My half-sister poured a glass of cabernet straight over my head in front of sixty donors, then gasped and told our father I’d shoved her.
The painting hall was eerily quiet the next morning. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, creating an almost sacred hush. No students, no faculty. Just the faint smell of turpentine and canvas.
I stood in the center of the room, my back to the entrance, the large envelope heavy in my hand. I could feel Julianne’s presence before I heard her.
Her heels clicked sharply on the polished floor. I turned slowly.
Julianne sauntered in, her designer bag slung over her shoulder, a smug smirk already etched on her face. Her eyes scanned the empty room, then settled on me, a flicker of triumph in their depths.
“Well, well, Maya,” she purred, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Leaving without a fuss, I see. Dean Holloway told me you were withdrawing.”
She stopped a few feet from me, arms crossed. “Smart choice. Honestly, you never really fit in here, did you? Always the outsider. The scholarship kid.”
She walked past me, tracing a finger along the edge of an empty easel. “You know, this school, this family… it’s not for people like you. It’s for people like me.”
Her voice hardened. “You thought you could come in here, charm Daddy, steal my spotlight with your ‘art.’ You thought you could take something that was mine.”
She turned back to me, her eyes glittering with malice. “Let’s be clear, Maya. You will always be an outsider. You don’t belong in the Snyder family. Not really. And now, you’re finally going home, where you belong.”
She expected me to beg. To cry. To plead for a second chance. Her face was set, triumphant, completely unyielding.
But I didn’t say a word. I simply walked over to the heavy, carved oak door of the painting hall.
Julianne watched me, her smirk faltering slightly. “What are you doing?”
I reached for the lock. The old brass mechanism clicked, a loud, decisive sound in the echoing silence. The door was now secured. No administrators, no students, no one could walk in on us.
I looked at Julianne, my face devoid of any emotion. “We’re going to have a private conversation,” I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside me. “Just you and me.”
Julianne’s eyes narrowed. The smugness vanished, replaced by a flicker of unease. Her gaze darted to the locked door, then back to my expressionless face. The air in the room suddenly grew heavier, charged with an unspoken tension.
She had expected to gloat, to witness my defeat. She had not expected this.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours