Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband-Chapter 43: Echoes of Guilt

Lyvia sat quietly in the backseat of the car, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The city lights flickered against the window, blurring as the vehicle sped through familiar streets. Yet, her mind wasn’t in the car; it was far away, replaying her encounter with Delphinia.

Her step-sister, she corrected herself. Though they had grown up together, there was always that invisible line drawn between them, one she’d tried to ignore but never could.

Delphinia’s sharp glare and biting words stuck with Lyvia, hitting a nerve she couldn’t ignore. She had wanted to ask more, to know everything—where Delphinia lived now, what she did, if she was happy.

A small part of her worried. Was Delphinia struggling? Was she living somewhere unsafe? Homeless? The thought made her chest ache, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

The car pulled into the driveway of her parents’ house. Lyvia stepped out, and made her way up the steps.

In the living room, her mother, Helena, was perched elegantly on the cream-colored sofa, a magazine in hand. She glanced up as Lyvia entered and smiled warmly.

"Oh, you’re home," Helena said, setting the magazine aside. Her voice was soft and pleasant, but it felt scripted, meant to impress

Lyvia returned the smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, I’m back," she replied. She placed her bag on the entryway table, her movements slow and deliberate.

As she stepped further into the room, her father, Bernard, appeared from the adjacent study. His strong, intimidating frame was muted by the sweater he wore, but his stern face remained the same.

"Oh, you’re back already," he remarked.

"Yeah," Lyvia repeated. She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Her father’s sharp eyes caught the hesitation, and he raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Lyvia glanced at her mother, who was now watching her with mild curiosity, then back at her father. Her throat tightened as she answered cautiously, "It’s about Delphie—"

But before she could finish, Bernard cut her off. "Don’t start with that ungrateful girl again," he said, his expression darkening. "We don’t need to talk about her anymore."

Lyvia flinched slightly at his tone but didn’t look away. "She’s not—" she began, but he interrupted again.

"How dare she stay out there on her own after divorcing Kai Robinson and not come back here where she belongs?" Bernard continued, his voice rising slightly. "It’s her own fault she’s struggling, wherever she is."

Helena chimed in then, her tone much gentler but the sting in her words stayed. "Your father’s right," she said, reaching out to stroke Lyvia’s hair. "Don’t waste your time worrying about Delphinia. No one knows where she is, and frankly, it’s better that way."

Lyvia froze under her mother’s touch, her jaw tightening. She wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but the words caught in her throat. Her father’s anger and her mother’s indifference combined to form a wall she couldn’t climb.

Helena smiled at her, blind to the tension simmering in Lyvia’s eyes. "You’ve always been the good daughter," she said softly. "You don’t need to carry the burden of someone who didn’t appreciate this family."

Lyvia forced a smile, though it felt like a mask slipping into place. "Yeah," she said weakly. "I guess so."

Her father grunted, satisfied with her response, and returned to his study without another word. Helena patted her arm lightly before picking up her magazine again, the conversation already forgotten in her mind.

Lyvia stood there for a moment, her body frozen as a hollow feeling spread through her chest. Then, without another word, she turned and headed up the staircase to her room.

When she reached her bedroom, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Lyvia crossed the room and sank onto her bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts racing.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Delphinia. Her sister—no, her step-sister—looked so different. Stronger, somehow, but also distant, like a part of her had been hardened by years of neglect. Lyvia thought about the things Delphinia had said, her voice sharp and filled with pain.

She thought about the day Delphinia left after the divorce. Lyvia had wanted to reach out, to call her, to ask if she was okay. But she hadn’t.

Their father had always been harsh with Delphinia, and her mother had never treated her like family. Lyvia knew that. She’d seen it, felt it, but she’d done nothing to stop it. And now, sitting alone in her room, the guilt felt unbearable.

She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as tears pricked at her eyes. She hated that she felt so powerless, so small. She wanted to do something, anything, to fix things, Yet the gap between them felt too wide to bridge.

Where are you living now, Delphie? she wondered silently. What are you doing? Are you really okay? Or are you just pretending to be strong?

The memory of Delphinia’s guarded smile flashed in her mind, and Lyvia’s chest ached. She wanted to believe that her sister was happy, that she’d found a new life far away from the pain of their family. But a small, selfish part of her wished Delphinia would come back, if only so Lyvia could try to make things right.

She closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop. But they slipped out anyway, rolling down her cheeks and soaking into the pillow.

Eventually, she sat up and wiped her face with trembling hands. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, its glowing numbers taunting her with how much time she’d spent lost in her thoughts.

Lyvia sighed and stood, walking over to the window. She pushed the curtains aside and stared out into the night.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered, the words meant for Delphinia even though she wasn’t there to hear them.