Chapter 4 – Unshackled Chains

When I returned home, the atmosphere was heavy.

The second I stepped inside, my mother’s sharp gaze met mine. She was sitting in the living room, sipping tea, her posture as stiff as ever. Across from her was Marcus, flipping through his phone like he had no care in the world.

I placed the grocery bags on the counter, ignoring their stares.

“So, you actually came back,” Marcus mused without looking up. “Thought you’d run away or something.”

I let out a small chuckle. “And miss the chance to see your charming face every day? Never.”

That got his attention.

His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowing. He wasn’t used to this—me talking back, me standing my ground.

None of them were.

My mother set her teacup down a little too forcefully. “Clarisse.” Her voice was cold. “I heard from Cassandra that you were being… disrespectful at the market.”

Ah. So, Cassandra ran home crying. How predictable.

I turned to face my mother, keeping my expression blank. “Disrespectful? I was just shopping.”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not.” I tilted my head slightly. “Unless standing up for myself is considered disrespect now?”

Marcus let out a short laugh. “Oh, so you really think you’re someone now, huh?”

I met his gaze, unfazed. “I’ve always been someone. You were just too blind to see it.”

Silence.

For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—annoyance, maybe even disbelief.

My mother stood up, smoothing her dress. “Enough of this nonsense. Go to your room. You’re clearly looking for attention.”

I didn’t move. “No.”

The air grew colder.

“What did you just say?” she asked slowly.

I met her stare directly. “I said no.”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to seeing our mother challenged. No one was.

For years, Clarisse had always obeyed. She never fought back, never questioned, never raised her voice.

But I wasn’t Clarisse.

Not anymore.

“I did everything you asked,” I continued, my tone calm but firm. “I went to the market, I bought what was needed. So no, I won’t be locking myself in my room like some prisoner just because Cassandra got her feelings hurt.”

My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line.

She wasn’t used to being challenged either.

Slowly, she picked up her teacup again, taking a measured sip.

“You’re getting bold,” she murmured. “Be careful, Clarisse. People who forget their place often regret it.”

I smirked. “And people who underestimate others often regret it too.”

Her fingers tightened around the cup.

I didn’t wait for a response.

I turned and walked toward my room, my steps steady, my heart hammering in my chest.

I wasn’t scared.

I was free.

And I was just getting started.

The moment I stepped into my room, I shut the door behind me and exhaled.

That was… intense.

I had stood my ground, but the battle was far from over. My mother wasn’t the type to let things go. She was calculating, patient. If she wanted to put me back in my place, she’d find a way.

But she wasn’t dealing with the old Clarisse anymore.

I sat on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the worn-out sheets. This room—my supposed sanctuary—felt more like a cage. The walls were dull, the furniture outdated. Compared to Cassandra and Marcus’ rooms, mine was practically a storage space.

Pathetic.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The memories were still jumbled, but I could feel Clarisse’s pain—the loneliness, the constant belittling, the feeling of being unwanted.

It made my blood boil.

She had deserved better.

I deserved better.

A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts.

I sat up, narrowing my eyes. “What?”

The door creaked open, and Marcus stepped inside, a smirk playing on his lips. “Wow, you’re finally learning how to talk.”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you want?”

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “I just came to remind you of something.” His smirk widened. “You can act tough all you want, but in the end, you’re still the unwanted one in this family.”

I clenched my fists.

He was testing me. Trying to get under my skin.

Clarisse would’ve shrunk back. She would’ve believed his words.

But I wasn’t Clarisse.

I let out a small chuckle. “You’re right.” I met his gaze head-on. “I was the unwanted one. But that’s the thing about being at the bottom, Marcus…” I stood up, stepping closer to him. “There’s nowhere else to go but up.”

For a second—just a second—I saw something flicker in his expression.

Annoyance.

Uncertainty.

He wasn’t expecting that.

“Keep watching,” I murmured, tilting my head slightly. “You might just regret treating me like nothing.”

Marcus’ smirk faltered.

I smiled.

Then, before he could respond, I shut the door in his face.

Let him stew in it.

This was just the beginning.

I pressed my back against the door, listening as Marcus let out a frustrated scoff on the other side. A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps retreat down the hall.

Good.

I smirked to myself. He wasn’t used to this—to me fighting back. None of them were.

I walked to the small dresser in the corner of the room, pulling open a drawer. Inside, there were only a few sets of clothes—plain, dull, hand-me-downs from Cassandra. My fingers traced over the fabric, a mix of disgust and determination filling my chest.

This needs to change.

I wasn’t going to live like this anymore.

I grabbed a notebook from the bedside table and sat down, flipping it open to a blank page. If I wanted to gain control of my life, I needed a plan.

Step one: Stop reacting.

They wanted me to crumble. To shrink back into the weak, quiet girl I used to be. If I let their words get to me, they’d win. That wasn’t going to happen.

Step two: Become independent.

Money. That was the key. If I wanted to escape this house for good, I needed to find a way to earn on my own. No more relying on scraps they threw at me.

Step three: Make them regret it.

Every insult, every cruel word, every time they treated me like I was nothing—I was going to make them eat it all back.

I tapped the pen against my chin, my mind racing with possibilities.

I didn’t know how yet, but one thing was clear.

This was just the beginning of my rise.

And no one—no one—was going to stop me

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