Chapter 1

At the school charity gala, I learned my stepdaughter had stolen from me because my bank sent the alert before my family bothered to tell me.

Ava had charged two silver gowns to my credit card.

One for herself.

One for Margot, the birth mother who had walked out when Ava was four and returned twelve years later as if the empty years were a scheduling mistake.

I was standing at the back of the auditorium with Ava's forgotten jacket over my arm when the host lifted his microphone.

"Please welcome Ava," he said, "and her mother."

The room applauded.

Ava stepped into the spotlight hand in hand with Margot. Same dress. Same smile. Same little tilt of the chin, like they had been practicing being a family all their lives.

Twelve years ago, Margot had left Ava behind and run off to Europe with another man.

Back then Ava would not sleep, would not go to school, and spent three months hiding in a closet whenever the house got too quiet.

I was the one who sat outside that door every night until she trusted the world enough to open it.

Now Margot had been back less than two weeks, and somehow she was "Mom" again.

After the ceremony I slipped past the crowd and caught Ava backstage.

"Return the dress tomorrow."

The smile dropped off her face. She crossed her arms, and her tone came out sounding more and more like Graham's.

"Why do I have to return it? Dad already said he'd pay you back."

"Him paying me back doesn't change the fact that you used my card without asking."

"I was just borrowing it."

"Six thousand dollars isn't borrowing. When you borrow something, you ask first."

Graham came up from behind and stepped in front of Ava.

"It's her big night. Don't start."

I looked at him.

"She stole six thousand dollars off my card."

"I said I'll pay it back."

"She needs to take responsibility for what she did."

Graham frowned.

"Lena, do you really have to teach her like this?"

"She did something wrong. So yes."

Margot, wearing the gown my card had paid for, let out a soft little laugh beside us.

"Lena, this is the first mother-daughter event Ava and I have ever done together. She just wanted to make me happy."

I looked at her.

"And do you know how you got that dress?"

Margot's smile faltered.

"Ava said her father bought it."

"Now you know he didn't. You can go change out of it."

Ava stepped in front of Margot at once.

"Why do you always have to embarrass everybody? If it's about the money, Dad said he'd cover it."

"Why does every single one of you think this is only about money?"

Graham moved in front of his daughter too.

"That's enough."

He didn't raise his voice, but a few parents by the door still turned to look.

"You can cook for Ava. You can pick her up from school. You can take care of her when she's sick."

He paused.

"But remember this: you are not her mother."

The backstage area went dead quiet.

Ava glanced down at the phone that had found its way back into her hand.

Then she lifted her head and gave me a little smile.

"You heard Dad. My mom's back. You don't get a say anymore."

In that instant, I suddenly thought of Ava at seven, the first time she ever called me Mom.

She'd spiked a fever in the middle of the night and wouldn't let go of my shirt.

But when she woke up the next morning, she went back to calling me by my name.

I'd thought twelve years would be enough to teach a child that a mother isn't just the woman who gave birth to her.

Clearly, I was wrong.

Margot came over, her voice as gentle as if she were the one comforting me.

"Thank you for taking care of her all these years."

"I'm back now. You can rest."

I looked at the three of them.

Standing together, they really did look like a family.

I set Ava's jacket down on a chair.

"Okay."

Graham blinked.

"What?"

"Since I'm not qualified to raise her, then from now on, everything about her is on you."

"Lena, don't threaten a child like this."

"I'm not threatening her."

I looked at Ava.

"You're sixteen. You know exactly what you just said."

She looked away and didn't answer.

I took off my wedding ring and pressed it into Graham's hand.

"And so do you."

Then I turned and walked out.

Graham didn't come after me.

He probably assumed I'd do what I always did: go home, make breakfast, remind Ava to grab her gym clothes, and quietly forget the whole fight for him.

That night, I did go home.

But not to make breakfast.

I opened the school's parent portal.

For twelve years, I'd been Ava's emergency contact, her medical authorization, the person cleared to pick her up. All of it, me.

Graham didn't even have her homeroom teacher's number.

I typed his name into the first field.

Then I deleted mine.