“And what’s your name?”
“Charity Frost,” I said. Then, softer, “Or maybe Lawson. I’m not sure anymore.”
Another pause, longer this time. When she spoke again, her voice had changed. “Charity, I’m going to need you to tell me everything from the beginning. And I need you to tell me if you’re safe right now.”
“I’m at the library,” I said. “I’m safe for now. But on Friday, I don’t think I will be anymore.”
I told her everything. The overheard conversation. The documents in the basement. The fifteen years of clearance-rack birthdays while Knox got everything new. The trust that was supposed to give me a future, disappearing into Range Rovers and hockey camps.
When I finished, Holly was quiet for a long moment.
“Charity,” she said finally, “what you’re describing is embezzlement and breach of fiduciary duty. That’s a crime. If everything you’ve found is accurate, Lester could face serious criminal charges, and you would have grounds for a civil suit to recover what’s been taken.”
“How long would that take?”
“Months. Maybe years. Courts move slowly, especially when minors are involved.”
“I don’t have months,” I said. “I’m turning sixteen in three days, and I think… I think he’s going to kick me out. I heard him tell Vicki I’m too expensive now that I’m asking questions.”
“He can’t legally kick out a minor,” Holly said sharply.
“Maybe not legally,” I said. “But he can make my life miserable enough that I leave on my own. I need to know my options. I need to know what happens if I hand him proof that I know what he did.”
“Charity—”
“Please,” I said. “Just tell me what my options are.”
She sighed. “Okay. If you have documentation—real, solid documentation—and if you’re willing to go on record with what you know, I can file for emergency removal of Lester as your trustee and guardian. But that means courts, judges, testifying. It means your life becomes public. And it means you’ll need somewhere safe to go while this plays out.”
“What if…” I hesitated. “What if there’s family I don’t know about? From my biological father’s side?”
“Reed Lawson’s family?” Holly’s voice sharpened with interest. “I handled his estate. He didn’t have much family left—his parents had passed, no siblings. But he had a half-brother. Older, different mother. They weren’t close, but the half-brother helped settle Reed’s affairs when he died.”
“Do you have his contact information?”
“I… yes. In my old files. Charity, what are you planning?”
“I’m planning to survive my sixteenth birthday,” I said. “And I’m planning to make sure Lester understands that I know exactly what he is.”
The night before my birthday, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in my narrow bed staring at the water-stained ceiling, listening to the house settle and creak, knowing that tomorrow everything would change. In my backpack, hidden in the false bottom I’d created by cutting open the lining, was an envelope containing copies of the trust documents, the DNA test, and a letter I’d written in my neatest handwriting addressed to Lester James Frost.
The letter was simple:
I know you’re not my father. I know about the trust Reed Lawson set up for me. I know you’ve been stealing from it for fifteen years. I have copies of everything. If you want to pretend this family is normal for one more day, you can. But tomorrow, the truth comes out, and you’ll have to explain to a judge where my money went. Consider this your notice.
I’d signed it Charity Lawson, the name I was learning belonged to me more than Frost ever had.
My birthday fell on a Friday. Lester made a show of cooking breakfast—pancakes, my supposed favorite, though I’d never actually told him I liked pancakes. Vicki sat at the table with her coffee, smiling her practiced smile. Knox shuffled in late, still half-asleep, grabbed food without sitting down.
“Happy birthday, sis,” he mumbled, and I felt a pang of something that might have been grief. Knox wasn’t a bad kid. He was just a kid who’d been given everything and never thought to question why his sister had nothing.
“Thanks,” I said.
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