Chapter on:A glimpse through the door hole

Blue;

I know I shouldn’t be standing here.

Pressing my fingers against the old wooden door, peeking through the small crack like a small child sneaking a look at something forbidden.

But I can’t help it.

Because tonight is different.

The air feels heavy. My father, "a man who fears nothing, a man who has never hesitated to raise his hand against me" looks… nervous. He sits stiffly, his shoulders tense, his voice low. Not angry. Not commanding. Just 'cautious'

And the reason for that sits right in front of him.

I don’t know who he is.

But I know that he is powerful. A man who makes my father uneasy and, somehow, that alone makes him fascinating.

I study him. The way he leans back in the chair, completely at ease, like he owns everything around him, including the silence. My father keeps talking, his voice barely above a whisper, while Leonard just listens, his expression unreadable.

I can’t hear what they’re saying. But something in me tells me it’s about me.

And yet, I’m distracted.

Not because of fear. Not by the uncertainty of what’s happening. But by him.

The sharp jawline. The quiet confidence. The way his fingers tap against the armrest—slow, calculated, like a man who never rushes because everything waits for him.

I blink and force myself to breathe.

I know I shouldn't be looking after all. Who am I to?, I am Blue Antonio Greg. Daughter of a man who has never loved me. A girl who has spent years being reminded that I was never supposed to exist in a world where my father wanted a son, not a daughter.

A mistake in his eyes.

A burden.

"Blue."

The voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I don’t move.

"Blue."

The second call is sharper. I tore my eyes away from the door, turning toward the hallway.

Mother.

She stands there, her frame small, tired, hesitant, looking at me the way she always does—like she wants to say more, wants to do more but never can.

She swallows hard, and the next words leave her lips like they’re made of stone.

"Go pack your things, you are leaving this house now".

Everything stops.

"Leaving??, to where," I asked her.

I know my father has never liked me, but will he as well sell me off? As a commodity? The realization of this dawns so hard on me that tears start falling from my eyes.