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Valentina’s expression turned cold once more as she looked back at Anya. “We don’t need you anymore. From now on, I’ll make sure my real daughter never suffers again—not even from the presence of a fake daughter like you under our roof.”
She kicked the suitcase toward Anya, the hard edge slamming into her ankle. Anya cried out in pain, stumbling back.
“Take your things and get lost. You’re not part of this family. Don’t force yourself into our lives.”
With that, Valentina went back inside the house with Zara, slammed the door shut and locked it.
Anya rushed to the door and pounded her fists against the cold wood, sobbing. “Mom, please! Don’t do this to me. Where am I supposed to go?”
Snow began to fall harder, soaking her thin home clothes as the icy wind slapped her face. Only an hour ago, she had been the Foxes’ daughter. Now she was just a stranger standing on the street.
She collapsed onto the street, curling into herself as the snow swallowed her cries. Her lips were blue, her body trembling.
Then a shadow fell over her.
She looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “Grandpa…”
James, her grandfather, stood there with sorrow on his face. Without a word, he reached out his hand. She stood shakily and collapsed into his arms, holding him tightly.
“Mom said I’m not your granddaughter. Are you going to leave me too?”
James closed his eyes, holding the back of her head. “Of course not.”
She pulled back slightly, her lips trembling.
“You will always be my granddaughter, Anya. You are still my child. I don’t care what anyone says.”
Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. Her body shook with relief.
“You’re just twenty,” James said softly, removing his shawl and draping it over her shoulders to shield her from the snow. “You still have your whole life ahead of you. It’s going to be alright.”
“Where should I go?” Anya asked, breathless and scared.
“Go to Griffin Kingsley’s house,” he said firmly. “He's been my best friend since childhood. I just spoke to him. He’s agreed to take you in. You’ll be safe there. He’ll take care of you.”
Anya’s tears wouldn’t stop, but she bit her lip hard, trying to hold them back. Her entire world had fallen apart in less than an hour. Her so-called parents had tossed her out like garbage. And now, all she had was a suitcase and a sliver of hope.
“Thank you, Grandpa,” she sniffled.
James tucked a few bills into her hand. “This should keep you going for a few days. That’s all I have for now.”
“I’ll walk. It’s alright.”
Anya tried to hand the money back, but Grandpa gently patted the back of her hand, stopping her.
“Go, Anya. It’s getting late,” he urged. “You should leave quickly.”
Reluctantly, Anya curled her fingers around the bills, clutching them tightly. She bent down, fingers curling around the suitcase handle, and began walking away.
In the stillness of the night, the wheels of her suitcase echoed softly against the pavement. She kept her head down, walking slowly, until a fleet of sleek black BMWs sped past her. The sudden rush of wind tugged at her loose hair, and her eyes lifted briefly, following the taillights disappearing into the dark.
Her gaze flicked toward the cars. In one of the backseats, she caught a glimpse of a man—older, with dark hair and a heavy black mark beneath his eye. His face was hard, dangerous. Their eyes didn’t meet, but something about him made her heart clench.
He didn’t look at her.
She turned away quickly, gripping the handle of her suitcase tighter, her steps picking up pace. She kept walking, unaware that she had just seen her real father.
***