Maya's POV
I can't feel my legs as I climb the steps to my family's house.
My father's cold voice still echoes in my head. "Come home. Right now." Like I'm a child being summoned for punishment. Like I did something wrong.
But I'm not the one who did something wrong. Derek is. Vanessa is. They're the ones destroying my life.
The front door opens before I can knock. My stepmother Patricia stands there in her expensive silk robe, her face twisted in fake concern.
"Oh, Maya. Come in, dear. We've been waiting for you."
Something about her voice makes my skin crawl. She sounds too sweet. Too happy. Like she's enjoying this.
I step inside. My father sits on the living room couch, not looking at me. Vanessa perches on the armchair, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue even though I don't see any tears.
"Sit down, Maya," my father says.
"I don't want to sit." My voice comes out stronger than I expected. "Just tell me what's going on. Why did you call me here?"
"We heard about the wedding," Patricia says, still using that fake-sweet voice. "Derek called us an hour ago. He explained everything about Vanessa's condition and his difficult decision."
My hands clench into fists. "His decision? He doesn't get to make decisions about my life without asking me first!"
"He's trying to be kind," Vanessa whispers, her voice weak and breathy. "I only have a few months left. The doctors say—"
"Stop lying!" The words explode out of me. "I heard you at Derek's apartment. You weren't talking like someone who's dying. You were talking like someone who's stealing my fiancé!"
Vanessa's face changes. For just one second, I see hatred flash in her eyes. Then she starts crying harder, and Patricia rushes to comfort her.
"How dare you accuse your sister when she's suffering!" Patricia snaps. "Vanessa has a rare heart condition. She could die any day. All she wants is one happy memory before she goes."
"So she wants to steal my happy memory?" I turn to my father, desperate for him to understand. "Dad, please. You know this is wrong. You know Vanessa has always hated me. She's doing this on purpose."
My father finally looks at me. His expression is cold, distant, like he's looking at a stranger instead of his daughter.
"Derek Walsh comes from a very important family," he says slowly. "His father owns the biggest law firm in the city. If Vanessa marries Derek, it creates opportunities for our family. Business opportunities."
The room spins. "Business opportunities? That's what this is about? Money?"
"It's about being practical," Patricia says. "You've been with Derek for six years and what do you have to show for it? You work three jobs just to survive. You live in that tiny apartment. You have nothing."
"I have love," I whisper.
"Love doesn't pay bills," Patricia snaps. "Love doesn't create connections or opportunities. Vanessa understands that. She's always been smarter than you."
Vanessa smiles at me through her fake tears. That smile tells me everything. She's not dying. She's not suffering. She's winning.
"Derek and I are getting married tomorrow," Vanessa says softly. "We're going to live somewhere special while I'm still healthy enough to enjoy it. Your father has generously offered us this house."
My blood turns to ice. "What?"
"This house is too big for just your father and me," Patricia says. "It makes sense for the newlyweds to live here. They'll need space for taking care of Vanessa's medical needs."
"But I helped pay for this house!" My voice cracks. "For three years, I gave you money every month for the mortgage. I worked three jobs so we could keep this house!"
"Those were contributions to the household," my father says, still not meeting my eyes. "Not investments. The house belongs to Patricia and me. We can do whatever we want with it."
I stare at him in disbelief. This man raised me. This man used to call me his little girl. This man held me when my mother died and promised he'd always protect me.
Now he's throwing me away just like Derek did.
"Where am I supposed to go?" I ask quietly.
Patricia shrugs. "You're twenty-four years old, Maya. It's time you found your own place anyway. We've been too generous letting you live here as long as we have."
"Too generous?" Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. "I paid rent! I bought groceries! I fixed things when they broke! I've been taking care of this family for years!"
"And we appreciate that," Patricia says in a voice that says she doesn't appreciate anything. "But things change. Vanessa needs this house more than you do. She's dying, remember?"
I look at Vanessa. She's not even pretending to cry anymore. She's just sitting there with that cruel smile, enjoying every second of my pain.
"I need to get some of my things," I say, heading toward the stairs.
"Actually," Patricia stops me, "we already packed your belongings. They're by the front door. We thought it would be easier for everyone if you just took them tonight."
I turn and see three boxes stacked near the entrance. Three boxes. That's all my life fits into. All my clothes, my books, my memories—reduced to three cardboard boxes.
"You packed my things?" My voice shakes. "Without even telling me?"
"We're just trying to help," Patricia says. "Making the transition easier."
"You're kicking me out," I say clearly. "The night before what was supposed to be my wedding. You're literally throwing me on the street with nowhere to go."
"Don't be dramatic," my father says. "You have friends. You can stay with one of them until you figure things out."
I want to scream at him. I want to make him remember who I used to be to him. His daughter. His little girl. The child he promised to always love.
But he won't even look at me.
"There's one more thing," Patricia says, and something in her tone makes me nervous. "Your father and I have been managing your savings account. The one you've been depositing money into for the past six years."
My stomach drops. "Why are you bringing up my savings account?"
"Well, you see, we've had some unexpected expenses lately," Patricia continues. "Vanessa's medical bills have been quite high. So we had to borrow from your account. Just temporarily, of course."
"Borrow?" My voice comes out as a whisper. "How much did you borrow?"
"All of it," my father says flatly. "We needed fifty thousand dollars, and that's exactly how much you had saved."
The world goes silent. I can't hear anything except my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"You took all my money?" I can barely form words. "Every penny I saved working three jobs for six years?"
"We didn't take it," Patricia corrects. "We borrowed it. Once Vanessa's medical situation is resolved and Derek's father's business deal goes through, we'll pay you back."
They're lying. I know they're lying. They have no intention of paying me back.
"Dad." I turn to him one last time. "Please tell me you didn't know about this. Please tell me you didn't help steal my money."
He finally meets my eyes. "Your stepmother needed help. Family helps family."
"But I'm your family too!" Tears stream down my face now and I don't try to stop them. "I'm your daughter! How can you do this to me?"
"Sometimes we have to make difficult choices," he says. "Vanessa's needs are greater than yours right now."
I back toward the door, grabbing my three boxes. "I'll never forgive you for this. Any of you."
"You'll understand when you're older," Patricia says dismissively. "When you have children of your own, you'll know that sometimes you have to prioritize."
I don't respond. I carry my boxes outside, one by one, setting them on the front steps. The cold night air bites at my skin. I have nowhere to go. No money. No home. No family.
Six hours ago, I was trying on my wedding dress, excited about tomorrow. Now I have nothing.
I sit on the steps between my boxes, my body shaking with cold and shock. I should call someone. But who? My friend Sophie is out of town. I don't have money for a hotel. I don't even have money for food.
I pull out my phone and check my bank account, hoping maybe they didn't take everything. Maybe they left something.
The screen loads.
Balance: $0.00
They took it all. Every single dollar I worked so hard to save.
I don't know how long I sit there. Minutes? Hours? Time doesn't mean anything anymore.
Then I hear a car engine. Tires roll slowly down my street. I don't look up. I don't care who's driving by.
The car stops right in front of my house.
I finally look up and my breath catches.
It's the most beautiful car I've ever seen—sleek, black, expensive. The kind of car that costs more than I'll make in ten years.
The driver's door opens.
A man steps out, and even in my broken state, I notice he's handsome. Tall, dark hair, wearing a suit that probably costs more than my rent. He looks like he walked out of a magazine.
He walks directly toward me, his blue eyes locked on my face like he knows me.
"Maya Chen?" he asks, his voice deep and smooth.
I stare at him. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
He stops a few feet away, studying me with those intense blue eyes. "My name is Ethan Stone. And I'm here to offer you something you desperately need right now."
"What's that?" I whisper.
He smiles slightly, but it's not a kind smile. It's dangerous. Calculated.
"Revenge."