulled Velora into a hug. “Oh, darling, I made your favorite dish today. Come eat. And don’t tell Papa anything about what happened, hmm?”

Velora, still fragile and longing for peace, nodded. She didn’t know it then, but her innocence was the very thing they were playing with.

When Flecter came home that evening, Sandy calmly told him, “Velora was just tired, she slept the whole day.”The lie was delivered with such ease that no one suspected the storm behind it.

But that day was only the beginning.

Slowly, Sandy started handing Velora responsibilities no child her age should bear. After school, while other children rested or played, Velora was told to clean the house, wash dishes, even help with cooking. She obeyed silently, too scared to resist.

At the same time, Sandy twisted things against Oscar. Whenever he lost his temper in childish fights with Theo or Trey, Sandy exaggerated it in front of Flecter: “Oscar is always violent… he’s disturbing everyone.” Soon, Oscar was marked as the “bad kid.” To keep him “under control,” Flecter began taking him directly to the company after school, stripping him of his freedom.

Theo too was caught in Sandy’s game. Whenever there was garbage to throw, Sandy handed Trey a small, light bag while giving Theo an oversized, heavy shopper that was impossible for his little arms to carry. “See, both boys are helping,” she’d say with a smile, pretending to be fair. But everyone could see the injustice—except Flecter, who believed her every word.

Months passed like this, each day carving deeper wounds into the children.

And then there was Elena. Her jealousy of Velora burned quietly but fiercely. Raised in luxury by her mother, Velora’s clothes, manners, and even her graceful way of speaking carried a natural elegance. To Elena, this was unbearable.

Velora, still just a girl, was already taller, her body more graceful than Elena’s, who was twelve years older. Instead of lifting Velora up, Elena tried to push her down. She would constantly sit close to Flecter, cracking jokes, laughing loudly, trying to take a place in his eyes that wasn’t hers. Each gesture was a dagger aimed at Velora, whispering: “You are nothing. You don’t belong.”

Velora began to feel suffocated by Elena’s constant interference. Elena poked into everything—her wardrobe, her schoolbag, even the smallest details of what she was cooking. Nothing was private anymore.

And it didn’t stop there. Elena started reshaping Velora’s very identity. “Wear heavy makeup… try this dark lipstick… look more mature,” she’d insist. Velora, uncomfortable and unsure, obeyed. One evening, when they were preparing for a party, Elena painted Velora’s face with layers of makeup, making her look years older than her true age—while Aleesa, her own daughter, was made to look sweet and beautiful, like a doll.

Velora, embarrassed and uneasy, tried to protest. But as soon as Flecter saw her, his expression hardened. “Why this heavy makeup?” he scolded harshly.

Before Velora could speak, Elena jumped in, her voice dripping with false innocence: “She was showing tantrums… what could I do?”

And just like that, the blame was pushed onto Velora again. Her voice was silenced.

Slowly, this became a pattern—her opinions suppressed, her protests twisted into defiance. Whenever she tried to speak, she was either shut down or scolded. And after every scolding, Velora would retreat into the corners of her room or lock herself in the washroom, crying silently, with no one to comfort her.

Her tears became routine. Her loneliness became normal.

Velora often gathered the courage to tell her mother what was happening. Each time, Nora would call Flecter, pleading, “Please look after them. They’re still children.”

But Flecter’s answer was always the same, dismissive and sharp: “They’re perfectly fine. Velora is just immature, too pampered by you and me. She needs to toughen up.”

And one day, when Velora went to her mother again, desperate for comfort, Nora’s voice broke her completely: “Velora, please… my life is already a mess. Don’t give me more stress.”

That was it. Something inside her collapsed. She felt like the loneliest soul in the world.

Even Oscar, once her partner in mischief and fights, was no longer by her side. He left early for school every morning and returned late in the evening with Flecter. Slowly, he became a stranger too.

Velora was surrounded by people, yet utterly alone.

Theo, too, often cried at night, whispering for his mother in his sleep. The emptiness of those nights stretched into years, and just like that, two years passed.

Velora was now in Class 9, preparing for her final exams. One evening, as she pulled out a book from the shelf, it slipped, leaving the rest of the shelf slightly disorganized. Sandy noticed and, with fury in her eyes, yanked the books out and hurled them outside the room—straight into the dirty street water.

“Can’t you organize your books? If you can’t, then throw them away!” Sandy’s voice was like thunder.

Velora froze, staring in horror. Her practical notebooks were drenched, tomorrow was her chemistry practical—her final exam—and Sandy had destroyed it all. Her heart broke, and for the first time, she snapped back through her tears:

“Stop ruining our lives! You’ve already ruined it enough!”

Her voice trembled with pain.

Sandy’s face twisted with rage. “How dare you? What have I done, huh? You’re the one ruining my life! Disgusting! Your mother told you to say this to me, didn’t she?”

Velora’s strength shattered. She felt helpless, small, voiceless—like she had always been. This had become her routine: being blamed, being silenced. She fled to her room, shut the door, and buried her face in her pillow, sobbing.

Her hands shook as she texted her best friend from school, the only soul who ever made her feel seen.

That night, Velora understood something bitter—sometimes the cruelest wounds don’t come from strangers but from the ones forced into your life. She realized tears had become her daily language, silence her shield. Childhood had been stolen from her, replaced with burdens she never asked for.

But deep inside, under all the pain, a small flame burned quietly: one day she would rise, and all the voices that tried to break her would tremble at the strength of the girl they once silenced.