Chapter 1

I ruin the designer beanbag Lily Brooks bought.

To pay me back for upsetting his precious girlfriend, my father grabs my mother, the only one pleading for mercy, and shoves her inside the heavy upholstery. He grabs a needle and thread and sews her in.

Laughter and playful screams echo from their bedroom as they flirt, blissfully oblivious. I'm frantic, my small fingers clawing at the seams, searching for a zipper that doesn't exist.

My mother's muffled pleas grow faint and hollow. I fly to the door, pounding until my fists ache, but he just snaps from the other side.

"It's just a layer of fabric, for god's sake! If your mother is so damn talented, she can find her own way out."

A bodyguard pins me to the floor. I'm forced to watch, paralyzed, as the shape inside the velvet chair stops moving entirely.

Five days pass. It's my birthday, and my father finally shows his face. He tosses a cheap doll at me as his expression twists in a sneer.

"I dumped her. Is the 'good wife' happy now? Tell her to stop being so dramatic and get out here to see me."

I point to the chair he's currently lounging on. The words are a broken whisper through my tears. "Mom is bleeding."

*****

I had curled up in my mother's arms and slept for two days straight. It wasn't until the hunger became unbearable that I finally went to find something to eat.

The old security guard at the gate, Jacob Lewis, recognized me. He started to wave, but as I got closer, he wrinkled his nose.

"Kid, what's that smell? Where's your mom?"

I pulled him into the house and pointed at the beanbag.

"Mommy's stuck in there. She can't get out."

Jacob muttered under his breath, "Rich people and their weird games. Can't even keep it together in front of the kid."

But when he got closer to the beanbag, he stumbled back, collapsing to the floor in horror.

You could just make out the shape of a person inside, and the air was thick with a putrid stench. Jacob quickly covered my eyes, his hand trembling. "This is... this is murder..."

I didn't understand. My mother was just in the beanbag. She had been talking to me two days ago.

Jacob scooped me up and ran out of the house, where we ran into a few neighbors.

They all recoiled at the smell clinging to me and started whispering.

"I heard Mr. Carter brought his mistress home. Mrs. Carter hasn't been out in days."

"Well, what can she do? She has no family and no connections. She has to put up with it for the money and the status."

"Just look at that poor child, left all alone in the world. Clearly unloved and unwanted. No one to look after her."

Jacob's tears fell onto my face. He kept muttering, "A sin. A terrible sin," as he handed me to Susan Smith, a woman who brought us meals sometimes, before hurrying back to his security post to make a call.

I buried my face in Susan's arms, feeling my mother slip further and further away.

Susan, her eyes red, gently washed me and then took me to get some food.

I forced down the two hard rolls I was given and quickly slipped the other two inside my shirt for later.

I saw the pity welling in her eyes, but I also saw the smile she was trying to fight back. "Oh, honey," she murmured as she flagged down a waiter for another basket of hard rolls.

"Mia, sweetie, you don't have to save them. I have money."

I shook my head, explaining, "Mommy hasn't eaten in two days. I have to bring these to her."

Her fork clattered to the floor. She pulled me into a hug and started to sob, yelling, "You poor child. How could they be so cruel?"

But I didn't cry. My mother was waiting for me. She was the best mother in the world, and I would never abandon her.

But when I got home, the beanbag was gone.

The entire house was swarming with police in their dark blue uniforms. Jacob was there, too. When he saw me, he turned away, wiping at his eyes.

I held out one of the hard rolls to him.

"Don't cry, Jacob. I'll be good."

His hand trembled as he took it. "Look at her," he said to the officers. "So well-behaved. What's going to happen to her?"

One of the officers knelt in front of me. "Sweetie," he asked gently, "do you know where your dad is?"

I shook my head and answered, "He left with the pretty lady. He hasn't been back for days."

His hand on my shoulder trembled. "Can I see my mommy now?" I asked. "The hard rolls are getting cold. She has to eat them warm, or her tummy will hurt."

The room fell silent. Everyone was looking at me with the same pained expression.

The officer in front of me lowered his head, and I saw his shoulders shake.

After a long moment, he looked up, whispering, "Sweetie, do you have any other family?"

I nodded.

Two days ago, my mother had given me a string of numbers to memorize.

After she told me, she never spoke again.

I typed the numbers into my phone and hit "call."

The phone was answered almost immediately. A deep, gruff voice came through the line.

"So, you finally decided to call your old man? Took you long enough..."

"Are you my grandpa?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "My mommy's dad?"