Chapter 2

When I pushed open the door, Mom was crouched in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor.

The dirty water she wrung from the rag mixed with dish soap, and her fingers were red from the cold. Her sleeves were still stained from the tea she'd brewed that morning.

"Mom." My voice was hoarse. "Stop scrubbing. Has the refrigerator been fixed?"

She looked up and forced a smile. "Your dad says we should make do with it a little longer. We'll get a new one once business picks up."

I stared at her cracked fingernails, feeling as though someone had grabbed my heart and squeezed.

Last year, when Dad's arthritis flared up, Mom had even cracked walnuts by hand to prepare his remedies, splitting one of her fingernails in the process.

All Dad had said was, "Women are just too delicate."

And Mom had actually begun to wonder whether she really was too delicate.

"How did the property deal go?" Mom pushed herself upright, one hand braced against her lower back. "Your dad was coughing half the night. I need to hurry up and raise the money..."

I cut her off and handed her my phone. "Look at this first."

Confused, she took it and began scrolling through the screen.

Kendra Hayes's social media posts appeared one after another before her eyes.

[Test-Drive Surprise] showed Dad smiling with one hand on a car door.

[Late-Night Feast] showed Dad cooking seafood in an apron.

But the most shocking was her latest post: [Someone said my bracelet was too plain to go with my new dress.]

The photo showed the Van Cleef & Arpels counter, where a sales associate was wrapping up a necklace from the same collection.

"I checked the prices," I said coldly. "Even the cheapest one costs at least $10,000."

"W-What is this?" Mom's fingers trembled.

"This is the woman who came to look at the property today. And guess what? The person buying her a house is none other than Dad!"

As I explained everything, I watched Mom's reaction closely.

"Dad cries poverty in front of us every single day, but he's been spending all his money on someone else!

"Yesterday, he said he was meeting a client. He was actually accompanying her to pick out a necklace!"

She staggered and grabbed the kitchen counter, nearly collapsing to the floor. "Impossible..."

Her lips trembled. "Your dad said money was tight. He wouldn't even pay for my health insurance..."

I pulled up the screenshots of his bank transactions.

"Tight?" I pointed to the transfers he'd made to Kendra. "He transferred $100,000 to her over three months. Every transaction was labeled as a 'wellness investment.'"

Mom suddenly rushed into the bedroom and came back carrying an iron box.

Inside was a stack of yellowed receipts: Dad's arthritis therapy bills, orders for nutritional supplements, and more.

Every receipt was covered in Mom's neat handwriting: "Austin's health comes first."

Looking at them now, the words were painfully ironic.

At the very bottom lay a photocopy of Grandma Renna's will. "The property is bequeathed to Jenna Bennett, with the hope that it will serve as a place where she can establish a secure and independent life."

Mom looked at the receipts, then at the will, and tears immediately welled up in her eyes. "H-How could he do this to me? He lied to me, took my money, and stole years of my life. I could almost accept that. But does he have to cheat me out of the last thing I have to fall back on, too?

"Your grandmother repeated the same instructions over and over before she died..."

Mom choked up as she gently stroked the will. "This house is my home. It's my foundation..."

I picked up one of the receipts.

Last week, Dad had taken $700 from her, claiming he needed to buy supplements. Around the same time, Kendra had posted a photo showing off her new designer bag.

"Mom, look at this." I held up my phone beside the receipt. "The supplements he bought with your money are being worn by someone else!"

She suddenly snatched the phone from me and began scrolling frantically.

Every photo of Kendra showing off her gifts was like a whip lashing across Mom's face.

Dad cooking seafood in an apron. Dad accompanying Kendra to pick out jewelry. Dad holding her close as she tried out a new car...

"Last year, when I was in the hospital for surgery..." Mom stared at Dad's indulgent smile in one of the photos. "He said the signal in my hospital room was terrible... All this time, he'd been playing chef for someone else..."

Her tears splashed onto the screen. Then, suddenly, she laughed. "No wonder he always complained that the tea I made him was bitter..."

She grabbed the stack of receipts and hurled them violently against the wall. "He took the money I nearly worked myself to death to earn and spent it keeping some little mistress!"

As the papers scattered through the air, her hunched back slowly straightened.

"Evan." She wiped away her tears. "Next week, when we sign the contract, I'm going with you."