Hermione's POV
The phone slipped from my shaking hand and cracked against the sidewalk.
"Wait!" I dropped to my knees, grabbing the broken phone. "Dr. Mills? Hello? HELLO?"
The line was dead.
"No, no, no!" I pressed buttons frantically, but the screen stayed black. "Come back!"
James knelt beside me. "What happened? Who was that?"
"My mother's doctor." My words tumbled out fast. "She said my mother was poisoned. She said she knows who—"
A car horn blared behind us. A white van screeched to a stop, and two men in uniforms jumped out.
"Hermione Hale?" The taller one checked his clipboard. "We're here to remove your belongings from the Hale residence."
"Remove my belongings?" I stood up slowly. "What are you talking about?"
"Orders from Rebecca Hale. She says you're trespassing on private property." He shoved a paper into my hands. "Everything you own is being put in storage. You have one hour to claim what you need, then the locks get changed."
"She can't do that!" I screamed. "That's my house! My father—"
"Your father left everything to his wife." The man cut me off. "It's all legal. We checked."
James grabbed my shoulder gently. "Hermione, we need to go. Now."
"But the doctor—"
"Can wait one hour." James picked up my broken phone. "Right now, you need to save what matters."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
The drive back to the house felt like traveling to my own funeral. Everything looked the same as when I'd left this morning. But everything was different now.
The front door stood wide open. Men were already carrying boxes out.
My boxes.
"Stop!" I ran up the steps. "Those are mine!"
Rebecca appeared in the doorway, a coffee cup in her hand like this was just another normal morning.
"Oh good, you're here." She sipped her coffee calmly. "I was worried you'd miss your own eviction."
"You can't kick me out! This is my home!"
"Was your home." Rebecca stepped aside as two men carried out my bookshelf. "Now it belongs to me and Linda. Just like it should have from the beginning."
I pushed past her into the house. Everything was chaos. Boxes everywhere. Furniture moved. Pictures taken off walls.
My whole life being erased.
"Where's Linda?" I demanded.
"Upstairs." Rebecca smiled. "Getting ready for her wedding. Such an exciting day!"
I ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. My bedroom door was open.
Linda stood inside, holding my mother's necklace up to the light. The one my father gave me on my sixteenth birthday. The one I was supposed to wear at my wedding.
"Put that down!" I rushed forward.
Linda turned, the necklace dangling from her fingers. "Oh, this old thing? I found it in your jewelry box. It'll look perfect with my wedding dress."
"That was my mother's!" I tried to grab it, but Linda pulled away.
"And now it's mine." She fastened it around her neck, admiring herself in the mirror. "Just like everything else."
I looked around my room. The room I'd lived in since I was five years old. Linda's clothes hung in my closet. Her makeup covered my dresser. Her shoes lined the floor.
"You're taking my room too?"
"It has the best view." Linda spun around, her skirt swishing. "Plus, it smells like defeat. I love that smell."
"You're sick." I felt tears building again. "You're actually sick in the head."
"Says the girl who's homeless." Linda laughed. "Oh wait, that's you now, isn't it?"
I lunged for the necklace, but Linda was faster. She danced backward, holding it high.
"Come on, Hermione! Fight me for it!" She waved the necklace like a prize. "Show me that famous Hale family strength!"
"Give it back!" I chased her around the bed. "That necklace is all I have left of my mother!"
"Had." Linda stopped suddenly. "Past tense. Because you don't have anything anymore."
She opened the window and held the necklace outside.
"What are you doing?" My heart stopped.
"Making a choice." Linda's eyes glittered with something mean and twisted. "You can have the necklace, or you can have these."
She pulled out a stack of letters from her pocket with her other hand. Old letters, yellowed with age. My mother's handwriting covered the envelopes.
"Where did you get those?" I whispered.
"Your mother's secret drawer. The one behind the false panel in her old desk." Linda waved the letters. "They're addressed to someone named Thomas Blackwood. Ring any bells?"
James's father. It had to be.
"Those are private!"
"Not anymore." Linda dangled the necklace farther out the window. "So what'll it be? The necklace or the letters? You can't have both."
"This is insane!"
"Choose!" Linda shook both hands. "Five... four... three..."
"The letters!" I shouted. "Give me the letters!"
Linda smiled and dropped the necklace.
I watched it fall three stories, the gold chain catching the sunlight before it disappeared into the bushes below.
"Oops." Linda handed me the letters, still smiling. "Good choice though. These are way more interesting than some old jewelry."
I grabbed the letters, clutching them to my chest.
"Now get out." Linda pointed to the door. "This is my room now. My house. My life."
"Linda, please." I tried one more time. "We're sisters. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"We were never sisters." Linda's voice went flat and cold. "You were always the real daughter. The loved one. The special one. I was just the replacement. The backup plan." She moved closer, her face inches from mine. "But not anymore."
Rebecca's voice called from downstairs. "Linda! The photographer is here!"
"Coming, Mother!" Linda pushed past me toward the door, then stopped. "Oh, and Hermione? That doctor who called you?"
My blood froze. "How do you know about that?"
"Dr. Patricia Mills, right?" Linda's smile turned evil. "She won't be calling you again. Ever."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing yet. But Mother has friends everywhere. Even in nursing homes." Linda walked out, calling back, "Have a nice life, Hermione! Oh wait, you don't have one anymore!"
Her laughter echoed down the hallway.
I stood there alone in my stolen room, holding my mother's letters. Outside, I heard the moving van start up. More of my life being taken away.
James appeared in the doorway. "Time to go. They're changing the locks in ten minutes."
"She threatened that doctor." I showed him the letters. "And my mother wrote to your father. James, what's happening? What did our parents know?"
James took the letters carefully, his face going pale as he read the first address.
"Everything," he said quietly. "They knew everything. And now Rebecca is trying to bury it all."
A crash came from downstairs. Men shouting. Something breaking.
We ran down to find Rebecca standing over a smashed picture frame. The photo inside showed my mother and father on their wedding day.
"Such a shame." Rebecca ground the glass under her heel. "Accidents happen when you're moving so much stuff."
She looked up at me, and her smile was pure poison.
"Goodbye, Hermione. Don't come back. Next time I'll call the police." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. "And stop looking into your mother's death. Unless you want to end up just like her."