She’s claiming Dad signed the deed to her. Says I’m banned, and she’s told the local police I’m not allowed on the property.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Time to show our cards, Margaret replied. I’ve got all the paperwork ready.
Before I could even put the phone down, another message popped up—this time from a different number.
Lily.
Mom told me what you did, her text said. You deserve it. You know you’ve never been part of this family anyway.
I stared at the words, a mix of anger and bitter amusement bubbling up.
Lily was three years younger than me and had been Victoria’s favorite weapon from the beginning. When they first came into our lives, she’d been this quiet, wide-eyed girl clutching a stuffed rabbit, looking at everything in our house like she couldn’t believe it was real. Somewhere along the way, Victoria had turned her into an echo: same cutting tone, same tilted head when she lied, same entitlement carefully cultivated like a hothouse flower.
Every achievement of mine had been overshadowed by Lily’s needs. If I got an A, Lily got a party for getting a B. If I won an essay competition, the conversation quickly shifted to Lily’s recital next month. Holidays had been arranged around Lily’s schedule, Lily’s sports, Lily’s whims. When Mom died, that imbalance turned into a canyon.
I hadn’t even known about the graduation party Lily accused me of ruining until I saw the photos on social media. Smiling faces. Balloons. A banner that read CONGRATS, LILY! WE’RE SO PROUD OF YOU! My father and Victoria, flanking her, beaming.
My name had never come up.
I put my phone face-down on the desk, jaw tightening. I’d learned a long time ago that engaging emotionally with their provocations was like trying to argue with the tide. It just dragged you under.
The phone vibrated again.
This time, it was my father calling.
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, then answered. “Hi, Dad.”
“Alexandra,” he began, and even through the phone I could hear how tired he sounded. “Please don’t make this difficult.”
There it was. Not, “Is what Victoria said true?” Not, “Are you okay?” Just an exhausted plea for me to fall into the role I’d always been assigned: the reasonable one, the one who swallowed her hurt to keep the peace.