Chapter 4
She was quietly picking up the scarf she'd scorned hours before. She ran her fingers over the fabric, then held it up against herself in the dim light, turning slightly.
In the moonlight, I could just make out a small, unmistakable smile on her face.
It held a touch of pride, of satisfaction... and something else I couldn't place.
My breath caught.
She did like it.
She just didn't know how to show it.
Or maybe that tough exterior was hiding something else entirely.
That small moment cracked open everything I thought I knew about her.
The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, I checked the emergency cash I kept in my drawer, about two hundred dollars.
The envelope was empty.
My blood ran cold. No one had broken in.
There was only one possibility.
At dinner that night, my suspicion was confirmed. Aaron was showing off a brand new, limited-edition pair of sneakers to Colton.
I'd seen those exact shoes online. The price tag? Just under two hundred dollars.
Rage burned hot in my chest.
I stared at him. He was oblivious, basking in the attention.
I knew it was him. But I had no proof.
If I accused him, Delilah wouldn't believe me. She'd say I was starting trouble, being cheap, trying to cause a scene.
I'd just humiliate myself all over again.
I looked down, swallowing the anger and the bitter taste of injustice.
My eyes fell on the usual plate of steamed shrimp, still warm. For the first time, I realized the real thief in this house wasn't the one who stole my money.
It was the suffocating feeling of being robbed of my voice, my right to even defend myself.
I had to find out the truth fast.
My first project at the company was a hit. I landed a major client for the team.
At the celebration dinner, my boss praised me in front of everyone and handed me a hefty bonus.
Holding that check, I felt a real, solid sense of accomplishment.
That feeling evaporated the second I answered my phone. It was Aaron.
Somehow, he'd already heard about the bonus. He didn't even say hello. "Hey, heard you got some extra cash. Perfect timing. There's this new in-game bundle I want. Seven hundred dollars. Wire it over."
His tone was a demand, not a request.
A cold laugh almost escaped me.
This grown man-child. It was like I was his personal ATM.
"I don't have it for you," I said, my voice flat and final.
It was the first time I'd ever refused him outright.
There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by sputtering rage.
He said, "What's your problem, Caroline? Everyone knows you got the money. Getting too big for your boots now? You lived in our house, ate our food, used our everything! And now you won't spare a few bucks? You ungrateful..."
The stream of venom kept coming.
I didn't wait for him to finish. I hung up and blocked his number.
Silence. Blessed, peaceful silence.
That weekend, Colton and Delilah went to visit relatives back in their hometown, leaving me alone in the house.
Grateful for the quiet, I decided to do a deep clean.
While tackling the storage room, buried under a pile of old junk in a corner, I found a dusty leather suitcase.
I recognized it.
It was my mother's.
My parents died in an accident when I was little. This suitcase was all I brought with me to my uncle's house.
Once my things were unpacked, it was forgotten here.
I blew off the dust and clicked open the latches.
Inside were some of my mother's old favorite books and a few pieces of clothing from her youth, smelling of mothballs and faded memories.
At the very bottom, I found a hardcover journal and a thick, old document folder made of kraft paper.
I opened the folder first. Inside was a hospital record.
My mother's name was at the top.
My heart stuttered.
I skimmed down to the diagnosis. A line of printed text jumped out at me.
[Hereditary Hepatic Synthetic Dysfunction.]
A loud ringing filled my ears.