"Carmela, you can pick any room you like. Think of it as our way of making up for lost time."
My best friend glanced at the nauseatingly pink decor, wrinkled her nose, then turned toward a much larger, brighter bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Then we'll take that one! It's big enough for me and Yanna!"
Kian's jaw dropped. "You—you've got to be kidding! That's our parents' room!"
I flashed a sunny smile at Aunt Laura.
"Mom, you did say any room, right? You're not taking that back now, are you?"
Her mouth twitched, but after a moment, she nodded helplessly.
"Good! We've been in the car all day—we're exhausted. You and Dad should rest early too!"
And before anyone could respond, I grabbed my friend, shut the door with a satisfying bang, and left the whole family frozen in place.
From that day on, our new life officially began.
For the next week, Carmela and I went on a glorious shopping spree.
After eight years of scrimping and suffering, it felt heavenly to finally buy whatever we wanted without looking at price tags, without hesitation, just enjoying retail therapy.
We came back with an absurd amount of shopping bags—several carloads' worth—dressed like two pampered heiresses on a spree.
Every time Trisha made some sour remark about us "wasting money," I shut her down with sharp, merciless comebacks.
When she couldn't win with words, she switched to tricks.
Day one, she pretended to be weak and "accidentally" dropped a vase from the upstairs balcony, aiming straight for us. Carmela caught it one-handed without even flinching.
Day two, she "accidentally" tipped over a pot of soup at the dining table—trying to burn my best friend. Carmela coolly flipped the pot back, and Trisha ended up shrieking in pain with scalded hands.
Day three, she slipped her own diamond necklace under our pillows, then brought the whole family in for a dramatic "thief reveal."
Unfortunately for her, I played the surveillance footage showing her sneaking into our room at midnight.
She was forced to backpedal, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes, claiming she just wanted to "surprise us with a gift."
After that series of defeats, even her thick skin couldn't save her. She went quiet—but we both knew she was plotting something worse.
Sure enough, a month later at the class meeting of our elite academy, she struck.
With red-rimmed eyes and a trembling voice, she introduced us to the class: