Chapter 5: The Liberty Initiative

Savannah glanced at me. "With all these changes, Evelyn, you don’t mind?"

Her tone was light, but her eyes were sharp, searching.

I smiled, acting considerate: "If it’s your room, you can do whatever you want."

I kept my voice steady, my face calm. Let her think I was unbothered.

"It’s getting late. Lucas, you should go so you don’t keep Savannah up."

I nodded toward the door, hoping he’d take the hint.

Lucas nodded, called for the crew to get to work.

He clapped his hands, barking orders. The staff jumped to attention, eager to please.

Savannah, though, stared at me, surprised: "Why didn’t you stop us?"

She tilted her head, searching my face.

Her gaze was intense, as if she was trying to read my mind.

"Evelyn Harper, you’re not what I expected."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. I met her gaze, unflinching.

I frowned: "Then what did you expect?"

My voice was cool, even. I refused to give her the satisfaction of rattling me.

She didn’t answer, just went to Lucas’s side.

She slipped her arm through his, her smile bright and easy.

"Lucas, the flowers in this garden are too dainty. I don’t like them."

She wrinkled her nose, glancing at the beds of roses and lilies Mom and I planted together.

"Let’s plant trumpet vines—climbing high, bold, wild."

She grinned, her eyes dancing. Lucas nodded, caught up in her enthusiasm.

"You liked trumpet vines as a kid, right?"

She did it on purpose.

The realization hit me like a slap. She was staking her claim, one flower at a time.

I clenched my fists, watching them trample the garden Mom and I cared for.

The sound of shovels biting into the earth echoed in my ears. I bit my lip, tasting blood.

Finally, Lucas realized I was still there.

He turned, awkward, his face flushed with guilt.

He came over, awkward: "Sis, since Dad let Savannah stay, we can’t make her move now."

He shuffled his feet, avoiding my gaze.

"Besides, your Sunroom’s pretty nice too."

He tried to sound upbeat, as if that would make it better.

"Of course."

I smiled, even agreeing: "Don’t worry about me, I’m fine in the Sunroom."

I forced the words out, my voice steady. I would not let them see me cry.

Lucas sighed in relief.

He relaxed, his shoulders dropping. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small gold card.

He pulled out a gold library card. My heart skipped.

He held it out to me, his smile tentative. "I know you’re upset. Didn’t you always want this card? Today it’s yours."

He finally remembered he was supposed to help me.

It was a small gesture, but it meant something. I took it, my fingers brushing his.

That card let you into any library in town.

It was a golden ticket, a key to worlds I’d only dreamed of.

I kept my excitement hidden. Just nodded, cool as ever.

I tucked it into my pocket, my face composed. Inside, my heart raced.

I was always smart, quick to learn.

Mom said I was a natural, always asking questions, always hungry for more.

Mom went against everyone’s advice, hiring tutors for me.

She fought the school board, the neighbors, even Dad. She wanted me to have every opportunity.

But by the time I was ten, no one would teach me anymore.

The tutors quit, one by one, claiming I was "too much." I knew better. They were scared of what I could become.

Because girls were supposed to stick to home ec. Not academics.

Home ec was mandatory, while the boys got to take shop and advanced math. It wasn’t fair, but that’s how it was.

Even rich girls were taught that running a household was the highest goal.

Mom said there are plenty of great women, but society keeps them down.

She told me stories of women who changed the world, who fought for their place. I clung to those stories, hoping I could be one of them.

But why?

Why can men go to college, run for office, run companies, and we’re supposed to just settle for being called "good wives"?

I asked her once, my voice trembling with anger. She just smiled, brushing the hair from my face.

Mom held my hand and wrote the word "fate."

She traced the letters on my palm, her touch gentle.

"Fate is written, but people can change it."

She looked me in the eyes, her voice fierce. "Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Evelyn, remember: the world is wide, and you can go anywhere."

Her words echoed—part promise, part challenge.

"Even if it’s hard, you have to try."

She squeezed my hand, her grip strong. "Promise me you’ll never give up."

Being born a girl isn’t my fault. If I like something, I shouldn’t give it up just because I’m a girl.

I repeated the words to myself, over and over, until they felt like armor.

And with that card, I could finally read the books I’d always wanted.

I ran my fingers over the embossed letters, a smile tugging at my lips. It was freedom, in a way.

But as I buried myself in study, the story wouldn’t let me go.

No matter how hard I tried, the plot kept creeping in, pulling me back.

A few days later, an invitation to the Spring Gala landed on my desk.

The envelope was thick, the handwriting elegant. My stomach twisted as I read my name.

In the story, this is where Savannah shines, and my downfall starts.

I remembered Mom’s warnings, the way her voice trembled when she described this moment.

She’d write a poem about a wounded swan, too broken to fly. Everyone would eat it up.

I could see it—the way the crowd would lean in, captivated by her words.

Then they’d bring up how I refused to give up my room.

The whispers would start, growing louder with each retelling. I’d be painted as the villain, again.

Then everyone would turn on me, tearing me down.

Their words would sting, sharper than any slap. I’d be left standing alone, exposed and humiliated.

Of course I refused to accept it.

I argued, my voice shaking with anger. But it only made things worse.

But my anger only made it worse, confirming that Savannah, as a guest, was being mistreated by me.

The more I fought, the more they dug in, convinced I was the problem.

The more I argued, the more they criticized.

Their voices grew louder, more vicious. I felt myself shrinking, powerless to stop it.

The nasty words drove me crazy.

They echoed in my head, long after the party ended. I couldn’t escape them.

When I came to, people were screaming.

I blinked, confused, the world spinning around me. Someone was shouting my name.

I don’t know how, but I’d pushed Savannah into the pond.

The memory was hazy, like a bad dream. I saw her flailing, water splashing, the crowd gasping.

Lucas saw from afar and slapped me.

His hand was cold. The sting lingered. I tasted blood, my ears ringing.

My cousin, Carter Williams, who was supposed to marry me, even jumped in to save her.

He waded into the water, pulling Savannah to safety. The crowd cheered, and I was left standing alone, soaked and shivering.

In front of everyone, I was marked as the mean girl who bullied a war hero’s daughter.

The whispers turned to shouts, and my reputation crumbled before my eyes.

After the Spring Gala, my reputation was trashed.

No one would look me in the eye. The invitations stopped coming. I was a pariah, overnight.

Dad, the "just and fair" councilman, cut me off—literally and figuratively.

He changed the locks on my bank account, canceled my phone. I was invisible, a ghost in my own home.

Lucas forced me to kneel before Savannah, saying I couldn’t get up without her forgiveness.

I knelt on the cold tile, my knees aching. Savannah stood above me, silent, her eyes unreadable.

I knelt until my legs were ruined, aching every time it rained.

The pain became a part of me, a constant reminder of my place.

The Williams family came in person to break off the engagement.

They arrived in matching suits, their faces grim. Carter wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Carter, who always said he’d marry me, paid the local theater to put on a play mocking me, running for three months.

The posters were everywhere—my name, my story, twisted for laughs. I stopped leaving the house altogether.

…

After that, I can’t bear to remember.

The memories blur together—pain, shame, regret. I tried to forget, but the scars remained.

This year, I had to avoid the Spring Gala.

I hid in my room, the curtains drawn. I watched the shadows crawl across the walls, waiting for it to be over.

I stayed out in the wind all night, tried to cool off with cold water, and finally got sick.

The fever came fast, burning me up from the inside. I shivered under the covers, sweat soaking my sheets.

While I burned with fever, I heard Savannah’s voice.

She stood in the doorway, her voice low. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep.

"So she really is sick?"

She sounded surprised, almost disappointed.

She muttered, almost to herself, "Such a delicate flower. Can’t handle anything."

Her words stung, but I was too tired to care.

Carter was with her: "Evelyn’s always been frail, not like you, Savannah."

His voice was soft, full of admiration. I wanted to scream.

"So now I’m too tough for you?"

Savannah teased, her laughter light.

He tried to charm her: "Come on, Savannah, that’s not fair…"

He reached for her hand, and I felt my stomach turn.

The Williams and Harper families had set up our engagement since we were kids, and Carter never looked at anyone else—until now, flirting with Savannah right by my sickbed.

I lay there, miserable but a little relieved.

At least I dodged the Spring Gala disaster.

I drifted in and out of sleep, grateful to have missed the worst of it.

At the Gala, Savannah was dazzling.

She wore a pale blue dress, her hair loose around her shoulders. The crowd hung on her every word.

Even without me as her foil, her poetry wowed everyone.

She stood alone on the stage, her voice clear and strong. The applause was thunderous.

She was wild but lonely, bright but sensitive.

The living legacy of Colonel Lin, one of a kind.

She won first place, hands down.

No one else even came close. The judges barely pretended to deliberate.

All the society girls pitied her strength and praised her grace.

They crowded around her, offering compliments and friendship. I watched from afar, unseen.

All the guys fell for her confidence and spark.

They lined up to ask her to dance, their eyes shining with admiration.

Just like the story—everyone protected her, fell for her.

It was inevitable, unstoppable. I was powerless to change it.

Meanwhile, I was still sick.

I spent my days in bed, the world passing me by. No one seemed to notice I was gone.

The fever gave me headaches, but I’d dodged disaster, so I didn’t care.

I counted it as a small victory, even as my body ached.

But Carter started coming by every few days, "checking on me."

He’d show up unannounced, his visits awkward and brief.

He’d toss a box of pastries at me and then ask the maid if Savannah was around. I couldn’t help but laugh.

His eyes darted to the hallway, searching for her. I bit back a smile, amused by his obviousness.

"Next time you pretend, try harder. If you’re here for Savannah, just say so."

I met his gaze, daring him to deny it.

He looked embarrassed.

His cheeks flushed, and he shifted from foot to foot.

"When did you get so sassy? I’m only pretending?"

He tried to sound offended, but his voice was weak.

I tossed his pastries back at him.

They landed with a thud on the bedspread. He stared at them, surprised.

They were pecan bars from Sweet Maple Bakery. He knew I was allergic.

The smell made my throat itch. I glared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Carter paused: "I came in a hurry, didn’t think."

He looked away, guilt flickering across his face.

I didn’t care, just said, "If you’re looking for Savannah, she’s probably with Dad, practicing calligraphy."

I said it casually, watching his reaction.

He glared at me.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tight.

"Watch what you say. Dad’s always been strict. He’d never let Savannah stay alone with him."

He sounded defensive, almost desperate.

"A woman’s reputation is everything. You’re just making stuff up."

He crossed his arms, daring me to argue.

See, everyone knows it’s a lie.

But Dad was alone with Savannah all the time, acting like nothing was wrong.

I looked down: "If you don’t believe me, go see for yourself."

I kept my voice soft, almost bored. Let him think what he wanted.

Carter was so mad his chest heaved.

He clenched his fists, his breath coming fast.

He stared at me, then sneered: "No wonder people say you’ve changed."

His words were a slap, but I refused to let them land.

"You never used to talk like this."

He shook his head, disappointment etched on his face.

I looked up, speechless.

I met his gaze, my eyes cold. I was done trying to please him.

No wonder Mom warned me—these men are all sick.

Her words echoed, sharp and true. I felt a strange sense of relief.

To lie like that with a straight face—they’re sick.

I let the thought settle, a bitter comfort.

I don’t know what Carter did after he left.

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I watched him go, unmoved.

The Williams family still came to break off the engagement.

They arrived in a flurry of anger and disappointment. I signed the papers without a word.

After that, Dad was furious, accused me of being spiteful, and grounded me.

He shouted, face red with rage. I stood my ground. Didn’t apologize.

Lucas even rushed home to lecture me about how hard things were for Savannah, how I should be nicer, give in.

He paced my room, his words a blur. I stared out the window, tuning him out.

But what she lost, is it my debt to pay?

I asked myself that question, over and over. The answer was always the same: no.

What she does now, is it my fault?

I refused to carry that burden any longer.

Even after I gave in, is it not enough? Should I crawl for her, too?

The thought made me sick. I was done groveling.

My frustration was obvious.

I let it show, my face hardening. Lucas recoiled, hurt.

Finally, Lucas got mad.

He threw up his hands, his voice shaking.

"You’re hopeless, Evelyn Harper! You really let me down!"

He stormed out.

The door slammed, and I was alone again.

The Sunroom Suite was deserted; I became a ghost in my own house.

The staff avoided me, their eyes sliding past. I wandered the halls, unseen and unheard.

Everyone seemed to agree to just forget about me.

It was easier for them, I suppose. Out of sight, out of mind.

So, I passed my eighteenth birthday alone, spent New Year’s Eve by myself.

I lit a single candle. Sang myself happy birthday. Made a wish I knew wouldn’t come true.

I started to miss Mom.

Her absence was a constant ache, a hole that nothing could fill.

Spring turned to winter, winter to spring again.

The seasons blurred, time slipping through my fingers.

When Lucas graduated top of his class, the whole house threw a party.

The halls were filled with laughter, the smell of barbecue and fresh pie wafting through the air. I watched from the stairs, invisible.

I was finally allowed out, and heard something amazing.

I slipped into the kitchen, hoping for a slice of cake, when I overheard the news.

The mayor was stepping down, and the city’s leading woman, Councilwoman Grant, was taking charge.

Her name carried weight—strong, respected, a force in Maple Heights. I felt a spark. Hope.

To bring in new talent, she broke tradition and announced the Liberty Initiative, opening up city jobs to women across the state.

The announcement was all over the radio, neighbors buzzing about it on their porches. For the first time in a long while, I felt like the world was changing.

Anyone who passed the women’s exam could become an official, and the top three would get appointed right away.

The rules were clear, the opportunity real. I clutched the library card in my pocket, my heart pounding.

This was never in the storybook. Must be the "wild card" Mom mentioned.

Maybe this was my chance to break free, to write my own ending. I could almost hear Mom’s voice, urging me on.

I knew my chance had come.

I straightened my shoulders, determination settling in my bones. This time, I wouldn’t let fate win.