To Emily, it felt like a ghostly echo from another life—a story she had no desire to reopen.
She took a sharp step back, hoping the physical distance could shield her from the encroaching past.
Her gaze was flinty, a turbulent storm of resentment and denial.
"No… it's impossible." Her breath hitched. "You… you are Eloise?"
The name struck the old woman like a physical blow. Its weight was far heavier than Emily could ever comprehend.
Yet, the old woman merely nodded, accepting the agony.
"Yes… it is I. I am your mother."
A sharp, mirthless laugh escaped Emily's lips. She crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of cold defiance.
"Well then," she sneered, "what is it you want?"
"The Duchess promised me a new life if I came here. I never imagined I'd encounter your ghost."
She paused, her eyes like ice.
"So, speak your piece—I have no reason to linger a moment longer."
Eloise flinched. But what wounded her more than the words was the hollow vacancy in the girl's face.
