Chapter 3

I woke to the sound of tearing paper.

For a moment, I lay still in the basement guest bed, trying to convince myself it was just part of a dream. But the sound continued—deliberate, methodical ripping that echoed in the early morning stillness.

I slipped from bed, careful not to wake Ethan on the pullout couch. The concrete floor was cold against my bare feet as I crept up the basement stairs. The door was unlocked for once—Michael must have forgotten last night.

The sound led me to the dining room. I froze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.

Mason sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by shredded paper. Not just any paper—the drawings Ethan had made of Lily. The ones I'd carefully preserved in a folder, hidden in my desk drawer.

"What are you doing?" My voice was barely a whisper.

Mason looked up, not a trace of guilt on his face. "Making confetti." He tore another drawing in half—Lily's smiling face ripped down the middle.

I rushed forward, dropping to my knees. "Stop! These are precious—they're all we have left of her!"

"What's going on?" Michael appeared in the doorway, coffee in hand, Victoria hovering behind him.

"He's destroying Ethan's drawings of Lily," I said, gathering the torn fragments with trembling hands.

Michael sighed. "They're just drawings, Sarah. Mason was just playing."

"Playing?" I stood, clutching the ruined memories to my chest. "These are irreplaceable. They're Ethan's memories of his sister."

Victoria stepped forward, placing a hand on Mason's shoulder. "He didn't know they were important, did you, sweetie?"

Mason looked up at his mother with wide, innocent eyes. "No, Mommy. I thought they were just old papers."

"There, you see?" Michael said dismissively. "An honest mistake. You're overreacting again."

I stared at them—this united front against me. Against Lily's memory. "He went through my desk to find these."

"Oh, Sarah." Michael's voice dripped with condescension. "Always looking for someone to blame. Maybe you left them out. Or maybe Ethan gave them to Mason to play with."

I knew the truth. I saw it in Mason's smug little smile, in Victoria's satisfied eyes. This was deliberate. Another calculated attack.

"I need to check on Ethan," I said, turning away before they could see my tears.

That night, after putting Ethan to bed, I reached for the silver heart locket I always kept on my nightstand—the one containing a tiny photo of Lily. My fingers met empty space.

Panic rose in my throat as I searched frantically through drawers, under the bed, in every corner of our basement prison. Nothing.

Sleep evaded me as I lay in bed, my hand instinctively reaching for the absent locket. It was the last birthday gift I'd given Lily before she died. Inside was a lock of her honey-blonde hair and her smiling face. Now it was gone—like everything else that mattered to me in this house.

The next morning, I was making Ethan's lunch when Emma skipped into the kitchen, something silver glinting around her neck.

My locket.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, my voice steady despite the rage building inside me.

Emma touched the heart, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "This? Daddy Michael gave it to me. He said I could have it."

"That's not true," I said, setting down the knife I'd been using to cut Ethan's sandwich. "That locket belonged to my daughter. It has her picture inside."

"No, it doesn't." Emma opened the locket, revealing emptiness where Lily's photo and lock of hair had been. "See? It's empty. For me to put my own pictures in."

I reached for the locket. "Please give it back, Emma. It's very special to me."

"What's going on now?" Michael entered the kitchen, Victoria and Mason trailing behind.

"She's trying to take my necklace!" Emma cried, darting behind her mother.

"It's Lily's locket," I explained, struggling to keep my voice calm. "The one with her picture. Emma has it."

Michael's expression hardened. "I gave it to Emma. You have enough mementos of Lily cluttering the house. It's time to move on."

"Move on?" The words felt like physical blows. "That's our daughter you're talking about."

"And Emma is part of our family now too," he countered.

Mason stepped forward, a malicious glint in his eyes. "I want to see the necklace."

Before anyone could react, he snatched the locket from his sister's neck, the chain breaking with a snap.

"Mason!" Victoria scolded halfheartedly.

With deliberate slowness, Mason dropped the locket on the kitchen tile. Then, looking directly at me, he brought his foot down hard.

The silver heart crumpled under his shoe, the delicate hinges breaking apart.

"Oops," he said, not bothering to hide his smile.

I stared at the destroyed locket—the last physical connection to my daughter, crushed on my kitchen floor.

"Mason, that wasn't nice," Michael said mildly, before turning to me. "It was an accident, Sarah. Don't make a scene."

But as I knelt to gather the broken pieces, I felt something hardening inside me. This wasn't just about a locket. This was about erasing Lily—erasing me and Ethan. And I would not let them succeed.

I slipped the broken pieces into my pocket, my decision made. It was time to call Ryan.