I held my daughter tight and walked out without looking back.
Behind me, all hell broke loose.
My mother-in-law's shrill voice cut through the chaos, sharp as broken glass.
"Walk out that door, and don't you dare come back!"
I didn't turn around.
In the elevator, Rosemary tugged at my sleeve, her voice small.
"Mommy, why aren't we eating dinner?"
"Because they wanted Mommy to be their fool."
"What's a fool?"
I smoothed her hair, my jaw tight. "Someone who gets robbed and then says thank you."
I hailed a cab and headed straight for my parents' place in the Eastside District.
My phone buzzed the entire ride. Abner's name flashed on the screen, message after message.
Where did you go? Come back.
Mom was just thinking about the whole family. If you disagreed, you could've talked it out.
Are you trying to ruin the New Year on purpose? Cassandra, I really underestimated you. You're unbelievably selfish!
I didn't reply.
He called. Once. Twice. Three times.
I powered off my phone.
When I'd first won the lottery, I'd been elated—genuinely, breathlessly happy.
My mother had a tumor in her brain. Surgery and recovery would cost at least three hundred thousand dollars.
And just last week, Abner's checkup had come back with a shadow on his lung. Suspected cancer.
I'd thought it was fate. Heaven never seals off all the exits. This money could save both of them.
But before I could even sit down with Abner to discuss it, that mama's boy had already made promises to his mother behind my back.
Fine.
Call it pride. Call it spite. But that money was mine, and I would protect it.
The drive took an hour and forty minutes. I called my mother on the way.
"I'm bringing Rosemary home for dinner."
"Now? Aren't you supposed to be having New Year's Eve dinner at your in-laws'?"
"We had a falling out."
Silence. Two heartbeats.
"There's plenty of food. Come home."
Four words. My eyes burned.
When we arrived, my parents had already set the table. It wasn't as extravagant as the Fletchers' spread, but every dish was something I loved.
Rosemary passed out on the couch within minutes, her small body curled into the cushions.
Only then did I check my phone.
Ninety-nine-plus messages in the family group chat. I didn't need to read them to know what they said.
But one message stood out—from Melody Lambert, my neighbor.
Cassandra, did someone break into your place? A whole bunch of people showed up. They're tearing the apartment apart.
My stomach dropped.
I pulled up the security camera app.
On the screen, Abner led the charge—his parents and his brother right behind him. They were ransacking my home. Clothes ripped from the wardrobe. Drawers dumped onto the floor. Books, documents, everything scattered like debris after a storm.
My mother-in-law's voice crackled through the microphone, shrill and relentless.
"Search everywhere! She's definitely hiding it here!"
"Mom, this doesn't feel right..." Abner's voice wavered, thin and unconvincing.
"What's not right about it?! That's marital property! What gives her the right to keep it all?!"
"But lottery tickets are bearer instruments..."
"Exactly! That's why we have to find it!" Her voice pitched higher, a screech now. "Whoever holds it, owns it! Go check the bedroom again!"
I watched, frozen. Ice spread through my veins.
I'd always known the Fletchers were mercenary. But this—
His sister tore apart Rosemary's toys, tossing them aside with a huff of impatience. "There's nothing here!"
"Keep looking!" My mother-in-law commanded like a general on a battlefield. "Flip the mattress! Take the drawers out completely!"
They moved through my home like locusts. Like thieves.
Two hours. They searched for two hours before finally leaving, empty-handed and seething.
I saved the footage.
Every second of it.
Evidence, I thought coldly. For later.
My mother walked over with a plate of sliced fruit, her brow furrowed.
"What are you looking at? You've gone pale."
