Chapter 2 – The Shift

The house was eerily quiet once they all left.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the empty plates on the table. My family had always expected me to clean up after them. It was my “duty” as the useless one, the extra child nobody wanted.

Clarisse had spent her whole life accepting that role.

But I wasn’t her.

I stood up, stretched my sore limbs, and turned away from the mess. If they wanted it cleaned, they could do it themselves.

As I walked out of the dining room, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Small acts of defiance, small steps toward reclaiming myself.

I made my way to the stairs, each step a reminder of how fragile this body was. My legs still felt weak, and my arms lacked strength. I needed to rebuild myself.

I needed to become stronger.

Because this world only respects strength.

I reached my room and pushed the door open. It was just as I remembered—small, cramped, and dull compared to Cassandra’s lavish bedroom down the hall. The mattress was thin, the closet half-empty, and the air smelled faintly of dust.

But none of that mattered.

I walked over to the mirror, my fingers trailing over the surface. The girl staring back at me looked frail, but her eyes…

Her eyes were different now.

This body might be weak, but I wasn’t.

I rolled my shoulders, testing my movements. I needed to train, to build stamina, to sharpen my instincts. I wasn’t planning on staying under my family’s control forever.

As I started doing slow stretches, a knock on the door interrupted me.

I frowned. Who could it be?

Before I could answer, the door swung open.

“Clarisse.”

A maid stood there, her face blank but her tone slightly hesitant. It took me a second to recall her name—Mila. One of the older housemaids.

“The Madam wants you to buy some groceries.” She held out a list. “She said to make sure you don’t take too long.”

I stared at the paper in her hands but made no move to take it.

Before, Clarisse would have obeyed without question.

But now?

I crossed my arms. “Did she give me money for it?”

Mila blinked, startled. “What?”

I tilted my head. “Did she give me money for the groceries?”

“W-Well…” Mila hesitated. “She said you should figure it out.”

I let out a small laugh. Classic. My mother loved to humiliate me by making me run errands without giving me a single cent. I was supposed to beg, borrow, or suffer the embarrassment of coming home empty-handed.

Too bad for her, I wasn’t playing that game anymore.

I smiled at Mila. “Tell her I’m not going.”

Mila paled. “What?”

“You heard me.” I turned away, walking toward my bed. “If she wants groceries, she can buy them herself.”

Mila looked horrified. “Clarisse, she’ll be furious—”

“Then let her be.”

Mila didn’t move for a long moment. I could feel her struggling, torn between her duty and fear of my mother’s wrath. But finally, she gave a small nod and backed away.

As the door closed, I smirked to myself.

Let them get angry. Let them wonder.

This was just the beginning.

---

The moment Mila left, I let out a deep breath and sat on the bed. My body still felt sluggish, and every movement reminded me of how weak Clarisse had been.

But I wasn’t planning on staying weak.

I stared at my hands—small, thin, and delicate. Before, they probably trembled whenever my family raised their voices at me. Now, they were steady.

I had been strong before. I had fought, survived, and refused to bow down.

I would do it again.

But first, I needed to understand my situation better.

I glanced around the room, my gaze landing on a small desk covered in old books and papers. Clarisse had been a student, right? Did she even go to school regularly, or did her family keep her locked away like a forgotten shadow?

I stood up and walked over, flipping through a few notebooks. The handwriting was messy, filled with half-finished notes. Some pages had scribbles, as if she had been too afraid to make mistakes.

They really broke her, huh?

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

I turned toward the door just as it slowly creaked open.

Mila peeked inside, her expression cautious. “The Madam said if you’re not going to buy groceries, then you don’t get to eat dinner.”

I smirked. “That’s fine.”

Mila’s eyes widened slightly. “Are… are you sure?”

I sat back down on the bed, crossing my legs. “Yeah. I don’t mind skipping a meal.”

It wasn’t the first time I had gone hungry.

Mila hesitated. “She might get angrier.”

I shrugged. “That’s not my problem.”

The maid stared at me for a few more seconds before nodding slowly. I could tell she was confused. The old Clarisse would have cowered. She would have begged or tried to please her mother just to get scraps of food.

But I wasn’t her.

As Mila closed the door, I leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling.

So, they wanted to punish me by starving me?

Pathetic.

I had been through worse.

They had no idea who they were dealing with now.

---

I stayed on the bed for a while, my mind running through everything.

The way my family reacted this morning proved one thing—they saw me as weak, someone they could control. And when I didn’t behave the way they expected, they got frustrated.

They weren’t afraid of me yet.

But they would be.

I needed to act carefully. If I pushed too hard too soon, they’d try to crush me completely. I had to be smart—build my strength, gain control over my emotions, and observe.

Clarisse had been invisible in this house. That was her greatest weakness.

I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

I stood up and stretched, shaking off the stiffness in my muscles. My body still felt fragile, but that would change with time. I needed to train, build my endurance, and regain the strength I once had.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it. Hunger was nothing new to me.

I walked over to the window and pulled back the thin curtains. Outside, the sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the neighborhood. From here, I could see the garden below—Cassandra’s favorite place, the one my mother always praised her for.

I hated it already.

A sharp knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned just as Mila entered again, this time looking more hesitant than before.

“What now?” I asked, crossing my arms.

She hesitated before speaking. “The Madam says you’re not allowed to leave your room until tomorrow.”

I let out a small laugh. “Wow. That’s the punishment now?”

Mila’s expression tightened. “Clarisse… you know how she is. She doesn’t like being challenged.”

I walked toward her slowly, stopping just a foot away. “Then maybe it’s time someone challenged her.”

She looked startled, like she wasn’t sure how to respond.

I tilted my head. “Tell me, Mila. How long have you been working here?”

She blinked. “Ten years.”

That meant she had been here long before I was born. She had witnessed everything—how my parents favored Cassandra and Marcus, how they ignored Clarisse, how they never saw her as anything but an inconvenience.

She had watched it all happen.

And yet, she had done nothing.

I smiled slightly. “You must know, then. This house… It only respects power.”

Mila swallowed hard. “Clarisse, please don’t make things worse for yourself.”

I stepped back and sighed. “You’re right. I should rest.” I walked past her, back to my bed. “Tell my mother I’ll stay in my room.”

Mila hesitated before nodding. “Okay.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

I sat down, staring at the ceiling.

So, they wanted to lock me away?

Fine.

Let them think they still had control.

They had no idea the storm that was coming.