The Forgotten Daughter: Reclaiming Love

Chapter 31: Winstanley's Estate (Part IV)

Third Person's POV

It had been four days since she arrived at her mother's home, four days of navigating the unfamiliar corridors of this grand mansion alone. Her mother, Madeline, and her half-siblings were all caught up in their own lives—Colton managing his business empire, Logan and Brian busy with their careers, Calvin wrapped up in the entertainment world, and Kaden and Annette occupied with their modeling and acting schedules. They were always away, and Amelia was left to fill her days with lessons, walks through the garden, and countless hours in her room.

Dinner had come and gone, and once again, she had eaten alone. The servants had been kind, of course, always making sure she had everything she needed, but it wasn't the same. The house, for all its grandeur, felt empty and cold.

As night fell, Amelia decided to get ready for bed. She put on her nightgown, a simple but comfortable piece that reminded her of home, and brushed her hair slowly, letting the quiet of the night settle around her. She was about to crawl into bed when she heard voices downstairs.

Curiosity piqued, and she tiptoed to her door and cracked it open slightly, listening carefully. The voices grew louder and more distinct. It was her mother and her siblings—they were finally home.

A spark of hope flared in her chest. Maybe they would come to check on her, to ask about her day, or to spend some time with her before bed. She stepped out of her room and made her way to the staircase, her heart beating a little faster with anticipation.

As she reached the top of the grand staircase, she heard laughter—a sound she hadn't heard from them since she arrived. It was warm and genuine, and it filled the vast space of the house in a way that made her pause. She crept down the stairs, careful to remain unnoticed, until she could see them in the living room below.

Her mother, Madeline, was seated on one of the plush sofas, a glass of wine in her hand. Her face was alight with joy, and her smile was radiant as she spoke to Colton, who was leaning back in an armchair, chuckling at something she had said. Logan and Brian were engaged in a lively conversation with Calvin and Kaden, their voices overlapping as they shared stories. Annette was sprawled out on the rug, her head resting on her brother's knee, laughing as she showed him something on her phone.

It was a scene of a happy, close-knit family, and for a moment, Amelia felt like an outsider looking in. She took a step back, her hand gripping the banister tightly. This was her family now, but watching them like this, she couldn't help but feel that she didn't belong.

The urge to join them, to step into the light and be a part of the laughter, warred with the deep-seated fear that she would never fit in, that she was just an intruder in their lives. The loneliness she had felt these past few days swelled in her chest, threatening to spill over.

But instead of walking down the stairs and into the warmth of the living room, Amelia slowly backed away. She turned and walked back up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. She didn't want to ruin their evening or intrude on the joy they shared so naturally without her. The thought of walking in and having them force smiles for her, or worse, not knowing how to include her in their merriment, was too painful to bear.

Back in her room, Amelia quietly closed the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, leaning against the door, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She had wanted this—she had wanted to be with her mother, to be part of this family. But now that she was here, she didn't know how to bridge the gap between them.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she walked over to her bed and crawled under the covers. She turned off the lamp on her nightstand, plunging the room into darkness. The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting soft shadows across the room.

Amelia lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn't quiet. She felt small and lost, like a child who had wandered too far from home. The mansion, which had seemed so grand and full of promise, now felt like a gilded cage, trapping her in a life she wasn't sure she was ready for.

As the minutes ticked by, she heard footsteps approaching her room. Her heart skipped a beat as she listened to them stop just outside her door. She held her breath, wondering who it was, and what they might say if they found her awake.

The door creaked open slowly, and Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, feigning sleep. She heard the soft rustle of fabric as someone stepped inside, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. There was a moment of silence, and then she felt a gentle hand brush against her hair, smoothing it back from her forehead.

Her heart ached at the touch—so familiar yet so distant. It was her mother. Amelia fought the urge to open her eyes, to reach out and hold her close, and to tell her how much she missed her. But she couldn't. The words were trapped in her throat, choked by the fear of being rejected, of being a burden.

Madeline's hand lingered for a moment longer, and Amelia felt the faintest pressure as her mother leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. It was a tender gesture, one that made Amelia's heart ache even more. It was as if her mother was trying to connect, but something held her back, keeping them from bridging the gap between them.

Then, just as quietly as she had come, Madeline pulled back. Amelia heard her mother whisper something—too soft for her to catch—before she turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening. Amelia's tears finally spilled over, sliding down her cheeks and onto the pillow. She lay there, her heart heavy with a sadness she couldn't quite name. She had felt her mother's love briefly, but it only made her more acutely aware of the distance between them.

The mansion was quiet once more, but the memory of her mother's touch lingered. It was a small comfort, one that she clung to as she finally drifted off to sleep.

But even in her dreams, the weight of the day followed her. She dreamt of the family in the living room, laughing and talking, while she stood outside, watching through a window she couldn't open. The warmth inside never reached her, no matter how hard she tried to break through the glass.