Sold the house.

Chapter 2

“Sapphire, dear.”

I froze mid-step.

If I didn’t turn around, if I pretended I didn’t hear her, I could still escape. I’d blend into the crowd and disappear.

But hope has never been my strongest quality.

“Sapphire,” my grandma called again, her voice dripping in false warmth, it made my skin crawl. “Didn’t you hear me?”

I turned slowly, fixing my face into the polite smile I’d perfected over the years. The one that said I’m fine when I wasn’t.

“It’s quite loud,” I said mildly. “I couldn’t hear you over the noise.”

Her smile tightened.

“Wait,” one of the women beside her asked, looking at me through narrowed eyes. “Is this your granddaughter?”

“Yes,” my grandma replied immediately. “Though she looks absolutely nothing like my daughter.”

My heart began to race, aware of what was about to happen next. Here we go.

“You’re right,” the woman said, tilting her head. “I wouldn’t have even guessed you were related.”

My grandma gave a botched laugh — the type she kept reserved for church and events such as these. “She’s the only one in our family who’s overweight,” she said lightly, like she was discussing the weather. “I’ve been telling her to stay away from junk food, but you know how these things go. If she doesn’t change, she’ll never find a man.”

My chest tightened as they all laughed at me. Laughed like the joke that I was.

“I mean,” she continued, gesturing proudly, “look at my daughter.”

And just like that, I disappeared.

“Evelyn was always fiery,” she went on. “She was always bold and making an impact!”

“I heard she was on the front lines during the tax protests,” another woman said, sounding impressed.

“That’s just the beginning,” my grandma replied, her chin lifted. “She’s accomplished so much.”

They hummed in agreement, their faces glowing with admiration towards her.

“It’s no wonder Jonathan Castillo chose her,” one of them giggled.

“Who else would he marry?” my grandma said smugly. “My daughter is a gem after all. She deserves nothing less.”

They laughed.

My eyes drifted to the crowd, looking for an easy unobstructed way to get the hell out of this place. To go home.

“How does it feel,” one of the women asked suddenly, turning to me, “to become the daughter of the wealthiest man in New York?”

“Step-daughter,” I corrected.

Her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I’m his step-daughter,” I repeated, my voice steady. “Not his daughter.”

I caught the twitch in my grandma’s eye just before she laughed it off.

“She’s still adjusting,” she said lightly. “You know how young people are.”

They nodded sympathetically.

“Excuse us,” my grandmother said sweetly — then yanked me by the arm, dragging me away.

The smile vanished the moment we were alone.

“What was that?” she hissed.

“I corrected her.”

“Why would you embarrass me like that?”

I shrugged. “Is there anything I do that doesn’t embarrass you?”

Her jaw tightened. “Jonathan has done so much for us. Why would you deny him?”

“Because he’s not my father,” I said. “And he never will be.”

She scoffed. “Then who is? That useless excuse of a man?”

My throat tightened.

“God has finally blessed you with a wealthy father figure,” she continued, “and you’re still ungrateful!”

“I’m going home,” I said quietly, turning away.

“Unless you want to sleep on the streets.”

I stopped. “What?”

“The house has been sold,” she said casually. “It’s long overdue, it was falling apart anyway.”

A laugh fled my lips in disbelief.

“Give me the keys,” I said. “None of your tricks will make me stay here.”

She scoffed, “Go see for yourself then.”

So I did.

My breathing grew heavy as I got into the taxi. Partly because I ran faster than I ever had in my life, and partly because I hoped. With all my heart, I hoped she was lying.

The drive was excruciatingly long, my feet incessantly tapping as my hands gripped my laps. My eyes glued to the windows, as we passed the skyscrapers and modern architecture, all I craved was home.

It was rundown. It wasn’t as high as the skyscrapers or as refined or as flashy as the buildings I had passed—but it was my home. Holding something more precious than any of these highrise buildings could never.

And I wasn’t ready to lose that.

“We’re here ma’am.” The voice of the driver dragged me out of my thoughts.

I handed him a dollar bill, “thank you.”

He looked at my hand like I was holding trash. “Uhm… is there a problem?”

“Your money is forty dollars.”

I gasped. “Forty dollars????”

“I brought you all the way from Beverly Hills, others would charge up to a hundred even. Forty dollars for a cab?? That’s just flat-out robbery!!”

“Look woman, you better pay my money!” he sounded like he was getting agitated, and I looked into my purse.

All I had was five dollars, a Super Mario keychain, a blunt pencil and a tampon; nothing that could save me from the impending doom about to befall me.

I cursed under my breath. I should have bought that vintage pocket knife from eBay.

“You’re wasting my time lady. C’mon, I’ve got places to be.” It was 8pm, but it was already pitch black outside.

I needed to be smart. If not, I’d end up like those girls on the news. You know, the ones they talk about for a week and their names fade into the background and nothing changes.

I gave a polite smile, the practiced one. “I need you to drive me back home, to get a cab at this time of night would be a hassle.”

“That’ll cost you extra, lady.” He said, his eyes heavy with greed.

I lifted my chin. “Do you think a hundred dollars is anything to me? I live in Beverly Hills.”

He hesitated at first then nodded.

I stepped out.

I tried to open the door, it didn’t budge.

The windows at the front were all locked. I went to the backyard, and the door was locked too.

It was only when I was trying to open one of the windows that I saw the sign.

SOLD.

My heart dropped.

How could they have sold the house. Our home??

I could hardly contain the anger rising in me once again. I needed answers, and only my mum would give them to me.

When I got to the porch, the taxi honked.

Now I had two options— pay this greedy asshole a hundred dollars, or call my mum for help.

So I did what any sensible independent rage filled 19 year old woman would have done in my situation— I ran.

“hey!!”

I sped with all the energy I could muster, but when I heard the engine rev, I knew I couldn’t escape.

But hell, would I let him rob me blind of a hundred dollars.

And then out of nowhere, headlights blinded me for a split second, stopping me in my tracks.

Then I felt a hand grab me.

“Pay me my money, lady!” it was the cab man.

“Let go of me you thief!!” I resisted as much as I could, but it was futile.

Was this how I was going to die?? Over a hundred dollars??

What a way to go—

“Let her go.” His voice cut through the night, making the cab man stop his assault.

I turned to face him, and I frowned.

What the fuck was he doing here??