Chapter 380
Three hundred and eighty two
Isabella POV
We reached the chapter house at 8:55, five minutes before Barbara was scheduled to be brought in. I spotted her mother near the main hall. She stopped when she saw me.
For all the years she had looked at me like a stain her family had been forced to tolerate, she couldn’t meet my eyes now. Shame had finally found her face.
She looked away, and I did the same, feeling no pity for her.
Whatever guilt she carried belonged to her. She had watched what Barbara did to me, allowed it, and found explanations for every cruelty. Gwen had probably never killed anyone herself, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she had. I knew enough about that family to stop assuming the worst thing I knew was the worst thing they had done.
Shouting came from the corridor before Barbara appeared, daughters escorting her into the field.
Barbara fought them every step of the way. Her hair had come loose, her clothes were disordered, and rage twisted her face as she struggled against their grip.
“You can’t do this to me!” she screamed. “I have rights! You have no right to hold me here p>
When she saw Wesley and me, whatever restraint remained vanished.
“You!” she screamed, pointing at him. “You destroyed my life! Both of you did! You think you’re righteous because everyone believes your lies p>
Wesley stood beside me without responding. His face held none of the satisfaction I might have expected. He watched her with a coldness that told me he’d stopped seeing her as someone worth arguing with.
Barbara’s gaze found mine.
“You pig! You ruined everything p>
“Joke’s on you,” I said.
She lunged toward me, but the daughters forced her back into the circle marked on the floor. Two of them stepped forward with bowls in their hands and poured the contents over her. The liquid ran across her face and down her clothes.
Barbara screamed.
“I didn’t kill her p>
Her voice cracked through the room.
“I didn’t kill Beatrice p>
The daughters watched her without reacting.
Barbara’s breathing turned ragged as she looked around the field. Her eyes darted toward a space beside her.
She screamed and backed away from whatever she thought she saw.
“No p>
Barbara stared at the empty space with such conviction that I almost looked there myself.
1/4
771
+15 Bonus
“I didn’t kill you, Beatrice! And even if I did, what are you going to do about it?” She laughed, the sound coming put-wrong. “You’re dead p>
Gwen covered her mouth.
Barbara kept staring at the empty space.
“You always got everything. Everything.” Her laughter broke into a sob. “Mom loved you. Everyone loved you. You were so perfect p>
She wiped at her face and smeared the liquid across her cheek.
“No one asked you to kill her,” Joanna said.
“Shut up! You old hag! I didn’t kill her p>
Her voice swung from rage to tears so fast it became hard to follow. She begged the daughters to release her, then accused them of conspiring against her. She called Wesley a monster, called me a manipulator, then pleaded with an invisible Beatrice to forgive her.
I watched her unravel and felt no satisfaction. Only sadness at how short Beatrice’s life had been.
Memories surfaced of how Barbara had made me question my own sanity. How she’d turned every room into a place where I had to watch my back. Bugs in my bed, rat feces and hair in my food, broken glass where I would step, bruises she explained away as accidents.
Every humiliation had come with a smile and an excuse. I had always known something was wrong with her. What I hadn’t understood was how many people had seen it and chosen not to look closely.
Three daughters took hold of Barbara as she struggled again, dragging her toward the corridor.
“Where are you taking me?” she screamed.
“Somewhere you won’t have access to the outside world,” Joanna replied.
Barbara fought harder.
“You can’t keep me here! Dad! Mom! Do something p>
Joanna’s gaze followed her as the daughters disappeared with her.
“She was already breaking before we touched her. Isolation will do the rest p>
My father stood near Gwen, his face wet with tears.
I looked at him and felt something shift inside me.
For years, I had been the family member everyone treated like a problem, someone who somehow deserved whatever Barbara decided to do to her.
Now Barbara was gone. Beatrice was dead. And somehow, I was still standing.
Joanna turned toward Gwen.
“Tell us what happened p>
Gwen wiped her cheeks, struggling to speak.
“I didn’t know she would become this p>
2/4
+15 Bonus
звенить
“That isn’t what I asked. Why did Barbara hate Beatrice p>
Owen looked toward the corridor where her daughter had disappeared.
“She thought I favored Beatrice p>
“Did you p>
“No.” Gwen shook her head, crying harder. “I didn’t. I loved them both p>
Joanna waited.
Gwen swallowed. “Beatrice was easier. Gentle. She didn’t demand anything, didn’t cause problems. Barbara had such a strong personality, and I thought she’d grow out of it p>
“I saw the rivalry and thought it was jealousy between sisters p>
My stomach tightened.
“She wanted everything Beatrice had,” Gwen whispered. “Her clothes, her friends, her work, even the way people looked at her. Barbara would complain that Beatrice was always the one everyone, noticed, and I kept telling her she was imagining it p>
Gwen pressed both hands against her face.
“I should have seen it p>
“You saw the warning signs and chose the easier explanation p>
Gwen lowered her hands.
“I knew she could be cruel and hated losing, but I never thought she’d kill her p>
My father’s face crumpled.
“I can believe it,” he said.
He looked devastated.
“Anything to add, Henry?” Joanna asked.
His voice shook.
“Barbara has always taken things too far. We warned her. We told her that one day her need to hurt people would destroy her p>
Instead of building a life of her own, Barbara had spent years trying to destroy the person she believed stood in her way. My family had mistaken the warning signs for ordinary jealousy.
I looked toward the corridor where the daughters had taken her.
Barbara had wanted to make me the family stain. Now she was the one being dragged into the darkness she had created.
3/4
Lucia Morh
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.