I took the egg hurled at my temple as a sign from God that I’d made the right decision signing my soul over to Zachary Sun.
If anything, kicking my step-monsters out of Dad’s home would give me some much-needed peace and quiet.
Reggie’s wails boomed from the kitchen into the entryway. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
I would, too, if I’d missed my calling in baseball. With that arm, she could’ve been the next Spencer Strider.
I shut the front door behind me and ignored the splattered yolk, feeling like a semitrailer had run me over several times before someone scraped me off the road, hurled me into a dumpster fire, then shot my remainders.
Every inch of me felt bruised, malnourished, and bone-tired.
When I hauled myself into the kitchen, the contents of the freezer greeted me. Frozen veggies, chicken nuggets, and ancient half-pints of ice cream—checkered across the floor.
“I can’t find my macaroons.” Reggie tromped out of the pantry with a face full of makeup and a dress straight out of Stepford Wives. “Please tell me you didn’t eat them, Tab. How can I complete my vlog?”
“That shit gets three hundred views on a good day.” Perched on an island stool, Tabby ran her tongue over her teeth in front of a compact mirror. She scooped the car keys from an ugly fruit bowl. “Admit it, Reggie, it’s not a career. It’s a money pit. Be an Elsa, not an Anna.”
“An Elsa?”
“Let it go.”
With a sigh, I jerked the fridge open, grabbed a yogurt cup, and commandeered someone’s half-eaten tray of raspberries.
Neither Thing 1 nor Thing 2 noticed me, even after I slammed the door shut with my hip and started trudging my way to my room.
I’d clean everything tomorrow.
I was dog tired.
Reggie stomped around behind my back. “You’re just jealous I actually have a career.”
I tossed a few raspberries into my mouth and wondered what kind of mouthwatering dinner Zach’s chef made for him tonight.
Grabbing the banister, I took the stairs two at a time, shaking my head. It got warmer the further I traveled down the long, narrow corridor.
Mine was the last room and by far the smallest. It suited me fine. Easier to heat up in the winter.
I kicked the door open, thinking nothing of the fact that it was already slightly ajar, when I found Vera sitting criss-cross applesauce on my bed, surrounded by a halo of scattered documents.
I set my dinner on my study desk and rushed to the bed, collecting all the papers. “What the hell are you doing?”
My birth certificate.
An engagement letter with a lawyer that had already dropped me six months ago when I couldn’t afford her retainer.
Some legal documents regarding my fencing federation penalty.
All there.
Check, check, check.
Vera stood, rearranging her Gucci belt over her waist. A secondhand treasure she’d snagged at a thrift store.
“Don’t look so scandalized, child. I knew you were up to something, so I decided to sniff around.”
“You went through my stuff?” I spat out, collecting everything into my arms and opening the blue folder I’d organized them in. “Who gave you the right?”
She flung her bleached hair to one shoulder. “This is my house, you know.”
“Ours,” I corrected, shoving the documents inside and clutching the folder to my chest. “It belongs to me, too.”
Vera peered around the room with distaste, already calculating what she could do with the space. “I’ll buy it off you eventually.”
“With what money? I’m the only one here who works.”
She waltzed into my closet. The hinges creaked and groaned. “Don’t give me this attitude. You deserve everything that’s coming your way.”
Every muscle in my body clenched as she began sifting through my clothes, searching for… What?
Secrets? More documents? Things to help her figure out what I was up to?
She already knew I planned to contest the will as soon as I had the means. Anyone with a functioning brain could guess that.
“Why?” I rushed after her, rearranging everything she tossed, pulled, and tugged. “Why do you hate me so much?”
A genuine question.
I didn’t believe in fairytales with one-dimensional villains and angelic heroes.
I believed in the gray area between bad and good. Where good people could make bad choices and still try to be better the next day.
Vera balled a shirt of mine and chucked it on the floor, pivoting to me.
“You really want to know? Even when the answer is so obvious?” Heavy pants rattled her shoulders. “You were his biological daughter, Farrow. Who looked just like him. You had the DNA advantage. And he was obsessed with you. Loved you far more than you deserved. He only pretended with Reggie and Tabby.” She drew a hand to her chest, the globe-sized engagement ring Dad had given her twinkling under the light. Tears sprung to her eyes. “Oh, my sweet girls. They tried so hard to please him.”
My jaw clamped.
I struggled not to cry.
I missed him so much, not because he was the best father, but because he was the only person in my corner.
It sucked. The aloneness I’d felt since he died clung to me like a latex dress.
Sometimes, I’d close my eyes and fight the constant tide of loneliness by recounting the earliest memories Dad and I shared.
Lately, it had gotten harder. Memories were a lousy ex. When you wanted them gone, they stayed. When you wanted them here, they left.
Vera jerked away from the clothing rack and hugged herself. “And he put all of his resources and time into your fencing. We always came second to you. He cheered you on at every single competition you’ve ever had, yet he never made it to Tabby’s ballet recitals or Reggie’s pickleball matches.”
Now wasn’t the time to point out that they’d both sucked at their crafts and lasted point-three seconds.
Tabby’s entire ballet career could be summed up in one three-minute home video of her starring as a tree in The Nutcracker. The part didn’t require her to move.
In fact, it encouraged stillness.
“You wanted him to give me away when my mother left me at his door.” I clutched one of Dad’s sweatshirts she’d discarded to my chest. “Your cruelty cannot be excused.”
“Yes, I did.” Vera’s eyes met mine. She stood tall, proud and unapologetic. “You were a healthy cherub of a baby. Not even a month old. You would’ve found a wonderful family to adopt you, somewhere you didn’t have to compete for attention. I tried to do you a favor. You weren’t foster care material.”
“Oh. Wow.” I shook my head, a bitter chuckle escaping me. “You did not just say that.”
But of course, she did.
Vera Ballantine had no limits.
I flung the door open, waving a hand at the cavity it left. “Get out of my room.”
Vera advanced to me, shoving her face in mine. “Don’t contest the will, Farrow.”
“It’s not the real will.”
Her face was so close to mine, I could see the rage swimming in her bloodshot eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because he would’ve left me the business.”
And the pendant, too.
The one I’d get from Zach, no matter what.
Dad wanted me to have everything he cherished, because he knew I’d keep it close to my heart. Keep his memory safe.
“You little idiot.” She raised her hand. I flinched, anticipating her strike. Instead, her grin widened as she pretended to wipe something off my shoulder. “You will never take me and my girls down.”
With that, she stalked off.
