Chapter 1
"Take your filthy hands off my daughter!"
My father's voice shook the entire house.
But just seconds earlier, I had been standing in our living room, crying so hard I could barely breathe.
It was supposed to be a birthday celebration.
There were pink balloons hanging from the ceiling, a beautiful three-tier cake on the dining table, and mountains of expensive presents stacked beside the fireplace.
None of them were for me.
They were for my stepsister, Chloe.
And I had made the terrible mistake of asking for one small present.
Just one.
"Please, Vanessa," I whispered. "You promised I could have something too."
My stepmother's face twisted with anger.
"Do you ever stop begging?"
I lowered my eyes.
"I'm sorry. I just thought—"
"You thought what? That you deserve the same things as my daughter?"
Chloe stood beside the presents, holding a brand-new tablet.
She laughed.
"Mom, why is she always so embarrassing?"
Vanessa smiled at her.
"Because some children don't know their place."
I felt my throat tighten.
I was only ten years old.
I didn't understand why my father had married someone who seemed to hate everything about me.
I didn't understand why Chloe received expensive dresses, toys, and jewelry while I was expected to be grateful for leftovers.
But I knew one thing.
I missed my mother.
She had died three years earlier, and sometimes I still dreamed about her holding me close and telling me I was her favorite little miracle.
That morning, I had whispered a birthday wish into my pillow.
I wished someone would remember that I was important too.
Instead, Vanessa grabbed my arm.
Hard.
"You're ruining Chloe's party!"
"You're hurting me!"
"Then stop fighting!"
She dragged me across the living room.
My shoes scraped against the polished floor.
I tried to pull away, but her fingers tightened.
Guests were gathered in the backyard.
Loud music played through the speakers.
Nobody inside seemed willing to help.
Vanessa pulled me toward the open front door.
"Get outside!"
"Please!"
I stumbled against the doorway.
My small blue gift bag slipped from my hand.
It was the bag my mother had given me on my seventh birthday.
I had kept it for three years because the little silver stars reminded me of her.
That morning, I had placed it beside the other gift bags, hoping Vanessa might put something inside.
She hadn't.
"I only asked for one birthday gift!" I cried.
Vanessa leaned close enough for me to smell her perfume.
"You deserve NOTHING from this family!"
My entire body went cold.
I looked behind her.
And suddenly stopped crying.
My father was standing in the hallway.
Marcus Bennett.
Tall, broad-shouldered, still wearing the navy polo shirt he had put on before leaving for work.
His eyes were fixed on Vanessa's hand around my arm.
He had returned much earlier than expected.
Vanessa didn't notice him.
She snatched my little gift bag from the floor and threw it onto the porch.
"Go join the trash where you belong!"
I reached for the doorframe.
"Please don't make me leave."
Vanessa raised her hand to shove me again.
But before she touched me, another hand caught her wrist.
"Take your hands off my daughter."
My father spoke quietly.
That somehow made him sound even angrier.
Vanessa spun around.
"Marcus!"
He removed her hand from my arm.
Then he pulled me behind him.
I grabbed his shirt and buried my face against his back.
"Daddy!"
"I'm here, sweetheart."
His voice broke.
"Nobody is putting you outside."
Vanessa immediately changed her expression.
"Oh, honey, you've misunderstood."
My father looked at the red marks forming on my arm.
"Have I?"
"She was being ungrateful!"
I flinched.
Vanessa pointed toward the presents.
"Chloe has been planning this party for weeks. Maya threw a tantrum because she wanted everything for herself."
"That's not true," I whispered.
Vanessa shot me a warning look.
My father noticed.
"Don't look at her like that."
Vanessa swallowed.
"Marcus, she's manipulating you."
He slowly turned toward the enormous pile of presents.
Designer shopping bags.
A new laptop.
A tablet.
Several expensive boxes.
Then he looked back at Vanessa.
"How much did you spend?"
She blinked.
"What?"
"On Chloe's birthday."
"That's not important right now."
"Answer me."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"She's my daughter. I wanted her to feel special."
My father reached into his pocket.
"Then why did you buy all of those things with MY card?"
The room fell silent.
Even Chloe stopped laughing.
My father held up his phone.
I could see a long list of charges.
Hundreds of dollars.
Thousands.
Vanessa's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
"I received a fraud alert," my father said. "That's why I came home."
"Marcus, I can explain."
"You spent more than eight thousand dollars in one week."
Vanessa stepped closer.
"We're married! What's yours is mine!"
My father's expression hardened.
"Then why was my daughter begging you for a birthday present?"
Vanessa opened her mouth again.
But I couldn't stay quiet anymore.
"Daddy?"
He turned immediately.
"Yes, baby?"
My voice trembled.
"Vanessa said you didn't want me here anymore."
For a moment, my father looked confused.
Then his face changed.
"What did you just say?"
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"She said you wished I had gone away with Mommy."
He stared at Vanessa.
I had never seen him look like that.
Not even when he received the phone call telling him my mother had died.
Vanessa backed away.
"She's lying!"
My father shook his head.
"No."
"Marcus—"
"No more."
He walked to the front door and opened it wide.
"Maya stays. YOU leave."
Vanessa stared at him.
"You can't be serious!"
"Pack your things."
"You're destroying our marriage over a spoiled child!"
My father took one step forward.
"That child is my daughter."
His voice shook.
"And you will never speak about her that way again."
Chloe started crying.
Vanessa pulled her close.
"Marcus, wait. You don't know everything!"
My father didn't answer.
He simply pointed toward the porch.
I watched Vanessa's face turn pale.
Then I remembered my gift bag.
It was still lying outside.
I stepped past my father to retrieve it.
Something inside made a soft rustling sound.
I looked down.
There was a sealed cream-colored envelope hidden beneath the paper lining.
My name was written across the front.
Maya Bennett.
I recognized the handwriting.
My heart began pounding.
It looked exactly like my mother's.
"Daddy?"
My father turned.
I held up the envelope.
"Why is Mommy's handwriting on this?"
He froze.
For the first time that afternoon, he looked genuinely frightened.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was inside my bag."
Vanessa suddenly screamed.
"Give me that!"
She lunged toward me.
My father stepped between us.
"Vanessa, stop!"
But she wasn't looking at him.
She was staring at the envelope.
Her hands trembled.
Her face had gone completely white.
And then she whispered something that made my father's eyes widen.
"Marcus, if you open that letter, everything will be over."
I looked down at my mother's handwriting.
Three years after her death, she had somehow found a way to speak to me.
And whatever she wanted to say was making my stepmother terrified.
My father reached for the envelope.
But Vanessa grabbed his arm.
"Please," she sobbed. "You don't understand what you've found."
My father looked directly into her eyes.
May you like
"Then it's time you told us."
And he broke the seal.
