Chapter 1
The sound of my stepmother's hand striking my face was so loud that my father heard it from the other side of the house.
I stumbled backward, catching myself against the bedroom dresser.
For a second, everything went blurry.
My cheek burned.
My ears rang.
And the woman who had promised to love me like her own child stood in front of me with her hand raised again.
"You disgusting little liar!" Claire screamed.
Before she could hit me a second time, my father appeared in the doorway.
He moved so quickly that I barely saw him cross the room.
He caught Claire's wrist and pulled her away from me.
"WHY DID YOU HIT MY SON?"
His voice shook the walls.
Claire struggled against his grip.
"Daniel, let me go!"
He released her immediately but stepped between us.
Behind Claire stood her seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya.
She was crying.
Or at least she looked like she was.
Her hands covered her mouth.
Her shoulders trembled.
And every few seconds, she glanced at me with an expression I couldn't understand.
Fear.
Guilt.
Or something else.
My name is Michael Carter.
I'm seventeen years old.
And until that afternoon, I believed the worst thing about living in a blended family was feeling like a stranger inside my own home.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
My father, Daniel Carter, married Claire eight months earlier.
My biological mother, Angela, died when I was eleven.
For years, Dad and I had been a team.
He made breakfast before leaving for work.
I helped him repair things around our old house.
Every Sunday, we visited Mom's grave.
Sometimes we talked.
Sometimes we sat quietly.
But I never doubted that I belonged.
Then Claire entered our lives.
She was beautiful, charming, and confident.
Dad met her at a charity fundraiser organized by his engineering company.
She had a daughter my age.
At first, the idea of having a bigger family sounded wonderful.
I thought Maya might become the sister I'd never had.
I imagined family dinners.
Movie nights.
Someone to joke with when Dad became too serious.
But the reality was different.
Claire smiled when Dad was watching.
When he left the room, her voice changed.
She complained about my clothes.
My grades.
My friends.
The way I ate.
The way I left my shoes near the door.
Nothing was ever good enough.
Maya was different.
She was popular at school, always surrounded by friends, and accustomed to getting whatever she wanted.
I tried to be friendly.
But after a few weeks, I noticed that she became angry whenever I refused to do something for her.
She asked me to cover for her when she stayed out late.
She wanted me to give her answers to assignments.
Once, she asked me to tell Claire that she had been studying with me when she was actually at a party.
I refused.
She didn't speak to me for three days.
Then she smiled again.
I should have recognized the warning.
The trouble started on a Friday afternoon.
Dad was downstairs finishing a work call.
I was in my bedroom preparing for a college entrance practice exam.
I had my laptop open.
My headphones rested beside me.
My phone was charging on the desk.
Then Maya walked in without knocking.
I looked up.
"Can you please knock?"
She closed the door behind her.
"We need to talk."
I frowned.
"About what?"
She crossed her arms.
"Did you tell your dad about Wednesday night?"
I felt my stomach tighten.
Wednesday night.
Maya had returned home after midnight.
Claire believed she was spending the evening at her friend's house.
But I had seen her get out of a car driven by a boy Claire had specifically forbidden her from seeing.
I hadn't told anyone.
"No," I answered.
She stepped closer.
"Don't lie."
"I'm not lying."
"Then why did Mom suddenly ask where I was?"
"I don't know."
Maya narrowed her eyes.
"You're always trying to make me look bad."
I closed my laptop.
"Maya, I haven't said anything."
She pointed toward my desk.
"Give me your phone."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"I want to see whether you recorded me coming home."
I shook my head.
"No."
Her expression hardened.
"Michael, give it to me."
"It's my phone."
She reached toward it.
I stood and moved away.
"Stop."
She grabbed the edge of my desk.
"Why are you hiding something?"
"I'm not hiding anything. Get out of my room."
She stepped closer again.
I moved backward.
"Maya, seriously. Leave."
She suddenly raised her voice.
"Don't tell me what to do!"
I reached for the door.
Before I could open it, she shouted.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!"
I froze.
"What?"
She screamed again.
"MOM!"
My heart began pounding.
Claire came running upstairs.
She entered my room and found Maya crying.
"Maya? What's wrong?"
Maya pointed at me.
"He grabbed me!"
I stared at her.
"What?"
She covered her face.
"He came into my room and grabbed me!"
My stomach dropped.
"That's not true!"
Claire turned toward me.
Her expression twisted with rage.
"You touched my daughter?"
"No!"
She stepped forward.
"How dare you!"
"Claire, listen—"
Her hand struck my face before I could finish.
I stumbled against the dresser.
Then Dad appeared.
He grabbed Claire's wrist.
"Why did you hit my son?"
Claire pointed at me.
"Maya said he went into her room and grabbed her!"
I could barely breathe.
"I NEVER touched her!"
Dad turned toward me.
I continued desperately.
"She came into MY room after I told her to leave!"
Claire laughed angrily.
"Of course you'd say that!"
Maya began sobbing louder.
"Mom, I don't want to talk about it!"
Dad raised one hand.
"Nobody says another word."
The room fell silent.
I had never heard his voice sound like that.
He looked at my red cheek.
Then at Claire.
Then at Maya.
"Come downstairs."
Claire protested.
"Daniel, we need to protect Maya!"
"And we need to know what happened."
He led us into the living room.
Our house had security cameras in the hallways and near the entrances.
Dad installed them after several neighborhood burglaries.
One camera faced the upstairs hallway.
Its view included my bedroom door.
Dad opened the security program on his computer.
His fingers moved quickly.
Claire stood beside Maya.
I remained near the sofa, shaking.
Dad selected the recording from twenty minutes earlier.
The video began.
Maya appeared in the hallway.
She walked directly into my bedroom.
Several minutes passed.
Then the camera's doorway view showed Maya standing just inside my room while I backed away from her.
She moved toward me.
I stepped backward again.
My hands stayed at my sides.
Then I approached the doorway, trying to get past her.
She suddenly shouted and rushed into the hall.
Seconds later, Claire appeared.
Dad watched the footage twice.
Then he slowly turned toward Maya.
"Why did you lie?"
Maya's lips trembled.
"I..."
Claire immediately moved in front of her.
"She's my daughter!"
Dad looked at his wife.
His expression was colder than anything I'd ever seen.
"And Michael is MY son."
Claire opened her mouth.
Dad continued.
"You hit him without hearing his side."
The room became painfully silent.
Dad pointed toward the front door.
"If you still defend this lie, leave with her."
Claire went pale.
Maya started crying harder.
I stood frozen beside the computer.
Then something caught my eye.
Another recording.
A clip from the upstairs hallway.
It had been saved automatically several hours earlier.
And the thumbnail showed Maya standing outside my bedroom with someone I recognized.
Someone who had no reason to be there.
I leaned toward the screen.
My stomach turned.
"Dad..."
He looked at me.
"What is it, son?"
I pointed with a trembling finger.
"There's another recording."
Dad moved toward the computer.
May you like
Claire suddenly stopped crying.
And when she saw the timestamp, all the color drained from her face.
