Chapter 2
"If your father ever finds out, Ariana, I'll make sure he thinks you're the liar."
Tiffany's voice filled the kitchen.
My father stared at the phone.
Then another voice came through.
Mine.
Small.
Shaking.
"Please don't send me away."
Tiffany replied with a laugh.
"Then learn how to keep your mouth shut."
My father stopped the recording.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
He looked at Tiffany.
"Explain that."
She shook her head.
"It's taken out of context."
"What context makes threatening an eight-year-old acceptable?"
"She's been recording private family conversations!"
"Because she's afraid of you!"
Tiffany's eyes flashed.
"You're going to believe a child over your wife?"
My father's answer came immediately.
"I'm going to believe evidence."
I had never heard him sound so certain.
He turned back to the phone.
There were twenty-three recordings.
I knew because I had counted them every night.
Sometimes, after Tiffany went to sleep, I listened to them beneath my blanket.
Not because I enjoyed hearing her cruelty.
Because I needed to remind myself that I hadn't imagined it.
My father opened another file.
Tiffany's voice rang out.
"Your real mother died, Ariana. She's not coming back. And your father needs a new family, not a crying little reminder of his old one."
My father made a sound I had never heard before.
He gripped the edge of the kitchen island.
My mother, Danielle, had died in a car accident when I was five.
For years afterward, my father and I had slept with her photograph beside our beds.
He used to tell me that love didn't disappear just because someone went to heaven.
Tiffany had turned those memories into weapons.
"Daddy?"
He lowered himself beside me.
"Did she really say that to you?"
I nodded.
"More than once."
His eyes filled.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked toward Tiffany.
My father noticed.
"Ariana, look at me."
I tried.
"Because she said you'd send me away if I ruined your marriage."
My father's face crumpled.
"Oh, baby."
He pulled me against his chest.
"I'm so sorry."
I began crying harder.
"I didn't want you to be lonely again."
He held me tighter.
"You are my family. You were my family before Tiffany, and you'll always be my family."
Behind us, Tiffany scoffed.
"This is unbelievable."
My father stood.
"No. What's unbelievable is that I trusted you."
Marcus suddenly pushed away from the kitchen island.
"Mom, can we go upstairs?"
Tiffany pointed toward the staircase.
"Go."
My father stopped them gently.
"Marcus, Zoe, you haven't done anything wrong by being hungry. Take your food upstairs if you want."
Marcus looked confused.
Zoe glanced at me.
For a moment, I thought she might say something.
Instead, she followed her brother.
Tiffany watched them leave.
Then she lowered her voice.
"Khalil, we need to discuss this privately."
"There's nothing private about what you did to my daughter."
"You know how dramatic Ariana can be."
He raised the phone.
"Not another word about my child."
Tiffany's eyes darted toward the device.
I knew what she wanted.
She had already tried taking it from me twice that week.
Once, she searched my backpack.
Another time, she made me empty my pockets before school.
She never found it because I hid it inside the lining of my stuffed bear.
My father noticed my trembling.
He called someone.
"Mom?"
My grandmother answered immediately.
"Khalil? What's wrong?"
"I need you to come get Ariana."
There was a pause.
"Is she hurt?"
"She's safe with me right now. But I need her somewhere safe while I handle something."
My grandmother didn't ask another question.
"I'm coming."
Tiffany stared at him.
"You're involving your mother?"
"Yes."
"You know she never liked me."
"My mother loved my daughter enough to notice something was wrong."
That sentence surprised me.
Because Grandma Evelyn had noticed.
Three weeks earlier, she'd asked why I no longer wanted to spend weekends at home.
I had told her I was tired.
She'd hugged me and said I could tell her anything.
I had almost told her everything.
Almost.
My father guided me toward the living room.
"Sit with me, sweetheart."
I climbed onto the sofa.
He brought me a clean plate of food.
My hands were still shaking.
"You don't have to eat right now," he said. "But nobody is ever going to make you eat on the floor again."
Tiffany followed us.
"This is my home too."
My father faced her.
"It was supposed to be a home where my daughter felt loved."
"I love Ariana!"
I flinched.
My father saw it.
"Don't say that again."
Tiffany's voice grew colder.
"You're really throwing away our marriage over some recordings?"
"No. You threw away our marriage when you decided my child was someone you could abuse."
She stepped closer.
"And what about everything I've done for you?"
He shook his head.
"Cooking dinner doesn't cancel cruelty."
"Raising three children isn't easy."
"Then you should have asked for help. You don't punish one child to make yourself feel powerful."
Tiffany grabbed her handbag.
"Fine. I'll take my kids and leave."
My father nodded.
"That's what I asked you to do."
But instead of walking toward the staircase, she moved toward the front entrance.
"I need some air."
He didn't stop her.
A moment later, I heard the door slam.
My father sat beside me.
For a long time, we said nothing.
Then he opened another recording.
This one wasn't about food.
It was about my mother's jewelry.
Tiffany's voice said, "Your father doesn't need to know where those things went. Dead women don't wear necklaces."
My father sat upright.
"What jewelry?"
I looked down.
"Mommy's necklace."
His face changed.
"The gold one with her picture?"
I nodded.
"Tiffany took it."
"When?"
"Last month."
"Did she tell you where it went?"
I shook my head.
"She said she sold it because we needed money."
My father looked toward the hallway.
I saw something frightening pass across his face.
Not anger alone.
Recognition.
He reached for his phone and opened the banking application.
He stared at the screen.
Then he whispered something under his breath.
"What is it, Daddy?"
He didn't answer immediately.
He made another call.
"Andre? It's Khalil."
His best friend worked as an attorney.
"I need legal advice tonight."
He listened.
Then spoke again.
"I think my wife has been stealing from me."
My stomach twisted.
Stealing?
I thought Tiffany only hated me.
But when my father opened a second account statement, I realized she might have been hiding something much bigger.
May you like
Because he suddenly looked at me and asked a question I had never expected.
"Ariana, sweetheart... has Tiffany ever asked you to sign your name on any papers?"
