Chapter 1: The Bowl on the Bathroom Floor
“Eat it. If you don’t, you won’t get dinner.””
I was twelve years old when my stepmother made me choose between eating dog food and going hungry.
The bowl sat between my knees on the cold bathroom tiles. A few pieces of dry kibble floated in cloudy water, slowly turning soft. The smell made my stomach twist.
But I was more afraid of Victoria than I was disgusted by the food.
From the other side of the bathroom door, I could hear laughter.
Not mine.
Not my father's.
Hers.
Victoria was sitting at the kitchen table with her son, Brandon, eating the steak my father had paid for.
While I sat on the bathroom floor, staring at a bowl meant for our golden retriever.
"Mom, can I have more mashed potatoes?"" Brandon asked.
"Of course, sweetheart."" Victoria's voice was warm and affectionate.
"You need to eat well. You're growing.""
I swallowed.
My stomach hurt so badly that I pressed both hands against it.
Then I heard Brandon ask something that made my chest tighten.
"Is Emily still eating the dog food?""
Victoria laughed.
"She'd better be. I'm not wasting perfectly good food on a girl who can't behave.""
I lowered my head.
My name is Emily Carter.
My mother died when I was seven. After two years of raising me alone, my father, Daniel, married Victoria.
At first, I thought she was wonderful.
She brought me pink dresses, braided my hair, and called me sweetheart. She even promised my father she would love me as her own daughter.
But the woman who smiled in front of my father was not the woman who lived with me.
When Dad traveled for work, Victoria changed.
She stopped buying the groceries he requested. She took away my allowance. She made me clean the house while Brandon played video games.
And whenever I complained, she reminded me that I was lucky she hadn't sent me away.
The bathroom door suddenly opened.
Victoria stood there wearing a silk blouse and a diamond necklace.
Her perfume filled the small room.
"Why haven't you finished?""
I looked at the bowl.
"I can't.""
Her eyebrows lifted.
"Excuse me?""
"Please, Victoria. I'm hungry, but I can't eat that.""
She folded her arms.
"You're always making everything difficult.""
"I didn't do anything.""
"Don't lie to me.""
Her voice became sharper.
"You talked back to Brandon.""
I looked toward the kitchen.
"He took my cookies. I only told him Dad bought them for me.""
Victoria stepped closer.
"Everything in this house belongs to me now.""
I stared at her.
"But Dad bought—"
"Your father is never here. I'm the one who takes care of this household. You should be grateful.""
She picked up the bowl and placed it directly in front of me.
"Finish it.""
I shook my head.
Victoria leaned down until her face was inches from mine.
"Listen carefully, Emily. If you tell your father anything about what happens here, I'll make sure he believes you're the problem. Do you understand?""
My lips trembled.
She smiled.
"Good girl.""
Then she closed the door.
I stayed there for another hour.
Eventually, I pretended to eat enough to satisfy her. When she finally let me out, I went upstairs without saying a word.
My bedroom was the smallest in the house.
Brandon had the master-sized bedroom at the end of the hallway because Victoria said a boy needed more space.
My drawings had disappeared from the walls.
My mother's photographs had been removed from the living room.
Victoria said they made the house feel sad.
But I had one picture she hadn't found.
It was hidden inside my pillowcase.
In it, my mother was holding me at the beach. Her hair blew across her face, and I was laughing with my arms wrapped around her neck.
I pressed the picture against my chest.
"Mom," I whispered, "I don't know how much longer I can do this.""
I cried quietly until I fell asleep.
The following morning, I woke before sunrise.
I was thirsty, so I went downstairs for water.
That's when I heard Victoria talking on the phone.
"Yes, Daniel, everything is fine.""
I stopped halfway down the stairs.
Daniel was my father.
"I bought the groceries yesterday. The electricity bill is paid. Emily is doing wonderfully.""
I frowned.
The refrigerator was almost empty.
The electricity had been turned off twice that month.
And my shoes had holes in the soles.
My father sent money every month. He always told me he worked hard so I would never have to worry.
Victoria continued.
"She's adjusting. You know how children are after losing their mother.""
I gripped the railing.
My father said something.
Victoria laughed.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm using the money exactly how you asked. For the family.""
I wanted to run downstairs and grab the phone.
But I was afraid.
After the call ended, Victoria walked into the kitchen.
I quickly slipped behind the wall.
She opened the refrigerator, removed a carton of milk, and poured herself a glass.
Then she called Brandon.
"Sweetheart! Breakfast!""
He came downstairs wearing expensive headphones.
"Can we order pancakes?""
"Of course.""
"What about Emily?""
Victoria glanced toward the staircase.
"Emily can make herself toast.""
Brandon laughed.
I went back upstairs.
At school, my teacher, Mrs. Reynolds, noticed I wasn't eating lunch.
"Emily, are you feeling sick?""
I shook my head.
"Just not hungry.""
She looked at the sandwich in my lunchbox.
"Would you like me to heat this up?""
I hesitated.
Victoria had packed only two slices of plain bread.
"No, thank you.""
Mrs. Reynolds studied my face.
"Are things okay at home?""
I opened my mouth.
For one second, I almost told her everything.
Then I remembered Victoria's warning.
Instead, I nodded.
"Everything's fine.""
That afternoon, Victoria and Brandon went shopping.
I knew because I heard them arguing about which luxury store to visit.
"Mom, I want the new gaming console," Brandon said.
"You'll get it, sweetheart.""
"Can we get the expensive one?""
Victoria laughed.
"Your stepfather's money isn't going anywhere.""
I waited until their car disappeared.
Then I went downstairs.
I wasn't looking for evidence.
I was looking for food.
I searched the pantry, hoping to find crackers or cereal.
Behind a stack of old magazines, I discovered a brown envelope.
My father's handwriting was on the front.
I recognized it immediately.
The envelope was marked:
*HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES — NOVEMBER*
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside were several bank statements.
I didn't understand everything, but I knew enough to recognize the amounts.
My father had transferred thousands of dollars into the household account.
The withdrawals were enormous.
Designer boutiques.
Luxury restaurants.
Weekend hotels.
Spa treatments.
There were even payments to a jewelry store.
I turned another page.
Then another.
My stomach tightened.
There was barely anything listed for groceries, school expenses, or household bills.
At the bottom of one statement, I noticed something strange.
A transfer had been made to an account under Victoria's name.
$18,500.
I stared at the number.
That was more money than my father had ever spent on me in an entire year.
The front door suddenly opened.
I shoved the statement into the envelope.
But before I could put it back, Brandon walked into the kitchen.
He was holding his phone and chewing gum.
"What are you doing?""
I froze.
"Nothing.""
His eyes dropped to the envelope.
He walked closer.
"Is that Dad's bank statement?""
I tried to hide it behind my back.
Brandon grabbed the envelope.
"Hey!""
He stepped away, laughing as he opened it.
His expression changed when he saw the pages.
Then he looked at me.
"How long have you been stealing from us?""
I stared at him.
"What?""
He raised the bank statement.
"You heard me.""
I shook my head.
"I didn't take anything.""
Brandon smiled.
"That's what I thought you'd say.""
Then he pulled out his phone.
"Mom, you need to come home. Emily found the account.""
And suddenly, I realized something.
Brandon wasn't surprised by what I had discovered.
May you like
He already knew.
And he was about to make sure I paid for finding it.
