With limited time to figure out my plans, I dared not idle around.
I sat up on the bed, my gaze carefully scanning the one room I had spent every day of my life until it settled on the family portrait hanging on the wall. A heavy sigh escaped my lips.
Years ago, I never knew I was adopted. I had always believed I was the biological daughter of the Nortons.
Sometimes, I even complained about my sister's room being more beautiful than mine, never realizing the reason behind such subtle inequality.
When toys were bought, hers were always different from mine. They were shinier, prettier and more expensive. Mother would offer excuses that never quite made sense, ending with a gentle promise, "I'll get you a better one next time."
When school began, the difference became undeniable. My sister was sent to the prestigious Lawrence Academy, while I was enrolled somewhere far less remarkable.
At that time, telling anyone I was a Norton, they laughed at me telling me I was just dreaming but never connected to the Norton's.
When I tried to explain, I would be silenced by a simple "If you are a Norton, why are you in this school?"
Every aspect of our lives carried that quiet but striking mark of disparity that I sometimes wondered why the treatment wasn't the same. At the end, I still told myself, it didn't matter.
But that ended the day I turned six.
It was my birthday, and as usual, I was excited and expectant like in other years past. I woke up very early, took my bath, and slid into a beautiful dress I had worn the previous year.
Carefully, I had my hair combed. Unlike my sister, I had always been independent, with no maid assigned to me or fuss over, neither did I care for any.
When I was certain I was looking good, I left my room and headed straight to my parents' bedroom to greet them and possibly get my birthday present.
While I trotted over, my heart raced with childish wonder of what the gift might be.
Would it be a new storybook?
Should I expect a new dress?
What exactly do I have to expect?
My face beamed with smiles, but when I arrived at my parents' bedroom, the door was slightly open. My brows furrowed slightly at such a rare occurrence.
It had always seemed to be an unspoken rule in our home that bedroom doors remained closed. And seeing theirs open, maybe the maids were already cleaning, and the slightly open door was an indication. I felt anxious.
Is it possible I have woken up late?
Dad has probably gone to work.
Or is there something wrong with the company?
Disappointment pressed at my chest as I reached for the doorknob, ready to shut the door and leave. But before I could, voices drifted through the gap.
Voices that shattered everything I knew about myself.
"James, you can't do that to her. It's unfair," my mother said. The tinge of frustration in her voice made my heart race.
"Merit, you know I was never in support of adopting Stella in the first place," came my father's cold reply. "My stand has never changed—not before, not now, and not ever."
My hands trembled, my heart beating against my small chest so erratically that I never knew I would still be able to stand.
"Adopted?" That single word continually echoed in my head, making me dizzy.
"James, calm down," Mother pleaded. "Seeing her left by the roadside in that cold, how could I walk away? I…I can't bear to, It's inhumane. Besides, she's been such a good girl, doing wonderfully well."
James scoffed. "Of course she had to. You've refused to have another child just to look after her."
My mother's voice broke. "Alright, it's all my fault, but can you not make this too obvious? Today is her birthday," my mother pleaded.
"Her birthday has nothing to do with me," he said coldly.
My tears fell, blurring my vision; my heart bled. I released my hand from the doorknob, turned back, and ran.
I wasn't sure where I was headed, but I really needed to get away. I ran all the way to my room, panting and gasping for breath at the truth I had just stumbled on.
With a loud bang, I slammed the door shut behind me, trapping myself in my own world with neither familial bond nor attachment.
From then on, I ceased to envy my sister. I ceased to count myself as a member of the Norton's family.
James Norton made good his words, and my life took a different turn. As days grew into weeks, then months, and finally years, I came to accept that reality. I was never a Norton and could never be treated as one.
Even now, staring at the old portrait taken when I was five, I felt the dull ache of loss.
Perhaps I shouldn't have felt hurt; after all, I was never truly wanted, not even by my biological mother...what more do I have to expect.
Yet, the pain still tugged at my heartstrings, reminding me that even unwanted children dream of belonging.
With a family that would never treat me as one, there should be no reason for me to play nice.
I retrieved my phone from my bag, which was lying on the bed, and for the first time since last night, I powered it on.
I had to contact someone to work with me, and nobody could be more suited than Linda, who had left the banquet earlier or so I thought.
But then, my phone buzzed with notifications flooding in. With a click, I opened one of them. My eyes widened.
"Trending?" I whispered. My lips quivered as I read the time. The post had gone up just as I arrived at the Norton mansion. My blood ran cold.
Norton's second daughter guilty of infidelity, replaced by her sister.
Stella Norton, a disgrace to the Norton family.
A pick up would always remain a pick up.
Norton's family: A stain on their proud name.
I scrolled through the headlines, each more terrible than the next.
I didn't need to think about who had been out to get me. If it wasn't Phina Norton, then it must be her fiancé, Bruce George.
My fist clenched, my resolve hardened. I would have preferred they let the sleeping dog lie, but if it wasn't possible, then definitely, I had no option but to accompany them till the end.
I exited the webpage and returned to my contacts. I dialed a number, and it was picked on the first ring. "Hello, Stella, are you okay?" Linda's anxious voice came through the phone.
I laughed. "What? Are you scared I might have lost my life?" I asked playfully.
"Can you stop? It wasn't funny. I searched for you all through the night!" she screamed.
"Alright, alright, I will stop. How are you doing?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that? After you left the hall, I followed you, but then I didn't know how you managed to throw me off."
I chuckled. "I'm fine, but I need your assistance."
"My assistance? What is the problem? Are you hurt? Where are you?" Linda fired in one breath, her voice anxious and worried that it warmed my heart.
"Linda," I said quietly, "I have a question I hope you can answer."
She paused briefly, taking a deep breath. "What is it?"
"When did you find out about Phina and Bruce George?"