Chapter 1: The Boxes in the Hallway
“Your father chose me, Ariana. That means I decide what belongs in this house—and you’re running out of time to learn your place.””
Tiffany said it while holding Ariana’s mother’s wedding photograph in one hand and a black trash bag in the other.
Ariana stood frozen in the doorway, her school backpack sliding off one shoulder. For a moment, she couldn't hear the rain tapping against the windows or the television murmuring downstairs. All she could see was the photograph of her mother, Claire, smiling in her white wedding dress.
The same photograph Ariana had slept beside when her mother died three years earlier.
“Put that down,” Ariana whispered.
Tiffany glanced at the picture, then at the girl.
“Excuse me?””
“That’s my mom.””
“And she’s been gone for three years.”” Tiffany dropped the photograph into the trash bag.
“You can't keep living like this.””
Ariana rushed forward.
“Don't touch her!””
Tiffany pulled the bag away, her expression hardening.
“Get your hands off me!””
The photograph slipped through the opening and landed face down on the hardwood floor.
Ariana dropped to her knees and grabbed it. The glass had cracked across her mother's face.
For several seconds, she couldn't breathe.
Tiffany folded her arms.
“Honestly, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Every little thing becomes a tragedy with you.””
“You broke it.””
“It was an accident.””
“You threw it away!””
“And now you're shouting at me in my own house.””
“Our house,” Ariana corrected through tears.
“Dad said this was still my home.””
Tiffany's smile disappeared.
“Your father says a lot of things when he feels guilty.””
Ariana looked toward the staircase. Her father, Khalil, was supposed to be home by six. It was already six-thirty, and his car still wasn't in the driveway.
She wanted to call him.
She wanted to tell him what Tiffany had done.
But Tiffany had a way of making every complaint sound like evidence against Ariana herself.
If Ariana cried, she was manipulative.
If she defended herself, she was disrespectful.
If she stayed silent, Tiffany told Khalil that his daughter was becoming cold and hostile.
There was no winning.
Tiffany picked up another box from beside the hallway closet and shoved it toward Ariana.
“Your room needs to be cleared.””
Ariana stared at her.
“What?””
“I've decided to turn it into a guest room. My sister is visiting next week, and she shouldn't have to sleep on the sofa.””
“But that's my room.””
“Not anymore.””
“Where am I supposed to sleep?””
Tiffany tilted her head as though the question amused her.
“You're fifteen, Ariana. You're old enough to stop expecting everyone to arrange their lives around you.””
Ariana looked at the box.
Inside were her mother's scarves, a small jewelry case, two old birthday cards, and the blue sweater Claire had worn on the last Christmas they spent together.
Ariana picked up the sweater and pressed it against her chest.
“Please,” she said.
“You can move my books. You can take the desk. Just don't touch Mom's things.””
Tiffany stepped closer.
“You need to understand something. Khalil and I are building a future together. A real future. And I won't let your obsession with a dead woman ruin it.””
Ariana's eyes burned.
“She's my mother.””
“And I'm your father's wife.””
“Then why do you hate me?””
For the first time, Tiffany didn't immediately answer.
She looked toward the staircase, checking that no one was listening. Then she leaned down until her face was inches from Ariana's.
“Because you make him remember a life he should have left behind.””
Ariana went still.
Tiffany straightened, her expression instantly returning to its usual polished calm.
“Now finish packing.””
She walked away, her heels clicking against the floor.
Ariana remained on her knees, carefully collecting the pieces of glass from the broken frame. She wrapped the photograph in her sweater and placed it inside her backpack.
Then she heard Tiffany's voice from the kitchen.
“Yes, Denise, I'm doing it today,” Tiffany said into her phone.
“I'm removing the last of Claire's things. Ariana has been using those memories to control Khalil for years.””
Ariana slowly rose.
Tiffany continued, unaware that she was being overheard.
“No, Denise. I don't care what Claire wanted. Claire is gone, and someone has to make this family move forward.””
A pause.
Then Tiffany laughed softly.
“Don't worry. By the time Khalil realizes what's happening, everything will already be settled.””
Ariana backed away from the kitchen.
Her hands were trembling, but something inside her had changed. Until that moment, she'd believed Tiffany was cruel only when they were alone. She had believed that if her father could hear the truth, he would understand.
Now she knew Tiffany was planning something.
And she was willing to lie about it.
Ariana hurried upstairs to the bathroom, locked the door, and pulled her phone from her pocket.
She opened an app she'd installed months earlier, after Tiffany had threatened to send her away for supposedly stealing a bracelet.
The app had been recording audio whenever Ariana manually started it.
She had saved several recordings, mostly because Tiffany's version of events always seemed to become the only version Khalil believed.
Ariana scrolled through the files.
There was the recording of Tiffany calling her a burden.
Another captured Tiffany threatening to throw away Claire's belongings.
And then there was one from two weeks earlier, a recording Ariana had almost deleted because listening to it made her feel sick.
She pressed play.
Tiffany's voice filled the small bathroom.
“If you tell Khalil what happened, I'll make sure he sends you away. I'll tell him you stole money. I'll tell him you threatened me. And do you know what he'll believe?””
A brief pause.
“Me. I'm his wife. You're just the child he feels sorry for.””
Ariana stopped the recording.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and saved a second copy.
Then she sent one message to her father.
*Ariana:* Dad, please come home as soon as you can. I need you to hear something before Tiffany makes another decision about my life.
Downstairs, the front door opened.
Khalil's voice carried through the house.
“I'm home!””
Ariana hurried out of the bathroom.
But before she could reach the stairs, Tiffany appeared at the end of the hallway.
She was holding Ariana's phone.
Ariana's stomach dropped.
“Looking for this?”” Tiffany asked.
“How did you get that?””
“You left it on the kitchen counter.””
Tiffany held the phone up, her thumb moving across the screen.
Then her expression changed.
Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But Ariana saw the moment Tiffany realized what was on it.
The color drained from her face.
“What's this recording?”” Tiffany whispered.
From downstairs, Khalil called again.
“Girls? Is everything okay up there?””
Tiffany stared at Ariana.
Then she smiled.
It was the most frightening smile Ariana had ever seen.
“Of course, darling,” Tiffany called down.
“Everything is perfectly fine.””
She slipped the phone into her pocket.
May you like
And locked her free hand around Ariana's wrist.
“Because,” Tiffany whispered, “we're going to have a little conversation before your father hears a single second of that.””
