Severing the Past

Valerie pushed through the heavy double doors of the Thorne family mansion, a sharp sneeze ripping from her chest before her boots hit the polished marble floor. Rainwater pooled at her feet, dripping from her soaked hair and saturated clothes, leaving a messy trail behind her.

Footsteps rushed toward her from the drawing room. Helena Thorne stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide with shock and immediate heartbreak at the sight of her disheveled daughter.

"Valerie! Did that Mercer boy do this to you again?" Helena’s voice pitched high with anger. "Look at you! Drenched from head to toe! How could he just leave you out in the storm? Could he not even care enough to bring you home?"

In her past life, Valerie would have bristled at the accusation. She would have fired back excuses for Gareth, shielding him from her mother's wrath, screaming until she went blue in the face just to make her family accept him.

But she wasn't that stupid, naive girl anymore. The heavy, suffocating memory of staring at her mother's cold gravestone anchored her to the present reality. Hearing her mother's endless fussing didn't irritate her. It sounded like a blessing.

Valerie’s vision blurred with unshed tears. She stepped forward, ignoring the wet, clinging mess of her clothes, and wrapped her arms tight around Helena. She buried her face in her mother's shoulder, seeking the pure, living warmth she had craved for years in the dark.

"Mom," Valerie whispered, pulling back just enough to look Helena directly in the eyes. "I want to break off the engagement with Gareth."

Helena froze. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. She had begged Valerie to drop the Mercer boy previously, only to face fierce resistance and slammed doors. Her daughter’s infatuation had always made her deaf to reason.

"Are you sure?" Helena asked, searching Valerie's face for any sign of a tantrum. She assumed Gareth must have done something unforgivable to hurt her this badly. "You won't regret this tomorrow?"

Valerie let out a genuine laugh. A newfound, unshakable determination hardened her features.

"Never." Valerie smiled confidently, her beauty cutting through the damp chill. "There are plenty of good men out there. I refuse to waste another second of my life on him."

Helena exhaled a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A wave of immense relief washed over her. She looked at her daughter, noting a sudden maturity in the way Valerie held her shoulders. The desperate, clingy girl was gone.

"Thank goodness," Helena murmured, gently ushering her toward the sweeping staircase. "Now hurry upstairs. Get in a hot bath and drink some milk before you catch a cold. Once you're clean, I'll come tend to your injuries. A sprained ankle needs proper attention."

"I will," Valerie said sweetly, allowing one of the household helpers to support her weight as she hopped up the steps.

Halfway down the second-floor hallway, Valerie paused outside her younger brother’s bedroom. The door was ajar. She pushed it open and slipped inside without a sound.

Eight-year-old Leo Thorne was sprawled across his bed, eyes glued to the glowing screen of his handheld video game console. At the sound of her footsteps, he scrambled to shove the device under a plush pillow.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Leo grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at her. "That's so rude!"

Valerie didn't snap back. She stood frozen by the door, staring at him. He was vibrant. He was healthy. His eyes were sharp, and his voice was clear. A wave of immense gratitude crashed into her chest, stealing her breath. In her previous life, a methodical, tragic poisoning orchestrated by the Vance family had stolen Leo's voice and destroyed his mind, leaving him mute and mentally impaired for the rest of his life.

Seeing him now, full of life and typical sibling annoyance, she felt a profound warmth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Leo squirmed under her intense gaze. "Are you acting weird because someone bullied you again?"

Valerie blinked, a playful smile pulling at her lips. "It's nothing. I just came in to tell you I love you."

Leo’s face flushed red. He grabbed a pillow and hurled it at her head. Valerie laughed, dodging the fluffy projectile, and skipped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

The second the latch clicked, the awkward annoyance faded from Leo's face. His brow furrowed into a dark, protective scowl.

"Stupid Gareth Mercer," the young prodigy muttered, kicking his blankets aside. "How dare you bully my sister? You’ll regret it."

Leo slid off the bed and pulled his sleek laptop from his desk drawer. His tiny fingers flew across the keyboard with the speed and precision of a seasoned hacker. Lines of code reflected in his dark eyes. Within minutes, he bypassed Gareth’s personal firewall. With a final strike of the enter key, Leo unleashed a devastating payload into the system, bricking Gareth’s computer and rendering his personal network unusable.

Down the hall, Valerie sank into a hot bath, letting the soothing water melt the lingering chill from her bones. After drying off and slipping into a silk robe, she sat on the edge of her bed.

A maid stepped into the room holding a first-aid kit. "Miss, let me help you with the ointment for your ankle."

"That's alright. I can take care of it myself," Valerie said firmly, taking the tube from the woman's hands. She dismissed the helper with a wave. She wanted peace.

After massaging the medicinal gel into her swollen joint, Valerie moved to the large vanity mirror. She sat on the velvet stool and stared at her reflection.

She was eighteen again. Her skin was flawless, her features delicate and striking. She had inherited the best of her parents' looks, sporting naturally red lips and bright eyes. She was a beauty who stood out in any crowd.

A bitter pang of regret twisted in her chest. In her past life, she had foolishly weaponized her own beauty just to chase a man who viewed her as dirt. She had wasted her youth, her dignity, and her family's safety on a man who didn't deserve a fraction of her time.

Her reflection stared back, the softness of her youth clashing with the cold soul of a woman who had seen the grave.

Her wistful smile deepened, curling into a chilling laugh as a commotion arose from the first floor. High-pitched, sugary voices drifted up the stairwell.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed in the glass. Recognizing the voices immediately, she braced herself for the arrival of the parasitic Vance family.

Valerie rose from the vanity. She mentally prepared herself to face the very people who had drained her family dry. She walked to the second-floor landing and leaned over the grand mahogany railing, peering down into the opulent living room.

Monica Vance, her distant relative, stood beside Helena. Monica held a delicate, expensive silk scarf, draping it over Helena’s shoulders to butter her up.

"Aunt Helena, it looks stunning on you," Monica cooed, her voice dripping with honey. "I saw it and just knew it was made for you. Do you like it?"

To any passing outsider, it looked like a heartwarming family scene. But standing in the shadows of the second floor, Valerie could smell the rot. The scene reeked of cold disdain and calculated manipulation.

Valerie’s knuckles turned white on the railing. She remembered exactly how this started. Her father's soft heart had taken pity on his distant, struggling relatives. He moved the Vance family from the rural countryside straight into Oakhaven City. The Thornes gave them a home, money, and even secured Monica's father an executive position at the Thorne Group.

But their charity only fed a monstrous greed. The Vances began treating the Thorne empire as their own personal bank. That greed festered, eventually growing into the murderous intentions that wiped out Valerie's entire family.

Valerie let go of the railing. She turned and walked back to her closet.

Ten minutes later, she stepped out onto the landing. She wore a custom-made gown that clung perfectly to her slender frame. She wore zero makeup, her flawless face scrubbed clean, yet she radiated an effortless grace.

She began her descent down the sweeping staircase. Each step was measured, silent, and deliberate.

The spoiled, naive energy she had carried out the door that morning was eradicated. It was replaced by a beautiful woman exuding a languid elegance. She held her chin high, projecting a noble, enigmatic charm. She looked like a pristine rose, but the air around her promised hidden thorns.

The rustle of her gown caught the attention of the women below.

Monica glanced up, her sycophantic smile plastered on her face. But the moment her eyes locked onto the figure gliding down the stairs, Monica froze.

The breath hitched in Monica's throat. She was stunned, her mind struggling to process the shift. This wasn't the loud, predictable Valerie she knew. The girl descending the stairs looked like an untouchable queen.

A visceral sense of a looming threat slammed into Monica's chest.

Valerie stopped three steps from the bottom. She looked down at Monica. Her clear, almond-shaped eyes were empty of the usual warm sisterly affection. Instead, they held a dark, piercing dominance.

As Monica met Valerie’s clear gaze, the fake smile melted off her face. A chilling coldness crept over Monica's skin, sending shivers down her spine.