The taxi tires crunched against the gravel as it pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Hines Estate in Long Island.

Aretha handed the driver a bill, stepped out into the freezing air, and completely ignored the shocked look on the security guard's face.

She walked up the grand steps and pushed open the heavy, double mahogany doors.

The blinding light from the massive crystal chandelier poured over her.

Inside the spacious, classical foyer, the after-party for Kelli's birthday was in full swing. The air smelled of expensive perfume and roasted duck. Women in haute couture gowns laughed while men in tailored suits held crystal glasses of bourbon.

Aretha stepped inside. She was wearing a dark, wind-chilled trench coat that looked entirely out of place among the glittering evening wear.

For half a second, the entire hall went dead silent.

Meredith Hines, Aretha's biological mother, was standing near the grand staircase talking to a group of socialites. She turned her head.

When she saw her actual daughter standing there like an uninvited ghost, the polite smile on Meredith's face instantly vanished.

Meredith set her champagne flute down on a passing tray. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she marched over.

She didn't ask why Aretha looked so pale. She didn't ask if she was okay.

"Where are your manners?" Meredith hissed, her voice a harsh, reprimanding whip. "You show up late, dressed like a vagrant, and embarrass this family in front of our guests?"

Aretha stood perfectly still. Her eyes were as calm as a stagnant pool of water. She watched her mother perform her usual routine of absolute favoritism.

She didn't lower her head. She didn't apologize.

Aretha straightened her spine, looking Meredith dead in the eye. "Whose manners are we talking about, Mother?" she asked, her voice chillingly flat. "Yours, or the ones you made up for me?"

The unprecedented arrogance in Aretha's tone completely shattered Meredith's control.

Meredith raised her hand. On her middle finger sat a massive, square-cut emerald ring.

She swung her arm and slapped Aretha hard across the face.

The sharp, cracking sound echoed through the cavernous hall. The music seemed to fade. The guests stopped talking, their eyes locking onto the drama unfolding by the door.

The force of the blow snapped Aretha's head to the side. The heavy emerald ring scraped violently against the corner of her mouth.

A warm bead of blood immediately welled up, sliding down her chin.

The sudden, violent spike in her adrenaline triggered a massive cramp deep in her stomach. It felt like her organs were being wrung out like a wet towel.

Her vision went entirely black for a second. Her body swayed.

Aretha bit down on her back teeth so hard her jaw popped. She forced the metallic taste of blood back down her throat and planted her feet firmly on the marble floor. She refused to bend.

"Mom!"

Kelli ran out from the crowd. She was wearing a custom-made white tulle dress, looking like a terrified, innocent dove. She hiked up her skirt and rushed over.

Kelli grabbed Meredith's arm, her eyes already brimming with fake tears. "Mom, please don't be mad," she begged, her voice trembling.

Kelli turned to Aretha, her expression the picture of guilt. "Ari, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have expected you to come celebrate my birthday. I know you hate me."

The guests immediately began whispering. The looks they shot Aretha were filled with pure disgust.

Meredith grabbed Kelli's hands, rubbing them soothingly. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. You did nothing wrong," Meredith cooed, treating the adopted daughter like a fragile piece of glass.

Aretha slowly raised the back of her hand. She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her movements agonizingly deliberate.

She looked at Meredith. Then she looked at Kelli.

Knowing she only had ninety days left to live made this entire soap opera look incredibly, pathetically hilarious.

Aretha started to laugh.

It wasn't a loud laugh, but it was filled with so much self-mockery and absolute contempt that it made the hairs on the back of Meredith's neck stand up.

"Are you insane?" Meredith demanded, her voice shrill.

Aretha stopped laughing. Her eyes locked onto Meredith, sharp and unyielding.

"From this second on," Aretha said, enunciating every single word, "I will never ask you for a drop of a mother's love ever again."

She didn't wait to see the shock register on Meredith's face.

Aretha bypassed the two women entirely, walking straight toward the grand spiral staircase that led to the second floor.

Kelli watched Aretha's retreating back. A flash of vicious calculation crossed her teary eyes.

Kelli let go of Meredith's hand. "I'll go get an ice pack for her," she whispered sweetly, before quietly slipping away and following Aretha up the stairs.

Aretha heard the soft, deliberate footsteps trailing behind her.

She didn't care. She kept walking.

She was heading to the cramped guest room at the end of the hall to grab the last of her personal belongings. The real storm was just about to begin.

The heavy carpet of the second-floor landing muffled Aretha's footsteps as she reached the blind spot behind the antique grandfather clock.

Kelli hurried up the last few steps, cutting Aretha off and blocking her path to the bedroom hallway.

Kelli glanced around. Confirming there were no guests or servants in sight, the innocent, teary-eyed mask melted off her face.

A cruel, mocking smirk twisted Kelli's lips.

Kelli stepped into Aretha's personal space, dropping her voice to a venomous whisper. "You really are pathetic, Ari. A useless replacement nobody wants. Even your own biological parents are disgusted by you."

Kelli tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "And Anders? His heart has always been with me. You're just a placeholder taking up space."

Aretha stared at the twisted jealousy on Kelli's face.

Her heart didn't race. Her chest didn't tighten. She felt absolutely nothing. It was just sad to watch.

Aretha didn't scream. She didn't raise her hand to slap her back. She just looked at Kelli like she was looking at a piece of trash on the sidewalk.

"Move," Aretha said, her voice dead flat. She stepped to the side, trying to walk around her.

Kelli saw that her taunts weren't working. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement near the front doors downstairs.

Kelli's strategy shifted instantly.

She let out a piercing, dramatic scream. She threw her hands up in the air, flailing wildly as if she had just been violently shoved in the chest.

Without a second of hesitation, Kelli threw her body backward.

She tumbled down the carpeted mahogany stairs, rolling over and over until she hit the landing.

The heavy front doors of the estate swung open at that exact moment.

Anders Bartlett and Cornelius Hines, Aretha's father, walked into the foyer.

They both looked up just in time to see Kelli rolling down the stairs like a broken doll, while Aretha stood at the top of the landing, looking down, her hands still resting at her sides.

"Kelli!" Anders roared. His eyes went wide with panic.

He sprinted across the foyer and took the stairs two at a time.

He caught Kelli near the bottom, scooping her limp body into his arms. Then, he looked up at Aretha.

The pure, unfiltered hatred in Anders's eyes made Aretha's stomach churn.

Anders stormed up the remaining steps. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask for her side of the story.

He grabbed the lapels of Aretha's trench coat and shoved her backward with all his strength.

Aretha's feet slipped on the marble floor. She flew backward, her spine slamming brutally against the wall.

The impact sent a shockwave of agony straight into her failing stomach. Cold sweat instantly broke out across her forehead. Her fingers curled inward, scraping against the wall as she slid down to the floor.

Anders turned his back on her, rushing down to pick up Kelli, who was now pretending to be unconscious. He held Kelli like she was his entire world, treating Aretha like a convicted murderer.

Cornelius marched up the stairs. The patriarch of the family stood over Aretha, looking down at his biological daughter with eyes made of ice.

"You are a disgrace to this family," Cornelius spat. "Using such vicious tactics against your sister when you know she suffers from depression."

Cornelius crossed his arms, delivering his ultimate threat. "I am freezing your trust fund immediately. You will get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you will not see another dime."

The words trust fund echoed in Aretha's ears.

She swallowed hard, fighting the nausea and the blinding pain in her gut. She placed her hand flat against the wall and pushed herself up. Her legs shook, but she forced herself to stand tall.

She raised her head. Her pale face held absolutely no fear. Only the cold, hard resolve of someone who had already accepted death.

Aretha wiped a fresh streak of blood from her chin. She looked from Anders to Cornelius.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs, and spoke loud enough for every single guest in the foyer below to hear.

"From this exact second," Aretha declared, her voice ringing clear and steady, "I sever all blood and legal ties with the Hines family."

Before the shock could even register on Cornelius's face, she dropped the final bomb.

"And I voluntarily renounce every single cent of my inheritance and the family trust fund."

The entire grand hall plunged into a deafening, graveyard silence.

Even Kelli, who was pretending to be passed out in Anders's arms, twitched and opened her eyes a fraction in pure shock.

Cornelius's face turned a violent shade of purple. He had used money to control her for six years. He never imagined she would be the one to flip the board.

Anders's pupils dilated. His arms stiffened around Kelli. He stared at the woman standing at the top of the stairs, feeling like he was looking at a complete stranger.

Aretha didn't give a damn about their shock. She turned around and walked down the hallway toward her room.

She had one last thing to grab. One last piece of paper to end this absolute nightmare.

Aretha walked into the cramped guest room. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out any trace of sunlight.

She opened the bottom drawer of the small dresser, reached all the way to the back, and pulled out a thick, manila envelope.

Her fingers gripped the paper tightly. She turned around and walked out of the room. Her steps were slow, heavy with exhaustion, but completely unwavering.

She walked back to the top of the stairs and began her descent.

The silence in the foyer was suffocating. Every eye in the room was glued to her as she walked down step by step.

Cornelius let out a harsh scoff, his patriarchal pride refusing to bend. He thought this was just an extreme negotiation tactic. A desperate cry for attention.

Anders had handed Kelli off to the family doctor and a few maids. He stood dead center in the foyer, his face dark and stormy.

As Aretha reached the bottom step, Anders let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"You think you can survive out there without this family?" Anders sneered. "With your spending habits, Aretha? You won't even be able to afford a cup of Starbucks by tomorrow morning."

Aretha stopped exactly one step away from him. She listened to his arrogant, condescending humiliation without a single change in her expression.

She didn't argue. She didn't yell.

She simply raised her hand and whipped the manila envelope directly at Anders's handsome face.

The envelope burst open mid-air. Pages of thick, legal document paper rained down like snow, slapping against Anders's chest before scattering across the marble floor.

Anders flinched, taking a half-step back. His eyes dropped to the papers at his feet.

Printed in bold, black ink at the very top of the first page were two words: Divorce Agreement.

And at the bottom of the page, on the signature line, the name Aretha Hines was already signed in crisp, black ink.

Anders's lungs forgot how to pull in air. His chest seized. He snapped his head up, staring at Aretha in absolute disbelief.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd of guests. No one could believe that Aretha-the woman who had worshipped the ground Anders walked on-was the one demanding a divorce.

Anders clenched his jaw, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and panic. "What the hell is this? Are you doing this to get a bigger settlement?"

Aretha slowly looked around the room. She looked at the massive floral arrangements, the expensive balloons, and the giant banner that read Happy Birthday Kelli.

"You threw a massive party for her," Aretha said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the room like a razor blade. "And not a single one of you remembered that today is my actual birthday."

The words hit Meredith and Cornelius like a physical blow. Both of their faces froze in sudden, horrifying realization.

Kelli, leaning against a maid on the sofa, looked panicked. If the media got hold of this, her sweet, innocent image would be ruined.

Anders's Adam's apple bobbed. He opened his mouth to say something, to defend himself against the sudden, crushing weight of guilt, but his throat felt glued shut.

Aretha didn't give him the chance to speak.

She pointed at the papers on the floor. "I am walking away with nothing," she told Anders, her voice devoid of any warmth. "I don't want a single cent of your money."

Walking away with nothing.

Those words completely shattered Anders's delusion that she was just playing hard to get.

Aretha turned on her heel. She pulled the collar of her thin trench coat tighter around her neck and walked straight toward the massive front doors.

Meredith finally snapped out of her shock. "If you walk out that door, don't you ever think about coming back!" she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.

Aretha didn't pause. She didn't look back.

She pushed the heavy mahogany doors open.

The freezing, biting wind of Long Island howled into the foyer, whipping her dark hair around her face and blowing away the last traces of her existence in this house.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind her with a deafening thud, locking the hypocrisy and the shock inside.

Anders stood frozen in the center of the room. He looked down at the signed divorce papers at his feet. A sudden, sharp pain pierced his chest, completely unexplainable and terrifying.

Outside, Aretha walked alone down the long, tree-lined driveway toward the main highway.

The pain in her stomach was so severe she could barely stand straight, but as the cold wind hit her face, a genuine, completely free smile broke across her lips.