Chapter 1

DREA

“We can’t keep hiding this from her anymore,” He whispered harshly.

My eyes gazed up to the door, my ears perched at the hushed voices coming from behind it.

“Yes, we can. That is the only reason I kept her here. She would’ve been kicked out years ago if not for the agreement.” Another voice answered.

Were they even trying to be quiet? And what were they talking about? What agreement?

“Drea doesn’t deserve any of this, Mom.” He sighed, his voice slightly louder and I could sense the frustration in his voice.

My eyes widened at the sound of my name. What did I have to do with this?

“Would you keep your voice down? She cannot know about this. At least not until he gets here.” she hushed. I heard footsteps retreating from the door.

I pulled my eyebrows together in confusion. What were they keeping from me? Who was coming?

I contemplated between eavesdropping on their conversation or just continuing with my homework. Who was I kidding? I heard my name so I couldn’t stop listening.

I stood up from my bed, slowly walking towards the door. I placed my ear on the door in hopes of catching more of the conversation.

“It isn’t up to me anymore. It never was. It’s a done deal. Besides, you know how much we need the money.” She continued.

Money? Hasn’t she extorted enough money from me already over all the years? What if she finally sold me off to someone for money? Would she carry out the threat from years ago?

“If you ever do anything like this again, I’ll kick you out. In fact, I’ll sell you off to the highest bidder. If I’m to get rid of you - might as well make money from it.”

My chest tightened at the thought of that. I wouldn’t put it past her though. She was capable of doing literally anything to ruin my life.

Deciding that I needed to get answers, I wrapped my hand around the doorknob, the cold metal a contrast to my warm hand. Slowly twisting it, I pulled the door open and crept into the living room.

In there, I saw the two familiar faces I had been forced to get used to. They both stopped talking when I came into their line of sight. The air became thick with tension.

My stepmother, Ivanka, looked up at me from her sitting position, the look of distaste I had engraved in my memories evident in her eyes. A subtle reminder that I was not wanted.

“Drea.” I broke eye contact with her and stared at my brother Philip, who had a warm smile on his face. The only light in this dark world of mine.

“Hey. I couldn’t help but overhear my name in your conversation.” I stated, waiting for an answer from one of the pair.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop on private conversations?” Ivanka asked, her tone cold as always.

I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by her.

“Oh right. You don’t have one. Well, it’s common knowledge, my dear.” she continued with a smirk etched on her face.

Philip gave his mom a stern look, one that told her to stop.

There was a moment of silence, with no one speaking. I looked at Philip to see him looking at the hardwood floors, hesitation written all over his face.

“It’s nothing Drea.” Philip said, quickly glancing at me before breaking eye contact.

“It doesn’t seem like anything if—”

“What right do you have to ask us about our conversations?” Ivanka asked harshly.

“I just thought it had something to do with me and-“

“Even if it did…” She started, standing up for her seat and making her way slowly towards me.

Instinctively, my legs began to back up, each footstep I took backwards heavier than the previous. My legs felt like they were about to give up on me as my stomach churned uncomfortably.

I walked backwards until they hit the edge of the dining table, halting my movements. My hands clutched onto the edge of the table, gripping it for dear life.

“It’s still none of your business.” She finished, her face mere inches from mine at this point. I held my breath, my palms sweaty as I avoided her cold gaze.

She looked at me as if I were a prey that was ready to be devoured by a predator.

She smiled, moving away from me and I finally released a breath of relief.

“I know you got paid yesterday. You know what to do.” With that, she was out of the front door.

What just happened?

I breathed out, my eyes slightly blurry from the tears that formed. I hated how easy it was for me to cry.

I needed that money for a new drawing set. School was really hard to manage with the little money I had left after giving her almost everything. I barely made enough at the coffee shop as is.

I shifted my gaze to Philip who was frozen in his seat, his eyes still cast downwards to the floor. The air was thick with tension as an uncomfortable silence settled.

I sniffled, and that seemed to snap him out of his trance. He peeked up at me, worry written all over his face as he stood up.

“Don’t let her get to you. You know she’s all talk. And I told you to stop giving her money. You need it too.” I stared at Philip, who was now standing in front of me.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” I sighed, blinking back the tears.

“I’ll give her the money.” He said. I couldn’t let him do that.

“No, you don’t have to.” I replied. He had already helped me a lot. My conscience couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Yes, I do. And I will. She’s my Mother.” he responded.

“You have already helped me out a lot. The last thing I want is for you to be on bad terms with her because of me. You know how she gets.” I chuckled, recollecting what happened years ago.

Philip got in a lot of trouble because of that.

He laughed, rubbing his hand over his face and settling with a smile.

“We do not want a repeat of that school incident, do we?” He laughed.

“Oh no, we don’t.” I sighed.

We fell into a silence that was quiet yet comforting.

“What are you keeping from me?” I asked. His face fell as his eyes fell to the floor.

He scratched the back of his head nervously, opening his mouth to speak but closing it.

“Philip.” I fixed my eyes on him, looking for anything — any sign that would give me the slightest answer.

“It’s not my place to tell Drea. You will find out soon enough.” He whispered.

“But—” The front door opening made me stop talking. Ivanka rushed in, a wide grin on her face.

“He’s here.” she gleamed.

Who was here?

I was just about to voice out my thoughts when someone walked inside the house. He was a middle-aged man dressed in a crisp suit that probably cost a year's salary at the coffee shop. He wore glasses that were perched at the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes.

He looked directly at me and cleared his throat.

“Miss Drea Hart?”