Chapter 3: The Heroine’s Shadow

His voice was sharp, louder than necessary. The staff stilled, waiting to see what would happen.

"You’ve always been well-mannered. Why act so petty now?"

"Savannah’s all alone, and it’s hard enough for her to stay here. She just wants a room she likes."

"After all we’ve done for you, is this how you repay us?"

I bit my lip: "But Mom picked the Magnolia Room for me…"

I tried to keep my voice from trembling, but it cracked anyway. The memory of Mom’s gentle hands guiding me through yoga poses in that room flashed through my mind.

When I was little and sickly, Mom gave me that big room, taught me yoga, helped me get stronger.

She’d open the windows wide, letting in the breeze. We’d laugh as we stretched, her voice calm and encouraging.

That room is full of memories of us.

The walls were covered in art we made together, the bookshelves lined with stories she read to me. Every corner held a piece of her.

Now that Mom’s gone, how can he just give it away?

It felt like losing her all over again. I bit back tears, determined not to let them see me break.

Dad frowned, but seeing Savannah’s disappointed look, raised his voice:

He glanced at Savannah, then back at me, his face set. "Your mother’s gone. It’s better for you to move out, so you won’t keep thinking about her."

He didn’t wait for me to answer. "That’s final."

He turned on his heel, leading Savannah away. I watched them go, my heart pounding in my ears.

He led Savannah away, not even glancing at me.

I stood alone in the hallway, the echo of their footsteps fading. The Magnolia Room—my sanctuary—was no longer mine.

Dad knew how much that room meant to me.

He’d watched Mom and me in there, heard our laughter. He knew, and he didn’t care.

But one word from Savannah, and it was gone.

That’s how it worked now. One request from her, and the world shifted to make it happen.

Fate is a real beast.

I stood there, everyone else leaving.

The house felt colder, emptier. Even the sunlight seemed harsher, unforgiving.

With Dad’s order, the staff jumped to it, getting everything ready for Savannah.

They bustled around, packing my things, changing the sheets, airing out the room. I watched, numb.

I heard them whispering:

Their voices floated down the hall, low but unmistakable.

"She’s a war hero’s daughter—who knows what she’s been through. Back in town, but still has to live off others. Poor thing."

"Yeah, all she wanted was a room, and our spoiled princess wouldn’t even give her that. No empathy at all, you know?"

"I bet she did it on purpose. Didn’t you see how much Mr. Harper likes Savannah? Evelyn must be jealous and trying to embarrass her."

"Exactly. Rich girls only know how to have fun, not like Savannah, who grew up tough. She’s real."

…

The words stung, but I kept my face blank. I’d learned early not to give them more to talk about.

I dug my nails into my palm, took a deep breath.

The pain grounded me, a reminder that I was still here, still fighting.

The heroine’s charm is something else. Seriously. One meeting, and everyone’s on her side.

I watched as the staff rallied around her, their smiles genuine. I felt invisible, erased from my own life.

In the story, I couldn’t accept it, fought back, but lost the room and my reputation. That was where all my misery began.

I could see it playing out, step by step, just like Mom said. But this time, I was determined not to fall into the same traps.

Mom said jealousy only breeds hate and blinds you.

Her words echoed, a lifeline in the chaos. I clung to them, forcing myself to breathe.

Better to step back; not fighting is its own kind of fight.

It felt unnatural, but I made myself believe it. Sometimes... sometimes surrender is the only way to survive.

I forced a smile.

It was brittle, but it was enough. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

It’s just a room. Let her have it.

I told myself it was only walls and windows, nothing more. But my heart knew better.

According to the story, she’ll take more from me soon enough. Why wait?

If Dad spoils her so much, I’ll just hand everything over first.

I went back to the Magnolia Room.

The air inside was thick with the scent of magnolias and old memories. I stood in the doorway, letting it wash over me one last time.

Dad was chatting with Savannah, but when he saw me, he put on a stern face.

He straightened, his expression hardening. Savannah glanced at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

"Evelyn, what now? You gonna make a scene?"

His tone was accusing, as if I’d already done something wrong.

"Dad, I’m just here to pack up. If Savannah likes my room, I’m happy for her. Why would I make a fuss?"

I kept my voice light, almost cheerful. It was an act, but a convincing one.

Maybe my change of heart was too quick; he eyed me suspiciously: "Really?"

He narrowed his eyes, searching my face for signs of rebellion.

Savannah looked me up and down, then said, "Evelyn, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I don’t need to live here."

She sounded sincere, but I caught the flicker of challenge in her gaze. She was testing me, seeing how far I’d bend.

I faked a hurt look: "Why would you think that?"

I let my shoulders slump, my eyes wide and innocent.

"This room was Mom’s gift—every plant and painting has her touch."

I ran my fingers over the windowsill, remembering the afternoons we spent tending to the flowers together.

"But now she’s gone. What’s the point in clinging to stuff?"

I shrugged, feigning indifference. "Things are just things."

I looked at Dad, pretending to be moved: "You’re right, Dad. I was being petty."

He relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him.

He touched his nose, a little uncomfortable: "Good, as long as you get it."

He looked away, avoiding my gaze. Maybe he felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe not.

"It’s not really fair to make you give up your room, but since the Sunroom’s already set up, move in there."

He tried to sound magnanimous, like he was doing me a favor. I nodded, playing along.

"Okay."

I agreed, but a thought flickered in my mind.

If I played my cards right, maybe I could steer things my way. Maybe fate wasn’t as fixed as I thought.

In the story, I was blamed and sent to a tiny attic room.

But by giving in, Dad felt guilty and gave me the Sunroom Suite.

The story isn’t totally set in stone.

Just like Mom faked her death and escaped, maybe I’ve got a shot too.

A spark of hope lit in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, I could rewrite my ending.

So Savannah settled into our house.

She moved in like she’d always belonged, her laughter filling the halls. Dad doted on her, and the staff followed suit.

I stuck to Mom’s rule: "avoid what you can’t fight." I never left my room.

I spent my days reading, painting, and pretending not to hear the sounds of their new family taking shape without me.

No matter how close Dad and Savannah got, she became the new lady of the house.

She hosted dinners, organized charity events, even redecorated the living room. I watched from the sidelines, a ghost in my own home.

She was generous, with Dad’s full protection.

She made sure everyone saw her kindness, her willingness to help. Dad praised her at every turn.

Their questionable relationship was kept under wraps; only a few staff whispered.

I caught snippets in the kitchen, the laundry room, the garden. No one dared say anything outright, but everyone knew.

Eventually, even the "best" Sunroom Suite became a ghost town.

The staff avoided me, their smiles tight and forced. I didn’t mind. Solitude was safer.

I didn’t care, ignored everything, and focused on painting and reading.

I lost myself in books, letting other worlds drown out my own. My sketchbooks filled with drawings of places I’d never been.

I knew Evelyn Harper’s only shot at survival was to get out. Until then, I just needed to remember one thing: retreat.

It became my mantra. Keep your head down, stay quiet, wait for your moment.

But some things won’t let you go just because you step back.

Trouble has a way of finding you, no matter how far you run.

Two months later, Lucas finished his midterms and came home, heading straight for me.

He burst into the Sunroom, his face flushed with anger. I looked up from my book, bracing myself.

"How could you be so spineless? You let some outsider take your room?"