Chapter 3

I didn't bother arguing.

Talking to them was pointless. They were never going to listen anyway.

I just quietly pulled my phone out of my bag.

Under their wary stares, I turned on the camera.

I took photos of the trashed living room, the grease stains and trash on the coffee table, and the food crumbs ground into the carpet.

Then I went into the kitchen, photographing and recording the dirty dishes, the greasy stove, and the empty refrigerator.

My movements were calm and methodical, like those of a forensic expert collecting evidence.

"Harper, what the hell are you doing? Why are you taking pictures?" Claire panicked and jumped up, trying to grab my phone.

She said, "Stop. You wrecked the place, and now you want to post it online, huh? No way."

Whitley snapped, "Put that phone away. Aren't you embarrassed? Don't air our dirty laundry in public. Don't you know the rules?"

I ignored them.

I even stepped back, making sure to get a good shot of their faces, all twisted up with guilt and embarrassment.

A clear thought formed in my head.

Harper, no one was coming to save you.

Your pain and rage were yours to settle. No one else would do it for you.

And evidence would be your strongest weapon.

I stopped recording, turned back to the living room, and calmly connected my phone to the TV screen.

With just a tap, high-definition photos and clear videos began looping across the screen.

The trashed living room, the dirty kitchen, the empty fridge. Every detail was right there, impossible to deny.

Claire and Whitley, who'd been making a scene just moments ago, were instantly shut down.

Other people might believe their version of the story, but these images left them with no room to argue.

I walked over to the fridge, pulled open the door, and stared at the few veggies left inside. It was time to settle the score.

I said quietly, my voice cutting through the silence, "Last Friday, I did a full grocery run at the shop nearby. Four Filet steaks. 100 dollars each. 400 dollars in total.

"Valley Milk. Two cases, twenty-four cartons. 60 dollars in total.

"Montcrest Water. One case. 40 dollars in total.

"Belathy Cookies. Two tins. 50 dollars in total.

"Snowflake Cookies. One box. 45 dollars in total."

Each item came with a precise market price.

Claire's face cycled through shock, shame, and pure rage.

Whitley's lips trembled as if she wanted to speak, but my next words cut her off before she could.

I said, "That's just what I can recall off the top of my head. As for all those scattered yogurts, fruits, and snacks, I won't even count those."

I turned around and looked straight at them.

"Oh, and one more thing." I pulled out my phone again, opened up my shopping app, and cast the order history onto the TV for everyone to see.

I said, "This is from last month. I bought tuna before Claire came. 140 dollars per pound, and I bought three pounds. And the organic kids' puffs your son loves. 33 dollars each, and I bought five boxes.

"The list is right here. The numbers don't lie."

I paused and continued, "Danny, take a good look. Ever since Claire started showing up every Saturday for her so-called 'family dinners' these last three years, do you even realize how much extra I've shelled out on groceries?"

Those glaring red numbers on the screen hit the Simmons family hard.

Danny looked like a man stripped bare by truth. He looked awful.

He tried more than once to step up and stop me, to put an end to this public shaming, but every time, I hit him with a cold stare that made him freeze and back off instantly.

For the first time, he found himself tense and unsettled before me.

"Harper, what's your problem?" Claire finally snapped, jumping up from the couch and pointing right in my face. "Why are you calculating all this? Are you mad that we ate your food? We're family. I'm Danny's sister.

"What's wrong with my staying at Danny's house? Do you really have to be so stingy? Jeez, you're obsessed with money."

Whitley snapped out of it and jumped in, shaking with rage. "Are you trying to tear this family apart, Harper? I can't believe you're picking a fight over groceries with Claire. Don't you have any sense of respect?

"Danny, look at your wife. She's driving us crazy."

They teamed up, trying to guilt-trip me, all to cover up their greed.

Too bad, it didn't work on me anymore.