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."

Eva Graham POV:

Hilda snatched her phone, her eyes narrowing. "Finally! The little brat decides to grace us with her presence!"

She answered, her voice laced with venom. "Eva, what do you want? Don't think for a second your little disappearing act is going to win you any sympathy."

A male voice, deep and unfamiliar, came through the speaker. "Is this… Hilda Fowler? Eva Graham's mother?"

Hilda' s brow furrowed. "Who is this? Why do you have Eva's phone?"

"My name is Detective Miller," the voice replied, calm and professional. "We found Miss Graham's identification and phone in a rental property registered to her. We have reason to believe she was involved in a gambling ring operating out of the premises."

Hilda' s frown lessened slightly. Gambling? Of course. Always causing trouble.

"We need you to come down to the precinct to confirm some details," Detective Miller continued. "And to collect her belongings."

Hilda snorted, a dismissive sound. She hung up, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. Then she calmly placed the phone back on the table and picked up her fork, as if nothing had happened.

Carina, who had been listening intently from the doorway, glided back into the dining room, her face etched with a look of concern. "Mom, what was that? Was that Eva? Is she alright?"

Hilda waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, it's just Eva, being Eva. Her phone went missing, apparently. Some ridiculous gambling thing, probably just a misunderstanding. She'll be fine."

She took a sip of her wine, her composure meticulously restored. "I'll go down to the precinct later, after dinner. No need to disturb our evening."

Carina' s eyes, however, held a flicker of genuine fear, quickly masked by her usual sweet facade. "Oh, Mom, you shouldn't have to deal with that. You're exhausted. Let me go. I can handle it. I'll make sure everything is sorted."

Hilda smiled, a genuine, appreciative smile. "Oh, Carina, you're such a thoughtful daughter. So unlike some others I could mention." Her gaze, for a fleeting moment, lingered on my empty seat. "Yes, darling, that would be wonderful. Just make sure they don't try to pin anything on Eva. She's got enough problems."

My ghost felt a profound disappointment, a final, crushing blow. This was it. My last chance. My final plea.

To Hilda, it was just a phone call, a minor inconvenience, another one of Eva's dramas. She had no idea. She never did. I was just a problem, a stain on her perfect life.

I watched Carina. Her fear was real, a raw, primal terror that clawed at her perfect composure. She knew. She knew what that phone call meant. She had heard my screams. She had let me die.

Hilda, in her gilded ignorance, continued to praise Carina. "You're truly a blessing, Carina. Always so responsible. So considerate. Not like Eva, always causing us grief."

Her words, even in my ethereal state, still pierced me. I remembered the endless comparisons, the constant undermining. Why couldn't I be more like Carina? Why couldn't I be enough for you?

Carina grabbed her car keys, her movements swift and jerky. She paused at the dining room entrance, her eyes darting to my empty chair. For a second, a fleeting moment, I thought she saw me, saw the truth of my spectral presence.

But it was just a trick of the light, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. A recognition of the space I no longer occupied, a space she had so eagerly helped to empty. She left, taking her lies with her, leaving my ghost abandoned in a home that was never truly mine.