Chapter 1

Note: The inner thoughts of people other than the protagonist are expressed in [] marks.

*****

My mother, Emily Carter, said she was going into hibernation, just like a mama bear. Then she entrusted me to my Grandpa, Ryan Carter, whom she hadn't seen in seven years.

When I got to Ryan's place, things didn't go as expected. Instead of opening his arms in welcome, he practically booted me out the door. "Don't ever let me see you or your mom again," he grumbled.

I couldn't bear the thought of Emily getting her heart broken over this. So, I mustered up my courage and went back to try and sweet-talk him.

"She's worried about me. Can you pretend to like me, just so she won't be sad?"

Ryan just stood there, silent as a statue, his eyes fixed on me. But from that day forward, something changed. He became another important part of my world.

*****

Ryan locked Emily and me out again.

Emily was cursing up a storm, pounding on the iron gate.

She yelled, "Listen, old man! You can forget about me, but you have to take responsibility for Sophie!"

Neighbors started poking their heads out, and one of them, Emma Wesley, who recognized Emily, looked surprised.

She said, "Emily? Is that you? It's been seven years, and you've grown up so much."

But when she saw me, she got stuck for a moment. "This is..."

Emily just ran her fingers through her messy hair, ignoring Emma, and kept knocking on the door.

Emma tried to reason with Emily, saying, "Your dad's had it rough these years. He even caught a cold recently and had to drag himself to the hospital alone."

"Serves him right!" Emily snapped, not buying any of it. Seeing me just standing there, she lost her temper and pushed me right up to the door.

She yelled, "Useless brat! If the old man doesn't want you, I don't want you, either!"

With that, she turned and walked downstairs, leaving me with nothing but her cold, unyielding silhouette.

Emma sighed and waved me over. "Sweetie, why don't you come over to my place and play for a while?"

I shook my head, hugging my picture and squatting in front of the iron gate. "Thank you, but I need to do what Mom said and wait right here."

"Stubborn kid..." Emma muttered, finally closing the door.

The hallway was dead quiet. Nobody cared about me, so I just sat there, counting the tiny flowers painted on the wall.

I wondered if Emily painted these little flowers herself when she was little.

After a long while, the delicious smell of food started wafting in from all directions—it must be lunchtime.

I rubbed my growling stomach and whispered, "It's alright, just hold on a bit longer."

The door creaked open, and Emma peeked out, holding a steaming plate of pasta.

She said, "Girl, you must be starving? Honestly, Emily shouldn't have just left you out here alone like this..."

Even though the pasta was topped with my favorite eggs, I swallowed hard and shook my head again.

I said, "Thank you, but Mom told me not to eat food from others when I'm outside."

Emma stared at me for a long moment, then finally blurted out, "Your mom's already left you behind, and you're still doing what she says?"

She put the plate on the little stool by the door and shut the door again.

I swallowed hard, my eyes glued to the plate of pasta.

Even though my stomach was protesting, I pinched my nose, trying not to breathe in the delicious smell. Maybe if I didn't smell it, I wouldn't be hungry.

After what felt like ages, I ended up leaning against the wall and dozing off.

When I opened my eyes again, Ryan was standing by the door, giving me a look I couldn't quite read.

"Why didn't you eat?" he said, gesturing to the plate of cold pasta.

I hesitantly tugged at his shirt and whispered, "Grandpa."

He stared at me for what felt like forever, then finally let out a sigh. "Come inside."

Ryan really knew his way around the kitchen. He whipped up a whole feast of dishes I'd never even heard of before, plus some mouthwatering little cakes that smelled amazing.

I was stuffing my face so fast that grease was dripping down my chin. Honestly, if I had a few more hands and mouths, I'd have wiped the whole table clean in no time.

Ryan sat off to the side and let out a dry snort.

He said, "Didn't you just say your mom told you not to eat food from strangers?

"So what's with you chowing down like there's no tomorrow now?"

It turned out Ryan had been eavesdropping on us the whole time.

I wiped my mouth and flashed him a sweet smile. "Because you're not a stranger, Grandpa. You're family."

Ryan looked a bit stunned. I suddenly remembered something, dashed to the living room, grabbed my drawing, and pointed at it seriously as I showed him.

"This is me, Mom's on the left, and you're on the right. We're a family."

Since Emily had made me practice this so many times, I could recite it perfectly.

He stared at the drawing for ages, not saying a word.

I watched him with bright eyes, waiting for him to say something nice. My drawing was the best in my whole kindergarten—every teacher said I was really clever with my hands.

But then, all of a sudden, Ryan's face darkened.

He reached out and ripped the drawing right down the middle, tearing our happy family apart in an instant.

I just froze, mouth hanging open, too shocked to move. Before I could even react, Ryan said, "Once you're done eating, I'm taking you straight to the police station.

"And tell your mom to quit with these pathetic stunts to butter me up. I don't ever want to see either of you again."