Tracy's POV
I don't know why I did it.
Maybe because some part of me still believed she'd take it all back. Maybe because, after everything, I still wanted my mother— wanted to hear her say -come home-.
Mrs. Callahan had stepped out to tend her garden, and I sat in her quiet living room, staring at the phone on the table like it was a live bomb. My fingers trembled as I picked it up. I shouldn't have called. I knew I shouldn't.
But I did.
The line rang once. Twice. Three times. And then—
She picked.
"…" Silence. Now that she has received the call, I did not know what to say first. My mind went blank.
" Yes?" Her voice came through. It didn't sound like someone who was sad, grieving- for the disappearing of her daughter.
" Mo..Mother.." I finally spoke. Voice cracking.
The line was silent for some seconds . She was probably shocked from hearing my voice.
" ..Tracy? " she said finally.
" Mother." I called again - near tears.
"What the hell do you want, Tracy?"
Her voice. Sharp as glass. No warmth, no hesitation. Just ice.
My throat tightened. "M–Mom… it's me."
"I know it is you," she snapped. "You have made a fine mess of everything, haven't you?"
The words stung, but I pushed through, desperate. "I just… I saw the news. You said I wasn't your daughter. That can not be true. You— you have never treated me like I was different before. You have been kind, you never hated me. Why are you saying these things now?"
Silence on the other end, but not the comforting kind. The heavy, dangerous kind.
Finally, she spoke, her tone dripping with disdain. "Don't you get it, Tracy? You were never meant to be more than a placeholder. A stand- in. We kept you because you were useful. You were sharp, you worked hard, and you brought money into the company. That is the only reason you were tolerated this long."
My stomach dropped. My chest hollowed.
"A placeholder…" I whispered.
"You think I'd ever allow my adopted daughter to marry into their family? To become a—" she spat out the name of the family, one so prestigious, so powerful, I'd grown up hearing it whispered with reverence "—daughter-in-law? While my own daughter is still very much alive? Never. I could not allow that disgrace. You aren't blood. You never were."
I pressed my hand over my mouth, but the sob still slipped out. "Why now? Why are you only acting this way now, after all these years?"
Her laugh was cold, cruel. "Because they wanted you, Tracy. Not my real daughter. You. Do you understand how humiliating that is? To have them choose an outsider over her? My own flesh and blood ignored for the sake of someone like you."
I could hear her breathing hard, every word steeped in venom.
"That is why," she continued, voice low and certain, "I made sure it looked like you ran away. That is why your sister stepped into your place. Do you think I would let you take what should have been hers? I will never forgive you for making them prefer you. Never."
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, tears blurring my vision. "So everything… everything you did, the kindness, the patience, the way you stood beside me in the company— it was all a lie?"
"Yes!" she hissed. "Every bit of it. You were only ever useful. Nothing more. And now your usefulness has ended."
Her voice sharpened, each word deliberate. "Listen to me carefully. If you ever show your face at this family again, I will have you dead. Do you understand? Stay gone. Live your pitiful life far away, and don't you dare crawl back here."
The line went dead.
I did not move. Didn't breathe. The silence screamed louder than her words ever could.
My hand slipped, the phone clattering against the wooden floor. I curled in on myself, knees pulled to my chest, as the tears came hot and fast.
So it was true. Every suspicion I'd buried, every uneasy glance I'd ignored, every whisper I'd pretended not to hear. I wasn't an Alcott. I never was. I was nothing more than a pawn they polished up and paraded around when it suited them.
The daughter they claimed as theirs when I was useful. The stranger they cast out when I threatened their pride.
And now— I was a ghost.
I don't know how long I sat there, rocking back and forth, trying to breathe through the hollow ache in my chest. At some point, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Mrs. Callahan.
She didn't ask questions. She did not demand answers. She just pulled me into her arms, the scent of lavender clinging to her clothes, and let me sob against her.
Her voice was steady, gentle. "Let it out, child. Let it all out."
And I did. I cried until I could not anymore, until my body was weak and my throat raw. Until I had nothing left.
But her words kept echoing in my head.
I will have you dead.
For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to be truly alone.