Lester slid a small wrapped box across the table. “For the birthday girl.”
I opened it slowly. Inside was a cheap bracelet from the discount store, the kind that turned your wrist green after a week. The price tag was still stuck to the bottom of the box: $8.99.
“Thanks,” I said again, my voice flat.
Vicki cleared her throat. “We thought you might like something practical this year. You’re getting older, after all. Time to start thinking about your future.”
“My future,” I repeated.
“College, career, that sort of thing,” Lester said, loading his plate with more pancakes. “You’ll need to get serious about scholarships. We can’t afford to send you anywhere fancy.”
The irony was so thick I could taste it. Three hundred thousand dollars, and he was telling me I needed scholarships.
“Actually,” I said, setting down my fork carefully, “I wanted to talk about money.”
The kitchen went quiet. Lester’s jaw tightened. Vicki’s smile froze.
“What about money?” Lester asked.
“I was wondering about my mother’s estate,” I said. “Did she leave anything? Insurance, savings, anything like that?”
“Your mother died broke,” Lester said flatly. “She was always terrible with money. Everything she had went to pay off her debts.”
“What about my biological father?” I asked, watching his face carefully. “Did he leave anything?”
The color drained from Lester’s face, then flooded back in an angry red. Vicki’s coffee cup clinked against the table as she set it down too hard.
“Where did you hear about that?” Lester’s voice was dangerous now, low and controlled.
“It doesn’t matter where I heard it,” I said. “What matters is whether it’s true.”
“Your biological father,” Lester spat the words like they tasted bad, “was a deadbeat who knocked up your mother and then had the decency to die before he could disappoint you personally. He left nothing. I’m the one who stepped up. I’m the one who raised you when nobody else wanted to.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” I asked quietly. “When you’re spending money from the trust he set up for me, do you tell yourself he left nothing?”
The explosion was immediate. Lester surged to his feet, his chair clattering backward. “You ungrateful little—I have given you everything! A home, food, clothes—”
“Clearance rack clothes,” I interrupted. “While Knox gets everything new. While you drive a Range Rover bought with money that was supposed to be mine.”
“How dare you—”
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