Chapter 3

When I returned to the house, Mara stopped me halfway down the hall.

"Pack up your room tonight," she ordered. "Liora's starting at Veridian next week. Her parents' place in the suburbs is too far of a commute, so she's moving in."

I followed her gaze. The hallway was already cluttered with blush-pink bedding and a freshly unboxed velvet vanity set.

"Where is she sleeping?" I asked.

"In your bedroom, obviously. We don't exactly have a guest suite."

I froze. "Then where am I supposed to sleep?"

Mara pointed toward the back of the hallway. "Just clear out a corner in the utility room. We can squeeze a folding cot in there by the water heater. Liora is our esteemed guest; you can compromise."

The utility room. It was a cramped storage closet packed with forgotten winter coats and peeling wallpaper that smelled faintly of mildew.

Whenever Liora came for weekend sleepovers when we were kids, I was relegated to a cot in that exact room. Back then, Mara would stroke my hair and coo, "Our Elowen is so agreeable."

I honestly believed that being agreeable would eventually earn me a crumb of her love. It took me twenty-two years to realize that my "reward" for compromising was the expectation that I would do it forever.

"No," I said. It was the first time I had ever refused her.

Mara's expression instantly hardened. "Excuse me? Liora is stepping into a demanding career. She needs proper rest. You don't even have a job lined up. Does it really matter what ceiling you stare at?"

"It's my room," I whispered.

Mara let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "What do you mean, your room? We own this house. Everything you have is what we've given you. Why are you being so difficult?"

"What if I told you I found a job?" I asked, my throat tight. "A better one than Liora's?"

Mara rolled her eyes. "Elowen, it's one thing to lack ambition, but don't fabricate petty lies just because you're jealous."

From the living room, Toren let out an exasperated sigh. "Lord, if you're going to throw a tantrum over a utility closet, then pack your bags and get out. Nobody is forcing you to stay."

I looked at them.

"Okay," I said.

They thought I was bluffing. Mara didn't even try to stop me, merely calling out to ensure I cleared out my drawers so I wouldn't delay Liora's move-in schedule.

An hour later, I was hauling my taped-up suitcase into a downtown hostel. Whenever the backpacker below me shifted, the iron frame swayed. Yet, lying there in the dark, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. That cheap mattress was the first space in my life that truly belonged to me.

The next morning, I returned to the house to gather the last of my belongings. When I pulled my jewelry box from the top shelf of the closet, my stomach plummeted.

Gran Sera's carved moonstone pendant was gone.

Gran was the only person in this family who had truly loved me. When I was nine and running a 103-degree fever, Mara refused to miss Liora's ballet recital. It was Gran who carried me to the emergency room in the rain.

She had wiped my forehead and whispered, "You're not brave because you don't cry, sweetheart. You just know nobody is coming to dry your tears."

The moonstone was my only anchor to her memory.

Panicking, I ran downstairs. "Mom, where is my moonstone pendant?"

Mara, who was humming as she arranged fresh hydrangeas, barely paused. "That chunky antique thing? I don't know where you stash your junk."

Just then, my phone buzzed. A photo popped up in our family group chat from Toren. He was hosting a networking lunch, introducing Liora to the Veridian executives.

In the photo, Liora was smiling radiantly in her new blazer. Resting elegantly against her collarbone—unmistakable with its silver lattice—was Gran's moonstone.

I shoved the phone screen into Mara's face.

Caught in the lie, my mother squared her shoulders, completely unremorseful. "Liora's neckline looked bare for such an important meeting, so I lent it to her. You just keep it locked in a box collecting dust anyway."

"That was Gran's," I choked out.

"I'm your mother!" Mara snapped. "I don't need a permission slip to move things in my own house. Gran adored Liora. If she saw you being this stingy, she'd be ashamed."

"No, she wouldn't." Tears broke free, spilling hot and jagged over my cheeks. "Gran was the only person in this miserable house who never forced me to give up my things just to keep Liora happy."

I spun toward the door, determined to march down to the restaurant. Mara shoved herself in front of the entryway, blocking me. "Are you insane? The VP of Veridian is sitting right there! Are you trying to sabotage Liora's career over a necklace?!"

Suddenly, the front door swung open.

Liora stood on the porch. She took one look at my tear-streaked face and brought a dramatic hand to her chest, right over the moonstone.

"Elowen... are you looking for this?"

She unhooked the clasp, letting the silver chain pool in her palm. "I had no idea it was Gran Sera's. Aunt Mara told me she bought it as an initiation gift to wish me luck."

I stepped forward, extending a trembling hand. "Give it back."

But Liora's hand suddenly went limp. The moonstone slipped from her palm.

It plummeted toward the hardwood floor, landing with a sickening, definitive CRACK.

The antique stone fractured down the center, splitting into two jagged halves that skittered across the floorboards.

Liora stumbled backward, pressing her hands over her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she cried out, her voice trembling with absolute terror. "You—you lunged at me! You scared me... please don't be mad at me..."