(Virginia's POV)
The new house is everything I imagined.
Modern. Clean. Nothing like the museum of memories that James and Blair called home. Every corner of that place screamed Scarlett's name – her photos on the mantle, her childhood artwork still hanging in the hallway, her presence haunting every room like a ghost.
But this house? This house is mine.
"What do you think, sweetheart?" Blair asks, her voice eager as we stand in what will be my bedroom. "We can paint it any color you want. Maybe that soft pink you loved as a child?"
I want to roll my eyes. She doesn't know what I loved as a child. She wasn't there for my childhood. But instead, I smile sweetly and shake my head.
"Actually, I was thinking something bolder. Maybe emerald green? Or deep navy?"
The confusion on her face
