I looked at my reflection in the dark kitchen window—bruised cheekbone, split lip, eyes that had died and come back to life all in a week. What was stopping me?
“Why not?” I said, my voice steadier than my pulse. “Fine. Let’s meet in Tokyo.”
His chuckle was warm, so different from the cold laughter I’d grown used to. “Tokyo Disneyland. You’ve been waiting twenty years, right?”
“Twenty years too late, but maybe just in time.” I hung up before I could change my mind.
I turned and nearly jumped. Mike was standing in the hallway, eyes narrowed.
“Tokyo? What the hell are you mumbling about? Who were you talking to?”
I slipped my phone into my pocket, calm as I could. “Nothing. Just the travel agency confirming your booking for tomorrow. Everything’s arranged.”
Nico stepped in behind him, scratching his head. “And our things? Passports? The hotel?”
“All packed. Ready to go.” I forced a smile. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”
They exchanged a glance—arrogant, satisfied. “Good,” Mike said. “We expect you to stay here and behave once we’re gone. Guard the house. Don’t embarrass us.”
“Of course,” I said. My voice was sugar, but my chest felt like fireworks. “And don’t worry. Maybe you’ll find a cute keychain for me.”
Nico snorted, patting my shoulder like I was a faithful dog. “Sure, we’ll get you a keychain.” He turned away, already done with me.
The next morning, the house buzzed with fake happiness. Luggage dragged across marble, laughter echoing off walls that would soon be empty. Sasha twirled in the hallway, all perfume and pretend sweetness.
“Sis,” she purred, pressing a kiss to my cheek that made my skin crawl. “Don’t worry, we’ll send you photos from the castle. Micah’s going to love it.”
I nodded, hands folded to keep them from shaking. But then my eyes caught something on her wrist. A thin gold bracelet with a small ruby clasp. My father’s bracelet. The last thing he’d given me.
“That’s mine,” I said quietly.
Sasha’s smile didn’t waver. “This? But Mike gave it to me. It looks better on me anyway.”
My daughter’s voice cut through my protest before it even left my throat. “Mom, don’t be dramatic. Grandpa’s dead. Let her have it.”
I waited for someone—anyone—to stand by me. Nico? Mike? But they just looked past me like I was a stain on the carpet. So I swallowed the anger, pressing it down until it turned cold.
“Of course,” I said softly. “Keep it.”