Chapter 3

I drove the two hours to my parents' house on Saturday morning. I didn't call ahead. I wanted the element of surprise on my side. When I pulled into the familiar driveway, my mother' s car was there, but my father' s was gone. Perfect.

My mother opened the door, her face a mask of surprise that quickly morphed into a beaming smile. "Chloe! What are you doing here? You should have called!"

"I was in the area for a work thing and wanted to say hi," I lied smoothly. "And to see the famous renovation."

"Oh, it's just a mess right now," she said, waving her hand dismissively as she led me inside. "But come in, come in! It's so good to see you."

The moment we were in the living room, her focus shifted. She didn't ask about my job or about David. She went straight for the one thing that mattered to her. "Honey, you know, that twenty thousand was a huge help, truly. But your father and I were looking at the quotes, and everything is so much more expensive than we thought."

I kept my face neutral, taking a seat on the couch I' d bought for them five years ago. "Is that so?"

"It is," she said, sitting opposite me, her expression turning serious. "We were thinking... maybe it would be better if you just gave us a bit more, to make sure it gets done right. You're doing so well, and we just want the house to be perfect for... well, for the future."

I felt a surge of cold fury. The audacity was breathtaking. "Mom, I just gave you twenty thousand dollars. My savings took a big hit." It was another lie, but a necessary one.

Her face fell, a carefully crafted look of disappointment and hurt covering her features. "I know, I know. It's just... I regret not pushing you to buy this house for us years ago instead of just helping with the down payment. We wouldn't have to worry so much now. We're getting older, Chloe. It' s a lot of pressure."

The guilt trip was so familiar, a classic from her playbook. In my past life, it would have worked. I would have felt ashamed, selfish. Now, I just saw the gears turning, the pure, unadulterated greed in her eyes. She wasn't thinking about her future, she was thinking about Liam's.

"So," she said, leaning forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I was thinking. You have that investment account you set up, the one for emergencies. Why don't you let your father and me manage that for you? We have a friend who's a financial advisor, he could make it grow much faster. And we could just borrow from it as we need for the house. It would be so much simpler."

It was the final confirmation. She wanted control. She wanted access to everything. She wanted to bleed me dry.

"I'll think about it, Mom," I said, my voice quiet.

I excused myself to use the bathroom. The kitchen was indeed a mess, with plastic sheets covering the counters and floors. But the demolition seemed haphazard, not like a professional job. It looked like someone had just taken a crowbar to a few cabinets to make it look convincing. While she was distracted by a phone call, I made a detour. I walked down the hall to the guest bedroom, the one that was supposed to be mine when I visited.

The door was closed. I put my hand on the knob and turned. It was locked.

A locked door in my own parents' house. In the room that was supposed to be for me. I stood there for a long moment, the cold metal of the doorknob under my hand. I didn't need to see inside. I already knew what I would find. A crib. A changing table. A room for a little boy. A room for the son who had replaced me.

I walked back into the living room, my expression calm. My mother was off the phone, smiling at me. I looked at her, at the woman who gave birth to me, and I saw a stranger. A predator. The last bit of warmth I might have held for her, the last flicker of daughterly affection, died in that moment. It was time to stop thinking and start acting.