ELOISE
"Eloise!!?"
For goodness' sake—can Mom stop embarrassing me every single time? She drags my name like she wrote it somewhere in the dictionary. And to make it worse, we have visitors in the house.
I couldn't take another tantrum, so I came upstairs to my bedroom to cool my head. Dinner had already been unbearable—thanks to my parents and siblings. They just wouldn't stop mocking me, throwing jabs that all somehow led back to my marital status.
Especially Rex, my younger brother. He finds everything funny—even things that aren't.
And Dad? He'd laugh his lungs out if Mom said anything remotely hilarious.
Everybody in this family thinks they're better than me. But the truth is, I'm different—and maybe even better. I stay out of trouble. I mind my business and live life on my own terms. I control my world, and in my world, things obey me.
But somehow, that makes me "boring." The "worst person of the era," as they'd say—especially my brother Maverick, who had the guts to marry his detective. The same one Dad hired to protect him when he couldn't stop sleeping around, clubbing, and doing late-night nonsense.
"Eloise!! Come get me a glass of water, now!"
Why me? Of all people in this house, why me?
I know Mom is doing this on purpose—trying to make me look like a joke in front of everyone. She could easily get her own water. Anastasia was sitting right next to her; why not send her instead?
I just wanted to be left alone. Everyone could go to hell for all I cared.
God, I wish I could just cry it all out.
"Eloise!! Get your fucking ass down here right this minute!"
Dad's voice made me jump. Sometimes, I really feel like my family doesn't love me. The distance started showing after I turned thirty. No one wished me a happy birthday. No gifts. No surprise cake. Just silence. It felt like I'd become invisible.
"Eloise!! If I get up there to your room, I'll break your head—trust me!" Mom's voice tore through the air again, barking like a dog.
"Mom, just let her be! She's probably facing menopause up there—who knows?" Anastasia's voice followed, and the room below erupted in laughter.
That was it. I could tolerate everyone else, but not Anastasia. She's always been a thorn in my flesh. But tonight—tonight might be her downfall.
I stormed to the door, flung it open—and almost tripped over Anastasia's crawling baby on the staircase.
The little girl, barely eleven months old, startled and fell back on her tiny butt when I came out.
Great. Just perfect. Another reason to be blamed.
I squatted quickly, reaching to pat her head as her bottom lip began to tremble. "Hey, shh... don't cry, please. My cutie cutie…"
God, I suck at this. Babysitting isn't my thing. I don't even know how to—
"Waaahhh!"
Oh no. My eyes widened, heart hammering in my chest as the baby wailed like a siren.
"Shhh…" I tried to hush her, lifting her gently in my arms to cradle her. But it was too late.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs.
"What did you do to her?" Mom and Anastasia appeared at the landing.
"Jesus, help me," I muttered under my breath. "I—I didn't do anything! She just saw me and started crying!"
"She saw you and started crying?" Mom snapped. "As in what, Eloise? Have you turned into the family's masquerade? A baby sees you and screams?"
"Mom, it's not like that—" I tried to explain, but Anastasia snatched her baby from my arms.
"She's my niece too—"
"No child of mine will ever be niece or nephew to an old maiden like you. Still fooling around in your thirties. Shame on you."
I stared at Mom, blood rushing to my head. "Mom, did you hear what she just said? Ana called me an old maiden!"
But of course, Mom sided with her. "Isn't it obvious?"
The baby had stopped crying, already dozing in Anastasia's arms.
"I was nineteen when I met your father," Mom continued. "Twenty when I married him. That same year, I had Henri and Ana. But you? You've chosen to wreck your life with your own hands. I don't even blame you for scaring my poor grandchild—how would you know what it feels like to carry a baby for nine months? Looking at you, one could say you've never even carried a cockroach in that womb of yours."
"Assuming there's still a womb left," Anastasia added with a smirk. "Who knows if she's already crossed menopause—or even sees her period like normal people?"
That was it. If she wasn't holding a baby, I swear I'd have ripped her apart right there.
But not tonight. I swallowed it all. For now.
I turned and walked past Dad and the others, who were busy watching soccer in the lounge, and headed straight for the garage. My silver Mercedes-Maybach gleamed under the light.
For once, Mom didn't run after me yelling like she usually did. Maybe heaven was finally quiet tonight.
I started the car, warning the guards not to follow me, and drove out of my father's compound. I didn't know where I was going—all I knew was that I needed peace.
If the world wouldn't give me peace, then maybe it could give me a place to die quietly.
Because I was done—with the insults, the pressure, the constant reminder that thirty-two was "too old" to be unmarried.
"I just want to die somewhere!" I screamed, alone in the car, fighting my demons as tears streamed down my face.
"Allow me die somewhere, Lord… please," I sobbed, fingers clenched around the steering wheel.
The tears blurred my vision until I could barely see. My foot pressed harder on the gas pedal.
Everything outside the window rushed past like streaks of light. I didn't even know where I was anymore.
The first time I realized I'd taken the wrong turn was when I saw the blinding headlights of a green truck speeding toward me.
My hands froze. I was trapped—hemmed in by barriers on both sides.
The truck's horn blared, its light cutting through the darkness as my heart thudded wildly.
Maybe God did listen after all. Maybe He was granting my careless wish.
And then—
CRASH!