My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 440

Chapter 440: Chapter 440 A DEMONSTRATION

MARGARET’S POV

The silence had stopped suffocating me.

Nothing about my confinement had improved.

The room was still as barren as ever—the same narrow bed, the same cold stone walls, the same artificial light that refused to tell me whether the world outside was day or night.

And yet...something inside me had.

I sat at the edge of the bed, hands loosely folded in my lap. My gaze rested on the faint scratches etched into the stone floor—marks I didn’t remember making, but had likely traced absentmindedly during the early days of my imprisonment.

Back when I had still been reacting. Panicking.

I exhaled slowly, the breath leaving me steady, measured.

That version of me felt distant now.

Because time, no matter how distorted it seemed in this place, had given me something I had not expected: clarity.

When you are stripped of movement, of distraction, of choice—when there is nothing left but your own thoughts—they sharpen whether you want them to or not.

And mine had.

Again and again, I had walked through the past.

Not just the obvious moments—the confrontation with Catherine, the discovery of her betrayal—but the smaller ones.

The overlooked ones.

The ones I had dismissed without question because I trusted her.

A faint, humorless smile touched my lips.

Trust.

How easily we use that word. How casually we offer it.

And how devastating the cost when it is misplaced.

I leaned back, bracing my hands against the thin mattress as I let my gaze drift upward to the ceiling.

There had always been signs. Subtle, easily dismissed signs.

The way Catherine asked questions with a precision that suggested it wasn’t merely curiosity.

The way she listened when I spoke about psionic structures, her attention too sharp, too focused for casual interest.

Now, I saw it for what it truly was.

Research.

Experimentation.

On me.

On my daughter.

My jaw tightened as Sera’s face rose in my mind—soft at first, then clearer, sharper, layered with years of memories.

Her childhood. Her quiet resilience. The way she had endured more than any child should have, and still found the strength to stand.

The sealing ritual. The moment everything changed.

I had given everything I had to stabilize her. Every thread of my power. Every ounce of strength.

And Catherine had stolen what remained.

A slow breath left me, steadying the flicker of anger that threatened to rise again.

Anger would not help me now. Emotion, in this place, was a liability.

Catherine thrived on it. Manipulated it. Weaponized it.

The faint metallic click of the door unlocking broke through the quiet.

My gaze lifted, my posture straightening with alertness.

The door opened, and Catherine stepped inside.

For the first time since she’d been coming to see me, she wasn’t alone.

My attention shifted to the second figure that entered the room.

A young woman.

She moved with a certain controlled grace, her posture straight, her steps measured—as though she had been taught, trained, to carry herself in a specific way.

But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was her face. Her hair. Her eyes.

For a brief, disorienting moment, my breath caught.

Because she looked—

No.

Not the same. But close enough.

The shape of her features, the line of her jaw, the softness beneath the surface of her expression.

There was something of Sera in her.

Not enough to mistake her, but enough to unsettle something deep within me.

I stood slowly, my gaze fixed on her.

This was not my daughter.

There was no bond. No resonance. No familiar thread that tied us together the way it always had with Sera, even after I had lost my power.

But...

There was something else.

Faint. Indistinct. Like the echo of a connection that had not yet fully formed.

The sensation was subtle enough that I might have dismissed it...if not for the way it stirred something instinctive within me. Protective.

It unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

Catherine’s voice cut through the moment. “I thought you might appreciate some company.”

Her tone was light. Pleasant. As if she had brought a guest to entertain me.

My gaze shifted to her, my expression settling into a blank canvas.

“I didn’t realize you were in the habit of hosting social visits in your dungeon,” I replied coolly.

Her lips curved. “Only for special occasions.”

The young woman beside her remained silent, but I noticed the way her eyes moved—quick, cautious, taking in the room, the door, me.

There was awareness there. And beneath it—fear.

“What is this?” I asked, keeping my focus on Catherine.

She stepped further into the room, her presence filling the space with that same suffocating composure she always carried.

“This,” she said, gesturing to the girl, “is Zara.”

I let my gaze drift to her again, studying the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her hands remained still at her sides—not relaxed, but restrained.

“Zara,” I repeated softly.

Her eyes darted toward me at the sound of her name.

Something passed between us—a flicker of recognition that didn’t belong.

It vanished as quickly as it came.

I frowned, but before I could examine the sensation further, Catherine spoke again.

“She’s one of my more...promising subjects.”

The word made my stomach tighten.

Zara’s expression didn’t change, but I saw it—the minute shift in her breathing, the tightening of her fingers.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” I asked flatly.

Catherine smiled.

“No,” she said. “It’s supposed to motivate you.”

Before I could respond, Catherine’s hand moved.

She reached out and caught Zara’s chin between her fingers, tilting her face upward with a force that was just shy of gentle.

Zara stiffened, but her hands twitched—just slightly—as if resisting the instinct to pull away.

“Look at her,” Catherine said softly, her voice dropping into something quieter, colder.

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