Transferred to another life

*Chapter Fifty-One: Exile**

*

The next morning, Darkwood Manor was unusually quiet, as if the house itself anticipated the storm that was about to break. Olivia walked through the hallways with an unsettling sense of calm, though the fury from the night before still burned hot within her. She knew what was coming. She had overheard the whispered plotting between Clara and her father, and now, the time for confrontation had arrived.

In the dining room, the family gathered for breakfast. The tension was palpable as they took their seats. Charles sat at the head of the table, his expression grim and distant. Clara, seated next to him, glanced briefly at Olivia before turning away, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. Matthew, fully recovered, sat quietly, his eyes fixed on his plate, but his presence was no less accusatory.

Aunt Beatrice was the last to enter, her gaze flicking nervously between Charles and Olivia. She gave Olivia a small, tentative nod, but before she could sit next to her, Charles spoke in a voice heavy with authority.

"Beatrice, please sit over there." He gestured to the opposite end of the table, away from Olivia. The request wasn't a suggestion; it was a command.

Aunt Beatrice froze, her face clouding with confusion. "Charles, I—"

"Please," he repeated, his voice firm. "Sit."

Beatrice hesitated but obeyed, settling herself at the far end, her eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and worry as they lingered on Olivia. Olivia felt a pang of anger on her aunt's behalf but kept her composure. She had to be prepared for what came next.

The breakfast passed in near silence, the clinking of cutlery the only sound in the room. No one spoke until Charles finally set down his cup of coffee with a heavy sigh. His eyes met Olivia's across the table.

"Olivia," he began, his voice low but firm, "we need to talk."

Olivia looked up, her face calm though her heart raced. "Yes, Father?"

Charles cleared his throat, his gaze darkening. "We've discussed this as a family... and it's been decided that, for everyone's safety, it's best if you leave Darkwood Manor."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Olivia could feel the weight of every eye on her—Clara's triumphant, Matthew's cold, and Beatrice's filled with shock and disbelief.

"Leave?" Olivia repeated, her voice steady despite the chaos swirling in her mind. "You're kicking me out?"

Charles nodded slowly, his face a mask of regret. "It's not what I want, Olivia. But it's clear that things have changed. Matthew's illness, your... unusual behavior. The accusations of magic, poison... We can't ignore them any longer. For the sake of the family, you must go."

Beatrice immediately rose from her seat, her voice trembling with anger. "Charles, this is madness! You can't just throw her out! She's your daughter!"

"Enough, Beatrice," Charles snapped, his patience thinning. "This decision is final."

Aunt Beatrice opened her mouth to argue, but Charles cut her off with a sharp look. "I will not tolerate any more interference. Olivia has become a danger to this household, and I will not risk anyone else's safety. I won't hear another word about it."

Beatrice's face fell, her protest silenced by Charles's commanding tone. She sank back into her seat, defeated, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she glanced toward Olivia, her silent apology clear.

Olivia held her aunt's gaze for a brief moment before turning back to her father. Her expression remained calm, but beneath it, she was seething.

"And where do you expect me to go?" Olivia asked, her voice tight.

"I've made arrangements," Charles replied coldly. "You'll be staying at the old estate in the countryside. It's isolated, far enough away that you'll have time to... reflect on your actions."

"Exile," Olivia said softly, the word heavy with bitterness.

"You'll be provided for," Charles added, as if that would somehow soften the blow. "But you're no longer welcome here, Olivia. You've left me no choice."

Clara's smug expression tightened at the corners of Olivia's vision, and Olivia knew this had been her doing. Clara's influence had tipped the scales, pushing Charles to make this decision.

Matthew, though silent, didn't lift his eyes from his food. He hadn't even tried to defend his accusations. It was as if he no longer cared what happened, content to let Clara lead the charge against her.

Olivia's gaze hardened as she stood from the table, the cold fury within her growing with each passing second. She could feel her father's resolve, Clara's satisfaction, and the family's distrust all directed at her like daggers. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"Very well," she said, her voice measured. "I'll leave. But you're making a mistake, Father."

Charles's face tightened, but he said nothing.

Olivia turned, her eyes briefly meeting Aunt Beatrice's once more. The older woman looked heartbroken, but Charles's silencing had left her powerless.

With her head held high, Olivia walked out of the dining room. The weight of exile bore down on her, but something far darker stirred beneath the surface of her calm exterior.

If they wanted to cast her out, then they would soon learn the true cost of their betrayal.

Olivia had spent her entire life mastering alchemy, potions, and secrets. If they thought they were rid of her, they were wrong. And when she returned, it would be on her terms, not theirs.

As she left Darkwood Manor behind, her mind raced with thoughts of revenge, her fury twisting into a new plan. Clara and Charles had made their move, but Olivia wasn't done yet.

Far from it.