Chapter 3

Nora's POV

The Miller family estate was nestled in the scenic hills on the outskirts of the city, a luxury property my father, George Miller, had purchased two decades ago. The manicured garden was bursting with David Austin roses—Daisy’s favorites—each bush costing a small fortune to maintain.

Standing outside the wrought-iron gate, I took a steadying breath before pressing the video intercom.

When the butler answered the front door, he visibly froze, clearly not expecting me to show up unannounced.

"Miss Nora?" The butler looked baffled. "What brings you home?"

I didn't answer him, walking past him straight into the spacious foyer.

The living room was warm and lively. George was sitting on the leather sectional browsing the financial news, my mother, Evelyn, was hovering by the kitchen giving instructions to the chef about a braised soup, and the giant television was playing a trending drama Daisy was currently obsessing over.

The three of them looked like the picture-perfect happy family.

As I walked in, George glanced up from his tablet, his brow instantly furrowing. "You're back? You couldn't even give us a heads-up first?"

"I’m just here to pick up my passport and birth certificate," I said, my voice entirely flat.

George's frown deepened with irritation. "What do you need your vital records for right now?"

"Personal matters."

George tossed his tablet onto the coffee table, exasperation coloring his tone. "You're getting married in three days, and you still can't act like a mature adult. Whatever it is, can't you wait? Why do you always have to be so dramatic and impatient? When have you ever seen Daisy behave this recklessly?"

I kept my eyes on the floor, saying nothing.

It had always been this way. Whatever criticism my parents threw at me, I had learned to accept it in absolute silence. When they scolded me, I never talked back; when they blatantly favored Daisy, I never fought for my share. I had foolishly believed that keeping quiet was the only way to earn an approving nod—to be called the "good, sensible daughter."

But what was the point of being sensible?

The well-behaved daughter never gets loved.

Evelyn poked her head out of the kitchen. Seeing me standing there, a flash of awkward discomfort crossed her face. "Oh, Nora, you're here? Have you eaten? I can have the chef fix you a bowl of soup."

"No need, Mom," I answered evenly. "I'll be out of your hair the second I grab my papers."

Evelyn parted her lips as if wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed her words and retreated back toward the kitchen.

Right then, the front doorbell chimed.

The butler hurried to answer it, followed by the sound of frantic, hurried footsteps echoing down the marble hallway.

"Oh my goodness, Daisy! What happened to you?" Evelyn's panicked voice came from the entryway, dripping with distress.

I turned around and saw Julian carrying Daisy through the door.

Daisy had her arms wrapped snugly around his neck, her bare ankle wrapped clumsily in a makeshift ice pack. Her eyes were rimmed with red, tears clinging to her lashes, looking the picture of helpless fragility.

"Nora..." Daisy gasped softly upon seeing me, blinking in feigned surprise before her tears spilled over. "Nora, you're here? I was walking down the terrace steps and twisted my ankle... It hurts so bad..."

Watching the spectacle unfold, a wave of dark amusement washed over me.

Daisy sprained an ankle, and the entire household fell into hysterics.

When I had a raging fever of a hundred and two, nobody even checked if I was alive.

That was the difference.

Julian carefully laid Daisy onto the plush sofa. George immediately rushed over to inspect her foot, while Evelyn was practically in tears, frantically dialing the family physician on speakerphone while muttering, "How could you be so careless, my poor baby..."

Not a single soul paid attention to me standing on the periphery.

Or rather, they saw me, but chose to pretend I didn't exist.

Just like they had for the past twenty-four years.

Watching the three of them hover anxiously over Daisy, a profound exhaustion settled deep into my bones.

I hadn't come here to watch their family theater. I came for my documents.

I walked over to the antique console table by the study door and picked up the folder containing my passport, birth certificate, and social security card.

Right then, George happened to look up. Catching sight of the documents clutched in my hand, his face darkened. "What are you doing with those official records?"

"Renouncing my citizenship and canceling my registration," I stated calmly.

The room suddenly went dead silent.

George’s face twisted into instant fury. "Renouncing your citizenship? What kind of insane nonsense are you spewing now?"

Daisy peered up from the cushions, tears glistening on her cheeks as she gasped softly, "Nora... you're... you aren't thinking of doing something crazy to yourself, are you? Please don't scare me like this..."

Evelyn spun around, her face pale with worry, yet the words tumbling from her mouth carried that familiar, reflexive sting of reproach. "Nora, what kind of tantrum is this? Can’t you see the state your sister is in, and you’re still trying to stir up drama..."

Julian turned to me as well, his brow furrowing slightly in disapproval. "Nora, stop being childish."

A bitter laugh nearly slipped past my lips.

I hadn't raised my voice, I hadn't made a scene, yet in their eyes, I was instantly labeled as "childish," "dramatic," and "suicidal."

It had always been like this. Even when I did absolutely nothing wrong, my mere existence was treated as an inconvenience.

"I’m taking my documents," I said, slipping the folder securely into my leather tote. "You can consider our legal ties severed in three days."

George shot up from the sofa. "Nora Miller, you stop right there!"

Ignoring him, I turned on my heel and headed for the double doors.

George’s furious shouting chased after me. "Look at you! Utterly rebellious and ungrateful! You live to cause this family grief! Why can't you learn a thing or two from Daisy? Be sensible for once in your life and think about everything your parents have sacrificed for you—"

My stride faltered for a fraction of a second.

I didn't turn around.

I merely tilted my chin up, whispering under my breath so softly that only the empty air could hear:

"If I had the choice, I would have loved to be the spoiled, selfish one too."

Then, I pushed open the heavy front door and stepped out into the crisp air.

Behind me, Daisy's soft, angelic voice echoed gently, placating our parents: "Dad, Mom, please don't be mad at her... Nora might just be stressed about the wedding..."

I smiled faintly.

Daisy was always like this. She stole everything that belonged to me, only to look at me with big, innocent doe eyes and ask, You're not mad at me, are you?

She stole Lucas Payne, only to tilt her head with faux naivety and murmur, You don't mind, do you?

And now she had Julian wrapped around her finger, murmuring with sweet concern, Please don't overthink things.

While I was forever the one demanded to be "mature," "gracious," and "yielding."

I walked down the private driveway, the midday sun glaring into my eyes.

I tilted my head back to gaze at the open sky.

The weather was brilliant today—vast, clear, without a cloud in sight.

And inside my chest, the long, suffocating storm had finally poured its last drop of rain.