Eva Graham POV:

The news anchor' s voice, a grim monotone, continued to echo through the lavish living room. "We urge all adventurers and hikers to avoid the New England National Park area. Law enforcement officials are not commenting further at this time, but the scene is active and considered dangerous."

Kellan, still glued to the screen, let out a low whistle. "Man, that's wild. Remember that glamping trip? We were right near there."

Carina, ever the dramatic one, shivered theatrically. "Don't even say that, Kellan. It's creepy. I'm glad we left when we did."

Hilda, her forehead creased in a frown, stared intently at the screen. A flicker of unease crossed her face, quickly replaced by her usual disdain.

Kellan suddenly jumped up, his eyes alight. "Wait, this is perfect! I can tell all my college buddies I almost got caught up in a crime scene! That'll totally boost my cred."

Hilda' s brief tension dissipated, replaced by a slight smile. "Well, that's one way to look at it, dear. But let's not make light of a serious situation."

She turned from the screen, her focus shifting. "Now, about your grandmother's birthday. Have you both thought about what you're going to say for her speech? It needs to be heartfelt, but not overly sentimental. And of course, the gifts. Kellan, you know what she prefers."

"Eva always helped me pick out Grandma's gifts," Kellan mumbled, a rare hint of sadness in his voice. "She had a knack for finding just the right thing."

Carina, sensing a shift in attention, quickly interjected. "Don't worry, Mom. My gift is absolutely perfect. Grandma will be thrilled."

Kellan, already distracted, turned back to the TV, clicking through channels. The news report was gone, replaced by a mindless reality show.

Hilda' s smile faltered at the mention of my name, a familiar sneer tightening her lips. "Eva always had to be the special one, didn't she? Always manipulating Gwendolyn with her 'uniqueness'."

She stood up, her silk dressing gown swishing around her ankles. "I'm going to bed. This whole Eva situation has exhausted me."

She retreated to her spacious bedroom, the door clicking softly behind her. I followed, a silent observer in her gilded cage.

Hilda sank onto her king-sized bed, picking up her phone. She scrolled, then checked her messages. Nothing from me. The silence from my end was deafening, even to her.

She remembered our last conversation, a yelling match, as most of ours were. I had tried to explain why I couldn't come to some charity gala she was hosting. I was working, barely making ends meet. She had accused me of being ungrateful, of trying to sabotage her.

A strange, unfamiliar churn twisted in her gut. It wasn't concern, not really. More like… irritation that her carefully curated life was being disrupted.

She recorded another voicemail, her voice sharper than before. "Eva, this is your mother. I' ve called, I' ve texted. Your grandmother' s jubilee is this weekend. If you don't show up, there will be serious consequences. I'm through with your games. Do not disappoint me."

She threw the phone onto her bedside table and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. My ghost hovers, wanting to cry, but no tears would come.

Consequences? You have no idea, Mother.

I remembered my graduation six months ago. My proudest moment. I had graduated with honors, a degree in graphic design, a path I had chosen myself. I called them, eager for them to be there. But Carina had a minor sniffle, a "terrible allergic reaction" to a new perfume. They cancelled at the last minute.

"We can't leave Carina in this state, Eva," Hilda had said, her voice devoid of apology. "You understand, don't you? Some things are more important."

I didn' t understand. I never did. When I expressed my disappointment, they had banished me. "If you're going to be so dramatic, Eva, perhaps it's best you find your own way. We've done enough for you."

I hadn't told Gwendolyn. She would have been furious with Hilda. I never wanted to cause trouble for her. And I couldn' t bring myself to use her connections to find a job, even when I was starving. My pride, what little I had left, wouldn't allow it.

Hilda knew my weakness. She knew I craved her approval, her love. She had used it against me countless times, threatening to cut me off, to disown me. In the past, I would always cave, always apologize, always try to win her back.

But now, I was dead. Her threats were meaningless. The strings that bound me to her were severed.

The next morning, Hilda woke up to a stream of messages. Not from me, but from her friend, Penelope.

Penelope (8:00 AM): Hilda, darling, everything alright? Haven't seen Eva around. She's usually so good about checking in on me.

Penelope (8:05 AM): I bought her that little art book she wanted for Christmas. Planning to give it to her at Gwendolyn's party. Hope she comes!

Penelope (8:10 AM): I know she's been struggling a bit, but she's such a sweet girl. Always thinking of others.

Hilda read the messages, a strange sense of unease settling in her chest. Penelope meant well, but her constant praise of Eva always grated on her nerves. Eva had always been a "sweet girl" to everyone else, a "troublemaker" to her own family.

She tossed her phone onto the bed. Penelope's words were a distant echo. The quiet in the house, however, was deafening. No calls from me. No texts. Nothing. And for the first time, Hilda felt a cold dread creep into her heart. It wasn't just silence anymore. It was an absence. A void.

Eva Graham POV:

Penelope' s messages were a balm to my ghostly spirit, a gentle whisper of warmth in the cold expanse of my afterlife. She remembers me. She cares.

I remembered Penelope, her kind eyes, her gentle hand on my arm. When I was small, after a particularly harsh scolding from Hilda, Penelope would sneak me cookies and tell me I was special. She' d listen to my dreams of being an artist, nodding encouragingly when my mother would just scoff.

"You're a bright light, Eva," she'd say, her voice soft. "Don't let anyone dim it."

I knew now, in death, that those were kind lies, meant to soothe a lonely child. My mother had effectively extinguished that light.

But even as a ghost, I found myself still tethered to Hilda, unable to fully detach. A part of me, the part that had longed for her acceptance, still hovered, a silent observer of her life. I didn't want to watch her happy, oblivious to my suffering, but I couldn't leave.

Hilda picked up her phone, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Hilda (8:15 AM): Penelope, darling, everything's fine. Eva is just being Eva. You know how she gets. Of course, she'll be at Mother's jubilee. Wouldn't miss it for the world.

Hilda (8:17 AM): You're still coming, aren't you? It won't be the same without you.

Penelope (8:20 AM): Wouldn't miss it, Hilda! Looking forward to seeing you all. And yes, I'll bring Eva's book. I know she wanted that special edition.

Hilda paused, her thumb hovering over the screen. The special edition? A faint memory stirred within her. I had shown her that book once, years ago. A rare art history text. "Look, Mom," I had said, my voice full of excitement, "Penelope said she might get me this for Christmas! Isn't it beautiful?" Hilda had barely glanced at it, already distracted by a call.

The next day, my absence remained a gaping wound in their carefully constructed reality. No calls, no texts, no sign of me. The silence was absolute.

Gwendolyn arrived early, her presence a crisp, cool breeze cutting through the heavy air of the house. I felt a surge of something akin to joy, a flicker of my old self. Grandma!

I had longed to see her, to feel her comforting embrace, to hear her familiar voice. My ghostly form yearned to reach out, but I was invisible, untouchable. I was trapped, bound by the unfinished business of my life, by the lingering shadow of my mother's indifference. But seeing Gwendolyn, even from this ethereal distance, brought a strange comfort, dulling the sharp edges of my grief.

Carina, ever the opportunist, rushed to Gwendolyn, her face plastered with a saccharine smile. "Grandma! So glad you're here! You look absolutely stunning!"

She embraced Gwendolyn, a practiced display of affection. I watched, remembering how Carina used to use me to get closer to Gwendolyn, fetching her tea, offering to read to her, always with a calculated sweetness.

Gwendolyn, though, was not easily fooled. She returned the hug politely, her eyes already scanning the room. "Where is Eva, Carina?" she asked, her voice firm.

Hilda entered the room, her smile tight. "Mother, you're early! Carina, why don't you get your grandmother some tea?"

Carina scurried off, the picture of a dutiful granddaughter.

Gwendolyn' s eyes, now devoid of any warmth, fixed on Hilda. "Where. Is. Eva?"

Hilda bristled. "Mother, really. Must we do this every time? She's probably just sulking somewhere. You know how she is."

"I know how you are, Hilda," Gwendolyn retorted, her voice icy. "You've always had a cruel streak, especially where Eva is concerned. My only regret is not taking her away from you sooner."

Hilda gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Mother! How can you say that? I've been nothing but a devoted mother to all my children!"

"Devoted?" Gwendolyn spat the word out like a curse. "You fawn over Carina, spoil Kellan rotten, and treat Eva like dirt beneath your shoe! Don't deny it, Hilda. I have eyes."

Hilda's face flushed crimson. "Eva is manipulative, Mother! She twists things! She drives a wedge between us!"

I drove a wedge? You drove it, Mother. You hammered it in deeper with every dismissive glance, every cruel word.

I remembered the countless times I' d been punished for Carina's lies, for Kellan's pranks. Carina, especially, was a master of manipulation. A tearful accusation, a whispered lie, and I was always the scapegoat. I tried to explain, to defend myself, but my parents never listened. "Eva, stop making excuses! Why can't you be more like Carina?" they'd say, their words a dull thud against my already bruised spirit. I eventually stopped fighting. I accepted my role as the outsider, the black sheep. It was easier than trying to break through their impenetrable wall of bias.

"Enough!" Iain boomed, stepping between the two women. "This is Gwendolyn's birthday. Let's not ruin it."

Gwendolyn shot him a withering look, but her anger, for a moment, seemed to deflate. She tolerated Iain, I knew, because he was Hilda' s choice, a consequence of her own youthful rebellions. But she never truly accepted him, just as she never truly accepted Carina. She saw Carina for what she was: a calculating imposter.

Her eyes flickered to Carina, who had just returned with the tea tray, her smile still firmly in place. A flicker of contempt, quickly masked, crossed Gwendolyn's face.

"Where is Eva?" Gwendolyn asked again, her voice quieter now, but no less insistent. "I want to speak to my granddaughter." Her gaze was fixed on Hilda. The question was a demand, not an inquiry.

Eva Graham POV:

Gwendolyn had never approved of Iain. He was beneath Hilda, in her estimation, a man of ambition but not of pedigree. Then came my father, a brief, passionate affair that left Hilda pregnant and disgraced. A scandal. Iain, ever the opportunist, married Hilda, adopting me to salvage her reputation and secure his place in the family fortune. That was my purpose, I realized later. A pawn.

The paternity test confirmed it. I was Iain's biological daughter, though he rarely acted like it. Hilda, scarred by the scandal, resented my very existence. I was a constant reminder of her youthful indiscretion, a living testament to her fall from grace. She used me to keep Iain, a bargaining chip in her desperate need for security. But she never loved me.

They treated me like a ghost, even when I was alive. An inconvenient truth, easily ignored. When I was three, they packed me off to Gwendolyn, a silent banishment. They started their "real" family soon after. Kellan, Iain's biological son from a previous marriage, arrived, and Hilda poured all her maternal instincts into him. Then, five years later, they adopted Carina. She was showered with affection, every whim indulged, every desire met. A perfect, polished doll for their perfect, polished life.

I was the biological daughter, yet I was the outsider, the inconvenient truth hidden in the attic, then sent away.

"I still haven't heard from her, Mother," Hilda said, her voice tight, a hint of genuine worry finally seeping through. "I've tried everything. She's completely vanished."

Gwendolyn' s eyes narrowed. "Then find her. Now. Before dinner. If she's not here, there will be no jubilee. And no inheritance."

Hilda sighed, a long-suffering sound. "Mother, please. Can we just eat? I'm sure she'll turn up eventually. She always does this, you know. She just wants attention."

"Attention?" Gwendolyn' s voice sharpened like a blade. "She wants to be loved, Hilda. Something you' ve never been able to give her. Now, tell me, what happened two months ago? The last time you saw her?"

Hilda hesitated, her eyes darting away. She omitted the slap, the cruel dismissal, the desperate calls. She skipped over the part where Carina had accused me of pushing her, the part where I had wandered off into the storm, broken.

"She was upset," Hilda said, choosing her words carefully, a practiced lie. "About her graduation. We couldn't make it, you see. Carina had a terrible allergic reaction, absolutely heartbreaking. Eva, being Eva, took it personally. She's always been so dramatic."

Gwendolyn slammed her cane on the floor. "You missed her graduation? Hilda, how could you? That's a milestone! A child's graduation is as important as their wedding day!"

Hilda squirmed, unable to defend herself. A flicker of cold calculation entered her eyes. She pictured Carina, fragile and perfect, and then me, always the problem. She would protect Carina, always.

A heavy silence descended upon the dining table. Iain, ever the peacekeeper, cleared his throat. "Dinner is ready, Gwendolyn. The chef prepared your favorites."

Gwendolyn, with a sigh of resignation, took her seat. She would eat, but the battle was far from over. Hilda, seeing a momentary reprieve, brightened, pouring wine for everyone, her smile brittle.

"To a wonderful jubilee, Mother!" she chirped, raising her glass.

Gwendolyn, however, put her hand over her glass. Her eyes bored into Hilda' s. "Hilda, you know my health. I need to be careful. Unlike others…" Her gaze flicked to Carina for a split second. "I have to be careful with my choices."

She then turned her attention back to Hilda. "Speaking of health, Hilda, do you ever think about Eva? Do you ever think about the gift she gave you, years ago?"

Hilda blinked. "What gift, Mother? Eva never gave me anything of value."

Gwendolyn' s lips thinned. "She gave you a chance at life, Hilda. When your kidneys failed, and everyone else was a mismatch. Eva, your own flesh and blood, donated her bone marrow. Anonymously, because she didn't want you to feel obligated."

Hilda' s face drained of color. "What are you talking about? Carina donated her marrow! She saved my life! She' s my selfless hero!"

Hilda pointed a trembling finger at Gwendolyn. "You're lying! You're trying to turn me against Carina! You always hated her, didn't you, Mother? Because she's not your perfect little Eva!"

Gwendolyn stood up, her eyes blazing. "You fool, Hilda! You absolute, blind fool!"

Carina, who had been quietly eating, suddenly dropped her fork with a clatter, her eyes wide with manufactured fear. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Grandma, why are you being so mean? I love you! I just want everyone to be happy."

Hilda, instantly, rushed to Carina's side, pulling her into a protective embrace. "See, Mother? You're upsetting her! You always try to make Eva seem like a saint and Carina a villain! It's not fair!"

"Either you stop this nonsense, Mother, or you can leave!" Hilda's voice was sharp, defiant.

My ghost heart wept. It was true, Mother. It was always me. For you. For love.

I remembered the hospital room, the pain, the fear. My grandmother had known, of course. She' d tried to stop me from lying, from letting Carina take the credit. But I had begged her to keep my secret. I wanted my mother's love to be pure, unburdened by obligation. I wanted her to love me for me, not for what I gave her. I wanted her to love me like she loved Carina.

Gwendolyn, burdened by her own past mistakes, her own guilt for Hilda' s difficult upbringing, had conceded. She had watched, heartbroken, as Hilda showered Carina with praise, while I, still recovering, was ignored in my hospital bed.

Hilda, oblivious to the truth, continued to comfort Carina, pouring out her love and adoration. My sacrifice, my pain, my desperate attempt to earn her love, had been in vain.

The family dinner ended in bitter discord, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air. As Hilda escorted a tearful Carina to her room, her phone rang.

The screen flashed with my name. "Eva Graham."