Chapter 27 #2
I felt Amelia tense beside me, but she didn’t try to deny anything. Instead, she lifted her chin defiantly. “That’s her name. And yes, I care about her. Deeply.”
“This is worse than I thought,” Mother whispered, sinking into one of the ornate chairs in the foyer. “Both of my children, seduced by monsters. How did we fail so completely?”
“You didn’t fail,” I said, feeling oddly calm despite the chaos erupting around us. “You succeeded exactly as you intended. You raised us to be obedient little puppets who would do whatever you wanted without question. The only problem is, we grew up and realized we deserved better.”
My father’s magical aura flared brighter, and I felt the familiar tingle of a compulsion spell building. But before he could cast it, Amelia stepped forward, her own magic rising to meet his.
“Try it,” she said softly, her blue eyes blazing with power. “Cast one more spell on either of us, and see what happens.”
The threat in her voice was unmistakable, and I felt a surge of pride for my sister. She’d always been the more magically gifted of the two of us, but I’d never seen her use that power to stand up to our parents before.
“Amelia,” Father warned, but his spell faltered.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m done being controlled by you. We both are. So you have a choice. You can accept that we’re adults who are capable of making our own decisions about our lives, or you can lose both your children today.”
I leaned back into a casting position at her side. “You can choose us or you can deal with the fire elemental that I’m going to let loose in the foyer,” I warned. “It’s your choice.”
I watched my father’s face cycle through several emotions. There was shock, rage, calculation, and finally something that looked almost like respect. The magical pressure in the room was suffocating as three powerful witches faced off in a battle of wills that could level half the mansion.
“You would really destroy your own home?” he asked quietly, his voice deadly calm.
“Without hesitation,” Amelia replied, and I could feel the heat radiating from my own gathering magic. “This place stopped being our home the moment you decided we were property to be traded instead of people to be loved.”
Mother looked between us, her perfect composure finally cracking. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do this. You’re our children. We love you.”
“No,” I said, feeling the words tear something loose in my chest. “You love the idea of us. The perfect Quinn heirs who would carry on your legacy and make advantageous marriages. You’ve never loved who we actually are.”
The truth of those words lifted a weight from my shoulders I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. All my life, I’d been trying to earn their approval, their affection, by being the son they wanted rather than the person I was. And they’d never seen the difference.
“That’s not true,” Father said, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Isn’t it?” Amelia challenged. “When was the last time either of you asked what made us happy? When did you ever care about our dreams, our hopes, our fears? All you’ve ever cared about is how we reflected on the family name.”
I felt tears stinging my eyes as memories flooded back.
Every time I’d tried to share something I was passionate about, only to be redirected toward more “appropriate” interests.
Every accomplishment that had been praised not for what it meant to me, but for how it would look to other families.
Every moment of genuine emotion that had been dismissed as inconvenient.
“We gave you everything,” Mother protested weakly. “The best education, the finest clothes, connections to the most powerful families—”
“You gave us everything except what we actually needed,” I interrupted. “Love. Acceptance. The freedom to be ourselves.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy with years of unspoken resentment and disappointment. I could see my parents struggling with concepts that had never occurred to them before. That their children might need something more than just direction. That they needed love.
“So what now?” Father asked finally, his shoulders sagging with defeat. “You walk away from everything? Your inheritance, your place in society, your family?”
I looked at Amelia, seeing my own determination reflected in her eyes. “If that’s what it takes to be free, then yes.”
“And you think those creatures will be there for you when the money runs out?” Mother’s voice was sharp with bitterness. “When you’re no longer useful to them?”
The casual cruelty of the question made my magic flare dangerously.
“This conversation is over,” I said, leaving no room for argument.
“We’re leaving. And if someday you two come to your senses, we can try to work it out.
Until then, I don’t want to hear from you.
” I glanced at Amelia and she gave me a little nod. “Neither of us do.”
Silence.
“Go,” my father said.
Then, without another word, he took our mother by the arm and led her into the house. And I, feeling a strange juxtaposition of grief and freedom, took Amelia by the hand and led her back through the front door out onto the grounds.
We were free.