f my past life' s misery. My father, Mr. Hayes, was completely enchanted by th

the dinner table, completely ignoring my presence. "Bethany

elmed but gracious maiden. Her eyes would glisten with f

er 'prophetic' gift. One morning, she clutched her hea

m is coming. A freighter... it will be delayed. It carries the component

hushed with excitement. He was placing a bet, using his daughter

athe. I walked out into the garden, the cool morning air a small relief. My foresight was a constant, low hum in the back of my mind. I knew the freighter Bethany mention

e, had already spread like wildfire. My phone buzzed with notifications, arti

It must be h

er when they could have a r

sperate. Probably t

y set, and I was the vil

that the paparazzi, conveniently tipped off, were always there to capture. He was publicly courting the "true prophetess," a romantic gesture th

. My father summoned me to his study. The room was dark, f

. "I have seen the news. I have heard the

thing," I said

wed an article with a picture of a teary-eyed Bethany, Liam' s arm prote

, your public rejection... it makes us look weak. People are saying you'

rds feeling useless before they even

ter. Bethany has a gift. A real, tangible gift that is elevating this family to new heights. You have

me. I had cried, I had begged him to see me, to believe in me. Now, I just felt a profound, ch

t way, Father," I said,

on. He wanted tears. He wanted me to bre

atements. You will do nothing to further tarnish this family' s name while w

the study, his angry, frustrated b

stunning success. She was on the cover of a business magazine, hailed as 'The Oracle of Wall Street.' The lie was growing bigger, stronger, and more dan