The communication stone throbbed faintly beneath my palm, still warm from the connection, when my father’s voice came through.
Calm.
Heavy with authority earned over decades.
Solid, unshakable—the kind of presence that could anchor a lifetime of chaos.
“Come home, Lyneth,” he said, his tone carrying across the miles like a hand reaching for me after years of absence.
The words cracked open something inside me—something I’d hidden beneath a lifetime of obedience and quiet endurance.
“I’ve waited for you,” he continued softly, a weight behind each syllable. “Twenty years, Lyneth. Twenty years I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Twenty years.
Twenty years of wondering if I would ever hear that voice again. Twenty years of holding my pride like armor while my life shriveled quietly around me.
And me—too stubborn, too afraid, too fractured to move toward him.
My knees threatened to buckle, but I caught the edge of the bedpost. Slowly, deliberately, I lowered myself onto the mattress.
Tears came freely now, hot and relentless, searing the emptiness in my chest.
“I’m coming home,” I whispered.
Barely more than breath. Barely more than a ghost brushing against the living.
He didn’t answer immediately. Only the sound of his measured breathing traveled across the stone. Solid. Grounding. A lifeline thrown across decades of silence.
I ended the connection before my voice betrayed me again.
---
The door creaked.
Vincenzo stepped inside like a shadow sliding through the crack of a half-closed door.
His gaze was sharp. Cold. Calculating. Predatory.
“I know you saw the travel ledger,” he said, smirking as though my pain amused him.
“Six names only,” he counted on his fingers, deliberately slow. “Me. Bianca. Salvatore. Isabella. Marco. Allesio. That’s all.”
My throat tightened.
“You left me out on purpose,” I murmured, voice trembling despite every attempt at control.
His expression hardened, imperious and amused at the same time.
“When we return,” he said, slow and deliberate, “I’ll get you a diamond set from the southern traders. Maybe even take you somewhere nice. The island territories. Something… to make up for it.”
A consolation prize. Like tossing scraps to a wolf already beaten.
Then he turned, leaving the room without a backward glance. The door closed behind him with the finality of a coffin lid.
---
Morning came, but no peace followed.
The kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon, fresh bread, and eggs frying in cast iron. My hands moved automatically, preparing breakfast for the household. Omelets flipped with practiced ease, bacon arranged on platters, bread toasted golden brown. Every movement habitual. Every motion automatic.
Laughter drifted from the main hall. The twins’ voices carried bright and reckless, bouncing against the marble walls.
“This voyage’s going to be legendary!” Salvatore shouted. “The Luciana traders don’t host anyone like this!”
Bianca arrived shortly after, arms piled with food containers from the market, dropping them onto the polished oak table with exaggerated annoyance.
“I refuse to eat Lyneth’s cooking,” she declared loudly, ensuring I caught every word. Her eyes flicked toward me with sharp disdain. “It’s dry. Flavorless. Like chewing sawdust.”
She laughed softly. “Just like her.”
The twins giggled behind her, delighted.
Bianca crossed her arms, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Family meals used to mean something. Now… they only remind us of how pitiful some people can be.”
Her gaze lingered on me. “Lyneth tries. Bless her heart. But you can’t polish a stone that’s already cracked.”
Salvatore leaned casually against the counter. “Honestly, Mom, why pretend? Her cooking feels like punishment.”
Isabella laughed, carefree. “Every burnt edge feels like revenge.”
Bianca opened another container and placed it ceremoniously on the table. “Eat, everyone. Real food. We leave in an hour.”
The family gathered around her bounty, chatting, laughing, and feasting as if I didn’t exist. A ghost. A servant. Invisible.
Then Vincenzo’s voice cut across the room like a whip.
“Where’s my coin pouch?” His eyes found me immediately, accusatory. “You took it. That’s what you do. Hide things. Hide responsibility.”
I shook my head, silent.
His hand struck my face before I could speak. I crashed to the floor. Warm blood trickled from my lip.
Bianca gasped, theatrically. “Oh!” she exclaimed, sweetly. “Brother-in-law, forgive me.” She reached into her purse, revealing the missing pouch. “Must have taken it by accident while searching for my earrings.”
Her eyes met mine for a brief moment. Triumphant. Another humiliation complete.
The family gathered their belongings, preparing to leave.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Salvatore said lightly. “I’ll bring you a souvenir from the voyage.”
Isabella smiled sweetly. “A pretty charm, perhaps.”
“Dirty laundry, Grandma!” the twins sang mockingly, sticking out their tongues.
The front door shut behind them. Silence fell like a heavy velvet curtain over the house.
---
I didn’t cry.
I walked to my chamber, knelt by the bed, and retrieved the red satchel from beneath it. I packed only what mattered: silver coins, the moonstone ring from my birth family, and the photograph of the girl I had once been. Everything else remained behind.
Before the afternoon sun reached its zenith, I left the estate.
A carriage waited at the edge of town, bound for the mountain territories to the north. I climbed inside, the motion stirring the old, faint connection of the mindlink.
Vincenzo’s voice came, faint but sharp: Guard the house while we’re gone. One week.
Another message followed. Sorry about earlier. But you provoked me. Always jealous. Always ruining things.
I smiled—not with happiness, but with clarity.
I severed the connection completely. Blocked him from my thoughts. His voice disappeared. Gone.
I leaned back into the carriage seat, letting the road carry me farther from the estate that had never been my home.
For the first time in thirty years—
I was finally heading somewhere that truly was.
Somewhere that could be called home.
