"I don't need this family, Mr. Jenson." Tilda's eyes flashed cold as she drew in a slow, steady breath. Finally, she said the words she'd swallowed for years. "You treat Kyla like she's the center of your universe—always afraid someone might take her place. Well, guess what? From this moment on, I'm done. I'm cutting all ties with this family. I'm not your daughter anymore." Without another word, she turned and walked upstairs, ignoring every shocked face in the room. The moment the words left her lips, an unexpected calm washed over her. That last fragile thread binding her to them had finally snapped—and she could finally breathe. When she came back down, the living room was dead silent. The Jensons just stood there, too stunned to move. Tilda had a small suitcase in one hand and a plain backpack slung over her shoulder. She didn't even look at them as she headed for the door. "Wait!" Russell snapped out of it. "Tilda, are you serious?" "Dead serious, Mr. Jenson. Isn't this what you all wanted?" A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she dragged her suitcase out the front door without a single glance back. Inside, Kyla's heart was practically singing. She couldn't believe Tilda had just walked away—handing over her place as the real heiress without even putting up a fight. It was almost too good to be true. Still, she had to keep up the act. "Wade, you have to stop her!" Kyla cried, grabbing his arm. "If anyone should be leaving, it's me, not her! She's only upset because of the misunderstanding. Please—go talk to her!" Wade didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, conflict flickering in his eyes. Sure, part of him had wished Tilda would just disappear so Kyla wouldn't get hurt or overshadowed. But blood is blood. Whether he liked it or not, Tilda was his sister. And deep down, he knew—they were the ones who'd pushed her to this point. Their blind faith in Kyla, their constant suspicion of Tilda… that's what broke her. For the first time, guilt crept in. Kyla caught that tiny flicker of hesitation, and panic jolted through her. No—she couldn't let that happen. If they started to care about Tilda again, if they started to doubt her… she might lose everything. "Fine! Go ahead and leave!" Russell suddenly roared. "Walk out that door and don't you ever come back! As far as I'm concerned, I have no daughter!" Did she really think she could threaten him? That she could just storm off and he'd beg her to stay? Please. He'd seen every trick in the book. She'd come crawling back soon enough. Nobody in their right mind walked away from a life of privilege like this. "Enough, Russell!" Blair snapped, her voice like a whip.Instantly, his tone softened. Everyone could see how fast he backed down—it was no secret Blair was the only one he was ever afraid of. "Mom, please," Kyla said quickly, switching to a softer tone, "go after her. Talk to her. Maybe she'll listen to you." "I'll handle it," Blair said, striding toward the door. "Russell, Wade—stay here with Kyla." "This is all my fault!" Kyla cried, collapsing to the floor as tears streamed down her face. "If I hadn't cried and made everyone misunderstand Tilda, none of this would've happened! I'm such a burden—I should be the one leaving!" Wade's chest tightened. Watching her cry tore him apart. "Kyla, no," he said quickly. "This isn't your fault. You were upset—anyone would've been. We're the ones who should've been more careful. We're the ones who made the mess." Russell let out a heavy sigh. "Wade, take Kyla upstairs. I'll handle the rest." ... Blair caught up to Tilda just as she was stepping off the porch."Tilda, wait!" Tilda stopped and turned slowly. Her voice was calm, almost detached. “Mrs. Jenson, what is it?" "I know you're hurt. I know you think we treated you unfairly," Blair said, her voice trembling. "If an apology is what you want, then you'll have it. Just… don't talk about cutting ties. Things aren't as bad as you think. You're my daughter," she continued, her eyes glistening. "I carried you for nine months. You're part of me. How could we ever not want you?" She meant every word. She did care for Tilda—she always had. But with Kyla in the picture, it had never been simple. In her heart, she loved them both—just in different ways. Tilda studied her: elegant, tearful, heartbreak written across her face. In another life, Tilda might've softened. Blair's words would've broken through, just like before. Because once upon a time, every gentle word, every show of affection from her had been enough to make Tilda stay—foolishly hoping things might change.But that girl had died—literally. In a fire, betrayed and left to burn. And this time, she wasn't going to fall for it again. "I don't need it," Tilda said firmly. "And it's too much for me. Mrs. Jenson, this is my choice. Don't carry it like it's yours. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'll be fine—actually, I'll be better than fine." "Tilda…" Blair reached out, desperate to grab her arm. But Tilda stepped back. "Goodbye, Mrs. Jenson. Let's end this with some dignity. You already have the daughter you've always wanted. As for me—I'll find my own way." If she was going to walk away, she'd make it clean. No loose ends. Ignoring Blair's voice behind her, she gripped the handle of her suitcase and walked down the driveway— the same way she'd walked in that first day.Back then, she'd come with nerves, hope, and a fragile little spark of happiness. Now, her heart was calm. No grief. No shock. Just clarity. Once you truly decide to let go, that first step isn't nearly as hard as you think. That family had given her nothing but scars—and there was nothing left to fix. Blair stood there, frozen, watching her daughter disappear down the hill, completely at a loss. Just yesterday, Tilda had looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes and whispered, "Mom." So careful. So afraid to overstep. And now, the girl walking away didn't even seem like the same person. Tilda rolled her suitcase down the slope and flagged a taxi. The driver had the radio on, and just as she climbed in, a news update about the Jenson family scandal came crackling through the speakers. "Where to, miss?" the driver asked."A nearby motel," she said. "One that doesn't need ID." She didn't have a home to go back to. Not yet. She barely had any money left, either. First things first—she needed cash. Without it, she wouldn't even be able to buy food.