Chapter 1: “Pay Me If You Want to Stay”
The slap came so hard that my head struck the kitchen cabinet, and before I could even catch my breath, my stepmother grabbed my wrist and demanded two thousand dollars.
“Pay me if you want to keep living here,” Vanessa said, her red fingernails digging into my skin.
“Otherwise, get your things and get out.””
For three seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I looked at the woman standing between me and the refrigerator, wearing my father's favorite silk robe, and said the words she hated most.
“I'm Dad's daughter. This is my home.””
Her expression changed instantly.
Vanessa had been waiting for me to challenge her.
And she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
My name is Emily Carter. I was seventeen when I discovered that the woman my father married had been hiding something far more dangerous than an affair or a secret bank account.
She had been hiding the truth about my mother's death.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
That morning began like almost every other morning since Vanessa moved into our house.
I came downstairs at seven, still wearing my school pajamas, and found her sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee. Her blond hair was perfectly curled, and her tablet rested beside a plate of untouched toast.
She didn't look up when I entered.
"You're late," she said.
"It's seven o'clock.""
"Exactly. Your father leaves at seven-thirty. You should have his breakfast ready.""
I stared at her.
"Dad makes his own breakfast.""
Vanessa slowly lifted her eyes.
"Your father works hard enough without coming home to a house where his daughter contributes nothing.""
I opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk.
"Then maybe you should ask me to help instead of acting like I'm your employee.""
Her coffee cup landed on the counter with a sharp clink.
"Excuse me?""
I poured my milk into a glass.
"You heard me.""
For a moment, the kitchen went quiet except for the refrigerator humming behind me.
Then Vanessa smiled.
It wasn't a warm smile. It was the kind she used when she wanted to remind me that she could hurt me without leaving a mark anyone else would notice.
"Your father has been very generous with you, Emily. A roof over your head. Food.
Clothes. A private school. You have no idea how expensive you are.""
"I'm his daughter.""
"And I'm his wife.""
She stood, straightened her robe, and walked toward me.
"Which means I help make the decisions in this household. Starting today, you're going to pay me two thousand dollars every month.""
I nearly dropped my glass.
"What?""
"Two thousand. Room, food, utilities, and household expenses.""
"That's ridiculous! I'm seventeen. I don't even have a full-time job!""
"Then find one.""
"My dad would never agree to this.""
Her smile disappeared.
"Your father agrees with me about more things than you realize.""
I tried to walk past her.
She stepped into my path.
"Where do you think you're going?""
"To school.""
"Not until we've finished talking.""
"I have an exam today.""
"And I have bills to pay.""
I laughed once, unable to believe what I was hearing.
"Dad pays the mortgage. He pays the bills. You don't even work!""
The words had barely left my mouth when her hand struck my face.
The sound cracked through the kitchen.
My glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except a high ringing in my ears. My cheek burned. My shoulder pressed against the cabinet, and I tasted something metallic where my teeth had caught the inside of my lip.
Vanessa leaned closer.
"Never speak to me like that again.""
I stared at her in disbelief.
"You hit me.""
"Because you were disrespectful.""
"You actually hit me!""
She pointed toward the hallway.
"Two thousand dollars. Every month. If you can't pay, you can leave.""
I rubbed my cheek, trying to understand how a woman who had smiled for photographs at our wedding anniversary dinner could look at me as though I were a stranger she wanted to throw into the street.
My mother had died three years earlier.
After that, Dad had become quieter. He worked longer hours, stopped cooking elaborate Sunday dinners, and sometimes sat in the living room with an old photograph in his hands long after midnight.
I had been fourteen when Vanessa entered our lives.
At first, she seemed wonderful.
She brought groceries when Dad forgot to shop. She helped me choose a dress for my school dance. She even cried at the memorial service for my mother.
But after she married Dad, little things began to change.
My mother's photographs disappeared from the hallway.
Her favorite blue mug vanished from the kitchen.
The guest room where she used to paint became Vanessa's dressing room.
Every time I complained, Vanessa would touch my shoulder and tell me I was struggling to accept change.
Then she started telling Dad that I was becoming difficult.
That I was jealous.
That I resented seeing him happy.
And because Dad was terrified of losing another person he loved, he believed her more often than he should have.
I bent down to pick up the broken glass.
"Leave it," Vanessa ordered.
I froze.
She folded her arms.
"You're going to school. And when you come home, I expect an answer about the money.""
I grabbed my backpack and walked toward the front door.
"Emily.""
I stopped.
"If you tell your father what happened this morning, I'll tell him you threatened me.""
I turned around.
"You slapped me!""
"And who's he going to believe? His unstable daughter or his wife?""
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I left.
At school, I spent the entire morning pretending everything was normal. I answered questions in English class, copied equations in algebra, and smiled when my friend Lily asked why my cheek looked red.
"I walked into a cabinet," I lied.
Lily narrowed her eyes.
"Emily, cabinets don't leave fingerprints.""
I looked away.
"Please don't ask.""
She didn't push me. But during lunch, she slid her phone across the table.
"Look at this.""
It was a photograph of the teddy bear sitting on my bedroom shelf.
My teddy bear.
Its brown fur had faded over the years, one black button eye had been replaced with a slightly larger one, and a small blue ribbon circled its neck.
I'd had it since I was four.
My mother gave it to me on my first night in our old house because I was afraid of sleeping alone. After she died, I carried it everywhere until I was nearly sixteen.
Then Vanessa started mocking me for keeping a child's toy.
I finally put it on the shelf.
"Why are you showing me that?"" I asked.
Lily enlarged the picture.
"Because you told me last week that you wanted to record the sounds in your room after someone kept going through your things.""
I stared at the screen.
The photograph showed the teddy bear from the front. Its ribbon was slightly crooked, and a tiny patch near its left ear looked darker than the surrounding fur.
Lily had helped me install a miniature recording device inside it two months earlier.
I had done it after discovering that someone had been entering my bedroom while I was at school. My jewelry box had been moved. My desk drawers had been opened. Once, I'd returned to find my mother's old letters scattered across the floor.
I suspected Vanessa.
But I had never managed to prove it.
The device was small, with enough battery life to capture several hours of sound. It was supposed to help me identify whoever was going through my things.
I'd forgotten it was even there.
Until Lily asked a question that made my stomach tighten.
"Have you checked the recordings lately?""
"No.""
"Why not?""
"Because I thought whoever it was had stopped.""
Lily tilted her head.
"Then maybe you should listen.""
I looked at the photograph again.
My teddy bear had been sitting on that shelf every day.
Facing the door.
Listening.
I suddenly remembered something else.
The previous night, Vanessa had entered my bedroom while I was in the bathroom. She claimed she was looking for a laundry basket, but when I returned, she was standing beside my shelf.
She had been holding the teddy bear.
When I asked what she was doing, she'd smiled and put it back.
"Nothing, sweetheart. I was just cleaning.""
At the time, I hadn't thought much of it.
Now, I felt cold all over.
I opened the recording app on my phone.
There were seventeen saved audio files.
Most were ordinary sounds: my bedroom door opening, footsteps in the hallway, the faint television downstairs.
But one file was different.
It was recorded at 11:43 p.m. the previous Thursday.
The duration was six minutes and twelve seconds.
I pressed play.
At first, there was only the soft scrape of a door.
Then Vanessa's voice came through the speaker.
"Did you bring it?""
Another voice answered.
A man's voice.
"Yes. But I still don't understand why you're keeping it here.""
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Vanessa laughed quietly.
"Because nobody looks inside a child's teddy bear.""
I stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
Then the man said something that made the blood drain from my face.
"Does Robert know what happened to his first wife?""
And Vanessa replied, "Robert knows exactly what I want him to know.""
I listened to the sentence again.
Then again.
My father's name was Robert Carter.
And my mother had died in a car accident.
At least, that was what I'd been told.
The bell rang, but I barely heard it.
Lily reached across the table and grabbed my hand.
"Emily? What's wrong?""
I turned the phone toward her.
She listened to the final seconds.
Her face changed.
"Who is that man?""
"I don't know.""
"What's he talking about?""
I swallowed hard.
"My mother.""
For the first time in three years, I wondered whether my mother's death had been an accident at all.
And when I looked at the teddy bear's photograph again, I realized something even more frightening.
If Vanessa knew about the recording device, she might already know what it had captured.
Which meant I had to get home before she discovered that her secrets were no longer safe.
Because tonight, I intended to ask her one question.
May you like
What had she really done to my mother?
And I had no idea that before I could ask it, my father would walk through our front door and watch Vanessa turn my entire life upside down.
