That night, Valerie could not sleep.
She lay awake on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her swollen cheek throbbing softly with every heartbeat. The sting from Caroline's slap had faded slightly, but the humiliation remained, burning deep inside her chest.
Dinner had been unbearable.
Her father had sat at the head of the table as usual, quietly eating his food. His eyes had briefly passed over her bruised face, yet he said nothing. Not a word. Not even a question.
To him, it seemed perfectly normal that his fifteen-year-old daughter had a swollen eye.
Caroline and Betsy chatted and laughed through the meal, occasionally making sharp comments that made Valerie shrink deeper into her chair. Mr. Samson barely reacted. He simply nodded from time to time, lost somewhere in his own thoughts.
Valerie barely touched her food.
Now, hours later, she still could not close her eyes.
How did everything change so much?
She remembered the afternoon her father had introduced Caroline and Betsy. Back then, she had truly believed her lonely life was finally about to improve. After years of silence and isolation, she thought she would finally have a family again.
Instead, she had become something else entirely.
A maid.
A target.
A stranger in her own home.
The following days only confirmed her fears.
Her father grew even more distant. He spent most of his time locked away in his office or leaving early for work and returning late at night. When they did cross paths in the hallway, their conversations were brief and awkward.
Sometimes he barely looked at her.
Sometimes Valerie wondered if he still loved her at all.
She never asked.
Deep down, she feared the answer.
One quiet afternoon, Valerie was sitting in the living room corner, reading silently while Caroline and Betsy relaxed on the sofa. The television murmured softly in the background.
"Valerie," Caroline suddenly called, her tone sharp.
"Yes…?"
"Bring me a glass of water."
Valerie immediately stood and hurried to the kitchen. Moments later, she returned carefully carrying a glass of water on a small tray.
Before she could reach the table, Caroline abruptly stretched out her arm and knocked the tray.
The glass slipped from Valerie's hands.
It shattered against the floor.
Water splashed across the luxurious Persian rug beneath their feet.
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Then Caroline jumped up as if something terrible had happened.
"What is your problem, you idiot?" she snapped, her voice dripping with anger. "Can your late miserable mother afford this type of Persian rug when she was alive?"
The words struck Valerie harder than any slap.
Her body froze as if someone had poured ice-cold water over her.
But what shocked her the most wasn't Caroline's cruelty.
It was her father.
Mr. Samson had been sitting in the same room the entire time.
And he said nothing.
He didn't defend her.
He didn't question Caroline.
He didn't even look in Valerie's direction.
That moment settled something painful and permanent inside Valerie's heart.
Her father no longer cared.
From that day onward, things grew worse.
The small insults turned into daily humiliation. Caroline gave her endless chores, while Betsy mocked her whenever she could. Sometimes the punishment came in harsh words.
Sometimes it came in blows.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
And then one morning, everything changed again.
Mr. Samson went to bed one night like any other.
But he never woke up.
The house erupted into chaos the following morning when the servants discovered him unresponsive in his room. Doctors were called immediately, but it was already too late.
They searched for an explanation, but none could be found.
The official report listed the cause as sudden death.
Caroline insisted that he had complained about a headache the night before.
No one questioned it.
No one investigated further.
And just like that, Valerie became an orphan.
The funeral came quickly.
Relatives, business partners, and acquaintances filled the mansion, offering their condolences. Valerie stood quietly beside the coffin, dressed in black, feeling as though the world around her had turned distant and unreal.
Despite everything that had happened between them, he was still her father.
Now he was gone.
The night after the burial was the hardest.
The house felt colder than ever before. Every hallway echoed with silence.
Valerie sat alone in her room, her eyes swollen from crying.
She felt abandoned.
Lost.
Completely alone.
But the worst blow had not yet come.
A week later, the family gathered in the study for the reading of Mr. Samson's will.
Valerie sat quietly in a corner chair as the lawyer unfolded the document.
Caroline sat confidently beside Betsy, both of them watching with barely hidden anticipation.
The lawyer cleared his throat and began reading.
Property.
Businesses.
Investments.
Every single asset Mr. Samson owned.
All of it was left to Caroline and Betsy.
Valerie's name was never mentioned.
Not once.
At first, she thought she had heard wrong.
Her ears rang as the words echoed around the room.
She waited… expecting the lawyer to continue.
But he simply folded the document.
"That concludes the will."
The room fell silent.
Caroline smiled faintly.
Betsy leaned back in her chair, looking extremely pleased.
Valerie sat there, frozen.
Her mind struggled to process what had just happened.
She had lost her father.
And now she had lost everything else.
She felt numb.
Dazed.
As though the ground beneath her feet had disappeared.
She didn't move.
She couldn't.
The life she had once known was gone.
And something deep inside her told her the nightmare was only just beginning.