Cera moved into my room.

As for me, I didn't move into her dark, damp room.

I just found an empty guest room to stay in for the time being.

The bedding the maid prepared for me was cold and musty, smelling of mildew.

I ended up sleeping in my clothes.

It was only for a few more days.

Once I got through this, everything would be over.

But the next morning, as I went downstairs, I saw that the small hall dedicated to my mother's memorial was a complete mess.

My mother's portrait was thrown on the floor, the frame shattered, the picture stained with muddy prints.

My smiling mother now looked like she was crying out to me in agony.

The white roses for the memorial were scattered everywhere, and Cera's French bulldog was tearing at the petals.

Cera stood to the side, clapping her hands and cheering it on.

I stood there, feeling the blood rush to my head.

All reason, all my attempts to endure, vanished in an instant.

Like a madwoman, I grabbed a nearby crystal vase and hurled it at the dog.

The little dog yelped and ran away with its tail between its legs. Cera screamed as shards of the vase cut her arm.

"Rosalie! What are you doing? How could you attack your sister!"

My father's voice boomed just as Cera ran crying into his arms.

"Father, save me! Sister is trying to kill me..."

"Rosalie, you've gone too far!"

"Can't you see? She threw my mother's offerings on the floor and ruined her portrait!"

I was shaking all over, tears streaming down my face. I felt so much pain and injustice for my mother.

But my father only glanced at the mess on the floor and frowned. "That doesn't give you the right to hurt someone! In the Moretti family, we have rules!"

"Father..."

"Rosalie, your mother has been gone for a long time. The dead aren't as important as the living!"

Cera, with a pale face, spoke up timidly. "Father, it was my puppy that accidentally knocked things over. I was going to apologize to sister, but she rushed over and hit me as soon as she came downstairs. I didn't even have a chance to speak before she threw the vase at me..."

She held up her bleeding arm, looking pitifully at our father. "Father, maybe Mom and I should just move out..."

"The animal doesn't know any better, but don't you?"

My father glared at me. He suddenly raised his hand, and as the heavy slap landed, I forgot to move.

He seemed to freeze for a second.

But in the end, he said nothing. He simply turned, took Cera's arm, and called for the family doctor to treat her wound.

I watched them leave, and it took a moment before I felt the stinging pain on my cheek.

I raised my hand to my swollen face. As a tear fell, I let out a bitter laugh.

I knew then. This home, this so-called Moretti family, there was no place left for me here.