“Ste… is that really my Ste?” The voice was frail but unmistakable. Eleanor, Ste’s grandmother, leaning heavily on her cane, looked decades older than she had three years ago. With each unsteady step, she called Ste’s name like a prayer.

Ste had sworn she wouldn’t break-not here, not in front of them. But at the sound of that voice, the dam inside her shattered. Tears spilled over as she stumbled forward, her legs giving way. “Grandma,” she choked out, “it’s me. I’m home.”

Some guests wiped away tears, unable to ignore the sight of Ste-once so vibrant-now curled on the floor. The long sleeves concealed her scarred arms, but nothing could disguise herbored movements.

Her stiff, uneven gait betrayed years of confinement, her legs bearing permanent damage from being unable to stand properly.

Eleanor tossed her cane aside. Andrew rushed to steady her, but she batted him away, reaching shaking hands toward Ste. “Oh, my sweetheart, your arms! What happened to you?”

Fiona sniffled nearby. “Those monsters beat her,” she offered weakly.

Eleanor’s face twisted. She knew better. Ste hadn’t just been sent to Dusty Pines-she’d been sold there, abandoned. Even escaping hadn’t spared her the horrors. “How could they do this to you?” She tugged Ste’s sleeve gently. “Get up, darling. Let me look at you.”

Ste tried. But her legs screamed in protest, muscles seizing as if they’d forgotten how to hold her.

To the crowd, it might’ve looked like defiance. Max certainly thought so. His patience snapped. He strode forward and kicked her calf—not hard, but enough to make her gasp. “Enough. You’re also a Hayes. Stop humiliating us.”

Eleanor was about to stop him, but Ste’s wig chose that moment to slip. It tumbled to the floor, revealing Ste’s shaved head to the gasping room. A child nearby giggled before being hushed.

Ste didn’t scramble to cover herself. She just knelt there, exposed, while Max stared at the wig in his hand like it held answers. “What the hell?” His voice cracked. “Where’s your hair?”

Ste tried to push herself up-once, twice-but her body wouldn’t obey. Like a puppet with its strings cut, she slumped back each time.

She exhaled, detached, as if recounting someone else’s tragedy. “It turned grey. The cops helped me see a doctor. He said shaving it might let it grow back blonde. They gave me the wig so I wouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s nice, right?”

Eleanor hadn’t cried in years. But seeing Ste like this, her granddaughter who’d once treasured her glossy blonde hair like a crown, the tears came fast and hot. “Someone help her up,” she ordered, voice thick. “And put that damn wig back on her.”

Ste’s voice was barely a whisper, her face carefully nk. “Grandma, I can’t hold on anymore. Let me lie down. I’ve been standing too long, and everything hurts.”

Anyone else might’ve missed it, but Eleanor knew she was in agony.

Max, though, wasn’t buying it. Guilt twisted into irritation. “Grandma’s giving you an out. Take it,” he snapped, grabbing her arm. “Get up. You’re making it look like we’re torturing you.”

Eleanor moved faster than anyone expected. She swung her cane with surprising force, cracking it against Max’s shin. “You brute,” she roared. “She’s your sister. How could you do this to her?”

Max recoiled but didn’t fight back. Not because he couldn’t-but because Eleanor’s health had been failing since Ste disappeared. One wrong move, and he’d be responsible for worse.

Exhausted, Eleanor sank to the floor beside Ste, tears still streaming. “Fine. If you won’t get up, neither will I. Let’s sit here and talk.

Ste shifted slightly, settling into the sideways lean that had been her onlyfort for years. Eleanor studied her face- pale, gaunt, etched with lines deeper than her own. This wasn’t the vibrant girl she remembered.

“You’re home now,” Eleanor murmured, stroking Ste’s cheek. “That’s all that matters. Stay with me. We’ll get you the best doctors. Whatever it takes to make you whole again.”

The contrast was jarring. Once, Ste had been radiant-bright-eyed, effortlessly graceful, her dancer’s limbs the envy of every girl at a dance academy. Even when the family doted on Anna, Ste had just smiled and moved on. Now, she looked decades older, her body broken.

“Max,” Eleanor barked, “call Dr. Dewitt. Now. Money is no object.”

Fiona nodded fervently. “Yes, just call him over. We’ll treat Ste whatever the cost.”

Max was already reaching for his phone. He might think Ste was melodramatic, but the wounds on her arms were real.

Ste shot Anna a look, her voice tight. “Sorry, but looking like this, I can’t be your maid of honor. You should ask someone else.”

Eleanor’s expression darkened. “Anna, do you really expect Ste to stand by your side after everything?”

Anna had always been intimidated by Eleanor. She knew Eleanor favored Ste. No matter how hard Anna had tried to win Eleanor over in the three years Ste was gone, nothing had worked.

Now, under Eleanor’s sharp re, Anna stammered, “I-I just wanted her to be by my side.”

“By your side?” Eleanor scoffed. “For what? Do you have any idea what she’s going through? Or are you just twisting the knife?”

Humiliated in front of everyone, Ste paled, tears welling in her eyes before she crumpled to the floor in distress.