When Blood Turns Cold

​The morning air was crisp as the carriage arrived at the Graham residence. I was dressed in my new Victorian attire: a sophisticated, deep-red gown with a tailored jacket and a wide-brimmed hat. It felt like armor.

​I stepped out of the carriage. Behind me, my two assigned guards—both with stern, imposing presences—followed, radiating a silent, ready menace. The house was in chaos. Servants ran everywhere, their faces frantic, clearly searching for me.

​I held the House Registry document tighter, the paper a shield in my hand. No one seemed to notice my elegant presence; they were too focused on the panic. My guards and I proceeded directly to the parlor, ignoring the staff entirely. They finally stopped running and stared in shock as the Duke Miller’s armed men trailed me.

​“Fetch Mr. Graham,” I instructed a wide-eyed footman.

The Confrontation

​

​My father, Mr. Graham, stormed into his office, finding me seated in his leather chair. He snatched the document from my hand, scanning the contents, his face shifting from anger to bewilderment.

​“What is the meaning of this? This entire house has been in a panic trying to find you!” he barked. “After being gone for days, you simply waltz back?”

​I stood up, leveling him with a cold stare. “Sign it. Once it has been signed, I will take it, and I will be out of your hair for good.”

​He scoffed, a smile creeping onto his face, ready to launch into a lecture. But then, my two guards moved. They stepped up behind me, their hands subtly resting on the hilts of their swords, their faces locked in fierce glares directed at my father. He recoiled.

​“Alright!” he hissed, quickly signing the paper. His eyes darted nervously between my guards, the Duke Miller’s seal the document, and me. He wonders where I've been, I thought, knowing the truth of my new status was dawning on him.

​I retrieved the signed document and turned toward the door.

​“Sister, you’re back!”

​A familiar, saccharine voice spoke behind me. My half-sister,Aisha , came running toward me, a cheerful smile plastered on her face, a cup of tea slopping precariously in her hand.

​“Be careful, don’t hurry,” I warned, but it was already too late. She feigned a stumble and collapsed, spilling the hot tea all over her dress and bare leg.

​A high, theatrical shriek tore from her. "It burns! Oh, Sister, why are you always so rough?"

​Servants rushed to her side, screaming her name. “Aisha! Are you alright?!”

​My father burst from his office, his face beetroot-red. He saw Aisha sobbing and rushed past his injured daughter—straight toward me . The sound of his open hand hitting my cheek was a sharp, cracking echo in the sudden silence of the house.

​Gasps filled the hall. My guards took a synchronized step forward, ready to draw their blades. I held up a hand to stop them. They looked confused, but I knew this man wouldn't forgive any slight from an outsider. Besides, I wasn't in any real danger—not anymore.

​My father jabbed a finger at my chest. “If it wasn't for your mother’s death, I would have put you out a long time ago, you ungrateful brat! Now, apologize to your sister!”

​“Father, it wasn’t Sister’s fault,” Aisha whimpered, burying her face into her pregnant mother’s side.

​“Stop making excuses for her, Aisha!” Father yelled.

​Over her mother’s shoulder, Aisha gave me a small, secret, triumphant smile. Her mother glared at me, tightening her embrace around her precious daughter.

​I said nothing. There was no point. He wouldn’t listen. This entire, tired scene had played out countless times. I had given up on defending myself long ago.

​The quiet of my silence enraged him. He raised his hand for a second slap, his eyes burning with years of built-up resentment.

​But this time, I was ready.

​I shot out my hand and caught in his arms. I looked up at him, my expression dark and completely devoid of fear.

​“You low-life, cheating bastard,” I spat, my voice clear and ringing with absolute conviction. “You have no right to disgrace me. Fine. You want me gone? Then I will go. You will never see me again.”

​I ripped my arm from his grasp, the sound of the satin tearing on his sleeve the only punctuation. I turned my back on the stunned silence of the Graham family and walked out the front door.

​I could hear him screaming from inside, " Don't ever come back !" followed by the slam of the heavy oak door. I ignored him entirely.

​My heart didn't hold a single drop of sadness. It was filled with a bright, thrilling excitement as I saw the Duke’s Miller’s Flag flying proudly on the approaching carriage.

​The coachman, wearing the Duke’s colors, opened the door and bowed low.

​“Duchess,” he said.

​I stepped into the carriage, the House Registry Document clutched firmly in my hand. As we pulled away from the cursed house, I looked out the window, not sad, but amazed at the view of the world rushing toward me.

​Starting today, I would start my new life. I was no longer a member of the Graham house. I would forever be known as Lady Donna Duchess the House of Miller’s.

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