Chapter 1
"Give me two thousand dollars for Jordan's new phone, or get out of my house!"
My stepmother shoved a laundry basket full of my clothes into my arms so violently that I stumbled backward.
A pair of jeans slipped over the edge. My college acceptance letter, which I had carefully tucked between my sweaters, fluttered onto the hardwood floor.
Denise stepped on it.
Deliberately.
I stared at her champagne-colored satin blouse, her perfectly styled black bob, and the expensive diamond bracelet my father had given her for their anniversary.
Then I looked down at the letter beneath her heel.
"Please," I whispered. "That's my college money."
She folded her arms.
"And Jordan needs a new phone."
"Jordan is twenty years old!"
"Watch your tone, Jasmine."
I was nineteen.
I had spent the previous fourteen months working evenings at a neighborhood restaurant, taking weekend shifts at a grocery store, and saving nearly every dollar I earned.
That money was supposed to help me start nursing school in the fall.
I had already been accepted into a competitive program at a university in Atlanta.
My first tuition deposit was due in twelve days.
And Denise wanted me to hand over two thousand dollars because her son had smashed his expensive phone during an argument with his girlfriend.
"No," I said.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?"
"I said no. I'm not giving him my college money."
She snatched another sweater from the sofa and threw it into my basket.
"Then you can find somewhere else to live."
My throat tightened.
"Dad would never agree to this."
Denise laughed.
"Your father isn't here, sweetheart."
She loved calling me sweetheart whenever she wanted to humiliate me.
"Besides, your father understands that real families support each other."
I looked at the photographs hanging above the fireplace.
There was one of my father holding me on my sixth birthday.
Another showed my late mother smiling beside us at the beach.
Denise had moved that photograph to the hallway after marrying Dad.
She said it made guests uncomfortable.
Now she was trying to move me out of the house too.
I bent to retrieve my acceptance letter.
Denise pushed the laundry basket against my chest.
"Stop wasting time. You have ten minutes."
Tears blurred my vision.
I hadn't cried when she told me to clean Jordan's room.
I hadn't cried when she threw away the birthday card my grandmother had mailed me.
I hadn't even cried when she accused me of stealing her necklace, only to discover it inside her own jewelry box.
But this was different.
This was my future.
And she was threatening to take everything away because I refused to buy her grown son another luxury phone.
I walked toward the front door.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
"Why is my daughter carrying her clothes?"
I froze.
My father stood in the entrance, still wearing his black T-shirt and work pants.
Marcus Carter.
Forty-three years old.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and usually calm enough to settle an argument without raising his voice.
But something about his expression made Denise straighten immediately.
"Marcus!" she exclaimed. "You're home early."
Dad ignored her.
He looked at the basket in my arms.
Then he looked at my face.
"Jasmine?"
I tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
His expression changed.
"Why are you crying?"
Denise stepped forward.
"She's being dramatic. She refuses to help this family."
Dad slowly turned toward her.
"Help this family how?"
"Jordan needs a replacement phone, and Jasmine has plenty of money saved."
I couldn't stay silent.
"She wants two thousand dollars for Jordan's phone!"
Dad stared at Denise.
Then he looked back at me.
"Two thousand dollars?"
I nodded.
"She said if I wouldn't give it to him, I had to leave."
For several seconds, Dad didn't move.
Then he asked Denise a question in a voice I had never heard before.
"You demanded my daughter's college savings for your grown son?"
Denise rolled her eyes.
"Oh, Marcus. Don't make it sound so terrible."
"Answer me."
"Jordan deserves something nice!"
Dad took the laundry basket from my trembling arms and placed it gently beside the sofa.
Then he picked up my acceptance letter.
He noticed the muddy mark Denise's shoe had left across the university seal.
His jaw tightened.
"Jasmine worked for that money."
"So what?" Denise snapped. "Jordan is family too."
"Then you buy him the phone."
Her mouth fell open.
"Excuse me?"
"My daughter isn't his bank."
Denise stepped closer.
"You're choosing her over my son?"
Dad looked at me.
Then he looked directly at his wife.
"I'm choosing to protect my child from someone who thinks she can throw her out of her own home."
Denise's face reddened.
"This is my house too!"
Dad pointed toward the front door.
"And if anyone leaves tonight, it won't be my daughter."
A terrible silence followed.
I wanted to feel relieved.
I wanted to believe the nightmare was over.
But I had been hiding something from Dad.
Something I had discovered only twenty minutes earlier.
And I knew Denise was terrified I would tell him.
My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket.
Another notification.
Another warning.
I pulled it out with shaking hands.
"Dad?"
He turned toward me.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
I showed him the banking alert.
"She already transferred some of my money."
His expression went completely still.
Denise lunged toward me.
"Give me that phone!"
Dad stepped between us.
"Don't touch her."
Then he took my phone and studied the notification.
His eyes moved across the screen.
Slowly, he raised his head.
"How much did you take?"
Denise said nothing.
I watched her carefully arranged expression fall apart.
Her lips trembled.
Her eyes darted toward the staircase.
And from somewhere upstairs, I heard Jordan's bedroom door open.
Dad repeated his question.
"Denise. How much of my daughter's money did you steal?"
She swallowed.
Then she whispered something that made my stomach turn.
"It's not what you think."
At that moment, Jordan appeared at the top of the stairs holding a shopping bag from an expensive electronics store.
He looked down at us.
Then he smiled.
May you like
"Mom, did Jasmine finally pay the rest?"
And I realized the money Denise had already taken was only the beginning.
