Chapter 2

Grandpa set up a small mourning hall for Mom.

As I asked, he put it in the attic, right where Mom and I used to live together.

The villa felt too big. I was afraid that if Mom ever came back, she wouldn't be able to find me. But with the mourning hall there, I thought she just might.

In the center sat Mom's ID photo from before she got married.

She wore a lab coat, her eyes bright with happiness and hope.

I'd never seen her smile like that.

Three days after Mom died, Dad didn't call once.

Grandpa went to the hospital where Nora was staying, but learned Dad had taken Claire and Nora to a private island for their wedding.

To give Nora the best post-surgery care, Dad brought the hospital's entire top medical team with him.

Grandpa pulled me close, tears soaking my shoulder. "Monster... How did I raise a son like this?" he muttered.

I patted his back gently, but I didn't hurt for Mr. Foster anymore.

I just wondered—if even one of those doctors had stayed for Mom, would she still be alive?

When Grandpa finally stopped crying, he seemed smaller, his back bent with grief.

"The Foster family failed you and your mom. Anna, go with your uncle. Live without that monster," he said.

But Uncle wouldn't be able to come for a few more days.

I gently touched Mom's urn.

She'd want to go with Uncle too, wouldn't she?

After all, sometimes Mom would hold Uncle's photo, her eyes lighting up with that unmistakable joy.

She'd always say, "My brother really loves me. I am loved, too."

On the seventh day after Mom died, Dad came back with Claire.

In their rush, they didn't even take Nora back to her room before Dad carried Claire straight into the master bedroom.

They were so loud that I could hear their laughter and chatter all the way from the attic.

"Edward, what if Lydia hears us? She'll be upset again," Claire said.

"She's nothing," Dad scoffed.

I cupped the sides of Mom's urn, trying to block their voices from reaching her.

I remembered how it broke Mom's heart whenever she heard them together. I didn't want her hurt again.

Uncle was coming tomorrow. Just one more night.

Lightning split the sky, flooding the room with light—and that was when I saw her: a devil in a child's face.

Nora stood in the doorway, a wicked grin on her lips.

She sauntered over and whispered in my ear, "Your mom's kidney is really useful.

"Your mom doesn't want you anymore."

"Your mom is dead!" she cackled.

I bit my lip hard, trying to stop shaking. But when she reached for Mom's urn, something snapped inside me.

I threw myself in front of it, ready to take whatever she'd do.

But instead of the beating I expected, there was a sharp, piercing scream.

When I turned around, Nora was sprawled in Claire's arms, pale as a ghost.

Claire stared at the mourning hall, completely freaked out.

And there was Edward Foster—my dad—who I hadn't seen in forever.

I watched his face twist from shock at the mourning hall, to heartbreak over Nora, to blazing fury.

He stormed over, grabbed Mom's photo, and threw it to the floor, stomping on her face.

He shouted, "Lydia, where are you hiding? Get out here! What is this, some kind of ghost act?

"Jealousy has limits! When will you stop? If you love playing dead so much, why don't you actually die?"

Faced with Dad's rage, I shrank back instinctively. "Mr. Foster, Mom really is dead."

He finally looked at me, pure disgust on his face.

He sneered, "Lydia, if you love playing dead, why not take this bastard with you and die for real?"

He left the attic but came stomping back with a baseball bat.

I started shaking uncontrollably.

Ever since Claire and Nora came back, Dad loved using that bat to "teach me lessons."

Mom used to shield me with her body. But now it was just me—my scrawny frame the only thing protecting Mom's ashes.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but the beating hurt several times worse than usual.

"Lydia, if you don't come out right now, I'll beat this bastard to death. I'll make sure she's dead for real," Dad snarled.

My sobs faded, but I still said firmly, "Mom's really gone, Mr. Foster. Why won't you believe me?"

Dad looked suspicious, but Claire pointed at the security camera in the corner.

Suddenly understanding, he yanked me over and shoved me down to kneel in front of the camera.

"Kneel there and face the camera. Let's see what kind of heartless mother can watch her own kid get beaten and do nothing."

As he dragged me, Mom's urn slipped from my arms and hit the floor.

I struggled to crawl over, trying to pull it back into my arms.

"But Mom's right here with me," I whispered.