Chapter 2
For the first two weeks after Mom came to my house, nothing happened.
No visits.
No calls from unknown numbers.
No relatives appearing at my door.
I almost believed she understood.
Then Aunt Melissa called.
I hadn’t blocked her because she had never been cruel to me.
She was Dad’s younger sister.
“Paige.”
Her voice sounded careful.
“Your mother is devastated.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
“What happened?”
“She says you’ve cut everyone off.”
“I did.”
“She says she doesn’t understand why.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
“She understands.”
“She says you won’t tell her.”
“I did tell her.”
Melissa hesitated.
“She also said you humiliated Trevor online.”
That surprised me.
“How?”
“The calculator comment.”
I stared at my kitchen wall.
“You mean the sentence he said to me at Dad’s birthday?”
“I’m just telling you what she said.”
I sat down.
“Did she tell you they skipped my graduation?”
Silence.
“Paige…”
“Did she?”
“No.”
Of course.
“Did she tell you they were at a restaurant celebrating Trevor while I graduated?”
Another silence.
“No.”
I felt something inside me harden.
Not bitterness.
Clarity.
“That’s why I’m done explaining myself.”
Melissa exhaled.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the point.”
After we ended the call, I expected anger.
Instead, I felt relieved.
For years, my family controlled the story because I always stayed quiet to “keep peace.”
Peace for whom?
Certainly not me.
A few days later, I learned Mom had been telling relatives that I had become arrogant after getting a “little office job.”
Then Trevor apparently said I had purchased the house to embarrass them.
That one almost impressed me.
Buying a home purely to insult your brother would require remarkable financial discipline.
Riley found the whole thing hilarious.
“You should buy another one.”
“I can barely afford this one.”
“Fine. Buy a mailbox.”
I laughed.
She helped me paint the living room that weekend.
For the first time, the place started feeling like mine.
We were halfway through painting when someone knocked.
Dad.
Riley looked at me.
“Want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
I opened the door but did not invite him in.
He looked past me.
“So this is really yours.”
“That’s generally how buying works.”
He frowned.
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
I almost smiled.
That sentence had followed me through childhood.
Trevor could tease.
Dad could insult.
Mom could dismiss.
But if I answered back?
I was disrespectful.
Dad shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Your mother’s upset.”
“I know.”
“You should call her.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“She’s your mother.”
“And I’m her daughter.”
“You’re acting like she committed some terrible crime.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I’m acting like what she did mattered.”
Dad sighed.
“Your graduation was one day.”
That sentence cut deeper than I expected.
“One day?”
“Yes.”
“Dad, it wasn’t about one ceremony.”
“What then?”
I stared at him.
“The truck.”
His expression changed.
He remembered.
“My college fund.”
“We didn’t have one.”
“Exactly.”
“Paige—”
“My high school graduation dinner that you left early because Trevor needed help moving.”
“That was years ago.”
“My twenty-first birthday when Mom canceled because Trevor had a breakup.”
“You’re keeping score now?”
I laughed softly.
“No.”
“I stopped keeping score when I realized it was always the same score.”
Riley stood quietly behind me.
Dad glanced at her, clearly uncomfortable having a witness.
Then his eyes moved around the hallway.
“How much did this place cost?”
I almost laughed.
“That’s what you came to ask?”
“I’m curious.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“No what?”
“No, I’m not discussing my finances.”
“We’re family.”
“That didn’t seem important when tuition was due.”
His face reddened.
“That’s unfair.”
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
“That’s accurate.”
Dad stared at me for several seconds.
Then he said something I had heard all my life.
“You’ve always been sensitive.”
There it was.
My punishment for remembering.
I opened the door wider.
“I think you should go.”
“Paige.”
“Please.”
His face hardened.
“This is exactly what your mother means. You get one decent job and suddenly think you’re better than everybody.”
I nearly answered.
Then Professor Hart’s voice returned to me.
Stop giving your victories to people who turn them against you.
So I smiled.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
I closed the door.
My hands shook afterward.
Riley put down the paint roller.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then I cried.
That evening, Dad sent an email.
He called me ungrateful.
He listed everything they had provided when I was a child.
Food.
Clothing.
A bedroom.
School supplies.
Basic parenting became evidence of generosity.
Then came the final paragraph.
We made mistakes, but family is family. You’ll regret pushing everyone away when you need us.
I read that line twice.
When you need us.
I thought of college.
Graduation.
Job interviews.
Moving apartments alone.
Sick days.
Car repairs.
Tuition deadlines.
When exactly had I been allowed to need them?
I didn’t answer.
Monday morning, something unexpected happened.
My boss, Natalie Reed, asked me into her office.
I assumed I had made an error.
Instead, she closed the door and smiled.
“We’re creating a new financial reporting team.”
I sat straighter.
“Okay.”
“I want you on it.”
My heart jumped.
“It comes with more responsibility.”
“I can handle that.”
“I think you can.”
She slid a document toward me.
The salary increase made me stare.
“Seriously?”
Natalie laughed.
“Do accountants normally joke about numbers?”
I smiled.
“No.”
“Think about it.”
“I don’t need to.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I want it.”
Her smile widened.
“Good.”
I walked back to my desk feeling lighter than I had in months.
My first instinct was to call Mom.
That instinct hurt.
I took out my phone.
Then I called Professor Hart instead.
She answered on the second ring.
“Paige?”
“I got promoted.”
Her scream nearly blew out my speaker.
“That’s my student!”
I laughed so hard that coworkers looked over.
That night, Riley brought champagne.
We toasted in my unfinished living room.
“To calculators,” she said.
“To calculators.”
The following morning, I received a message from Aunt Melissa.
Thought you should know. Trevor was demoted yesterday. Your parents are freaking out.
I stared at it.
For years, every Trevor victory had become a family holiday.
Now he had failed.
And somehow, I knew before anyone contacted me that they would find a way to make it my problem.
Two hours later, an unfamiliar number appeared on my phone.
I answered because I thought it was work.
Trevor’s voice came through.
“Paige.”
I nearly hung up.
May you like
Then he said,
“I need a favor.”
