Chapter 4

The moving process was more humiliating than I could have ever imagined.

Fiona claimed she was "helping" me pack, but she was actually policing what I could keep.

My old clothes, which she deemed "outdated," were tossed ruthlessly into black trash bags.

She pressured me to throw away my old photo albums and letters from Johnson, calling them "clutter that harbors negative energy."

Even the rocking chair Johnson had bought me was carried down to the curb because it "ruined the aesthetic."

I screamed, I argued, but every single time, Claude stood by her side.

"Mom, just listen to Fiona. She has an eye for design."

"Mom, what’s the point of keeping this old junk? You need to move on."

In the end, I was only allowed to bring a few changes of clothes into that dark, damp basement utility room.

The room was tiny. Once the single bed was set up, there was barely any space to turn around.

Because there were no windows, I had to keep the artificial light on even during the day. The air smelled of mold and dust.

Meanwhile, upstairs, my old bedroom was quickly transformed into their sleek "den."

Fiona and Claude hosted a housewarming party, proudly showing off the new space to their friends.

Laughter and music drifted down from upstairs, reminding me that I was trapped in a completely different world.

Lying on the narrow, hard bed, listening to their joy, tears silently rolled down my face.

I thought my sacrifice would bring peace to my family.

But I was wrong. My submission only invited more tyranny.

Fiona’s parents moved in shortly after. They took the spacious guest room upstairs.

Fiona’s mother, Hilary, had high blood pressure and required a specialized diet.

So, my daily chores grew. I became the personal chef, tasked with preparing three "organic wellness meals" a day for Hilary.

Meanwhile, Claude and Fiona continued to eat their trendy salads.

Our home had turned into a twisted hotel.

Fiona’s parents were the VIP guests, and I was the unpaid maid living in the basement.

One night, as I brought Hilary her medication, I overheard them talking in her room.

"Mom, just relax and make yourself at home. This house will be ours soon anyway."

"Claude already agreed. Next month, we’re going to the registry office to add my name to the deed."

Hilary laughed. "You really know how to handle him, sweetie. But what about Betty? Will she agree?"

"Her?" Fiona laughed, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Who cares what she thinks? Claude is her only son. Everything she owns will belong to Claude eventually."

"Let her have her little basement for now. Once my name is on the deed, I’ll show her who’s really in charge."

My hand trembled so hard that the warm water spilled from the cup, burning my skin.

So, that was their grand plan.

They didn't just want my room or my dignity. They wanted to strip me of everything I owned.

I took a deep breath, steadied my shaking body, and slipped away quietly.

Back in the dark basement, I sat on the edge of the bed and didn’t sleep a wink.

At dawn, as soon as Claude and Fiona left for work, I walked calmly into Hilary's room.

She was lying in bed, wearing a sheet mask, scrolling through her phone.

"Hilary," I smiled. "I don't think you'll be living here much longer."

She paused, peeling off her mask. "What is that supposed to mean?"