The Smiths lived in a ramshackle shack on the edge of town—a world away from the Guzmans' lavish life. The air hung thick and sour, rotting vegetables clawing at your throat in the brutal heat. Aspyn Guzman didn't flinch. Fifteen years in this place had numbed her to the stench. Besides, prison smelled worse.
She wasn't even sure the Smiths still lived here. After all, the Guzmans had handed them enough money to live comfortably for a lifetime. Their numbers had changed, and she had no way to reach them. Coming here was a gamble—but maybe one she had to take.
As she stepped into the alley, luck seemed to be on her side when she caught the familiar grumble of her foster father's voice.
"Crying, always crying! You in mourning or what? No wonder I keep losing money—it's your damn bad luck!"
The crash of thrown objects followed by a woman's pleading echoed down the hall. Aspyn froze. The scene was painfully familiar. She'd grown up in this chaos—and later, those insults and blows had been aimed at her. Back then, all she wanted was to run.
Lost in the memory, she nearly jumped when the front door slammed open. Her foster father stumbled out, reeking of alcohol, spitting on the ground.
"Stupid... bringing me bad luck..." His muttering died the second he spotted her. He rubbed his eyes, blinking in disbelief. When he realized it was really her, a greedy glint flickered in his bleary eyes.
"Aspyn?"
"Daughter! You came to see your old man?"
"Come in, come in."
He reached out to grab her, but Aspyn sidestepped him easily.
His face soured, anger flashing across his features—but he swallowed it, forcing a smile. "Come on in, your mother's inside!"
"Mary! Mary! Our daughter's back—get out here!"
As if on cue, a woman with a bruised face appeared in the doorway. It was Mary, Aspyn's foster mother.
"Aspyn..." Mary breathed, automatically reaching for Aspyn's hand. Aspyn pulled away.
Mary's face flickered with hurt. Aspyn's foster father shoved her roughly. "You idiot, Aspyn's a proper Guzman lady now. Think you can just touch her?"
"But our Aspyn's got a good heart. She remembered to come see us—unlike that ungrateful wretch who never showed her face once."
He kept flattering Aspyn while cursing Avayah.
"Blood doesn't mean a thing compared to raising someone, right, daughter?"
Aspyn understood the hint. "Mr. Smith, I don't have any money."
His face dropped instantly. All that sycophantic warmth vanished. His voice shot up. "You're a Guzman lady now, and you're telling me you're broke?"
"You ungrateful little—I raised you for fifteen years! Even a dog would've learned some loyalty by now..."
He started kicking at stuff lying around, and Mary shrank back, silent.
"I don't care. You better pay up today," he threatened, grabbing Aspyn by the collar. "If you don't, I'll throw you out on the street naked. Let's see how the Guzmans handle that."
Aspyn stared at him, ice-cold. "Do it. They wouldn't give a damn. They've cut ties with me—didn't you hear?"
He stopped mid-rant, a bitter twist crossing his face. He knew the Guzmans had disowned her. His dream of an easy payday crumbled. He lifted his hand to strike her—a gesture she knew all too well.
"You worthless—"
His hand froze mid-swing, caught in Aspyn's iron grip. A cold smile curled her lips. "Try me."
Caught off guard by the steel in her eyes, he suddenly realized his 'daughter' was nearly as tall as him now. Not the scrawny kid he could push around anymore.
"Mr. Smith, do you think I spent three years in prison for nothing?"
Aspyn pushed up her sleeve, revealing scars from her time inside. Her foster father swallowed hard, suddenly remembering why she'd been locked up in the first place.
Fear crept into his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. He wrenched free from her grip, spat to the side, and muttered, "Damn it!"
Then he brushed past her, stumbling away, all bravado gone.
Mary finally stepped forward, watching Aspyn with a mix of wariness and pleading. "Aspyn, are you okay? Let me see."
She reached for Aspyn's hand—and again, Aspyn pulled away. Mary's face wavered between hurt and reproach, but Aspyn felt nothing.
"Where's Grandma?"
"In the back," Mary murmured.
Ignoring her, Aspyn headed toward the small room at the back of the shack.
The door swung open, and a stench hit her so hard that even Aspyn—toughened by years of hardship—hesitated.
On the bed lay her grandmother, nothing but skin and bones. Tears welled in Aspyn's eyes.
"Grandma."
She stepped inside.
The room was tiny, with no windows, no fan—air conditioning wasn't even a thought. And her grandmother lay there, in that godforsaken place.
Seeing Aspyn, the old woman reached out a shaky hand.
"Aspyn... Aspyn!"
"Grandma!" Aspyn rushed to take her hand, a knife twisting in her chest.
There was no flesh left on those fingers.
"Aspyn, you're okay..." Grandma tried to touch Aspyn's face, but pulled back, self-conscious of her dirty hands.
"Grandma, let me see your leg."
She had a rare condition—one that needed surgery to heal properly. Aspyn had begged Grant to arrange it, and he'd agreed—on one condition: she take the fall for Avayah.
Aspyn moved to uncover Grandma's leg, but a frail grip stopped her. "Nothing to see. I'm fine."
"Just old age making me lazy."
"Aspyn, tell me—were they mean to you in there?"
That warmth hit Aspyn square in the chest.
Of everyone since she'd been released, Grandma was the only one who'd asked if she'd been mistreated.
Aspyn wanted to tell her everything—the hardships, the torment. But she forced a smile instead. "No! It wasn't as bad as people say. No one bullied me."
"Really?" Grandma didn't quite believe her.
"Really!" Aspyn smiled. "You know me—I've always been a good girl. The guards looked out for me."
Aspyn's expression was so convincing that Grandma bought it, relaxing. "That's good to hear."
"Grandma, come with me," Aspyn whispered. "I have money now. I can take care of you."
"Just three more months, and I'll be completely free. Will you come live with me then?"
To Aspyn, Grandma was her only real family.
Grandma didn't answer, just patted Aspyn's shoulder with a satisfied smile. "As long as you're doing well, that's all I need."
"I've always worried about you. Now I can finally rest easy."
There was something off about Grandma's voice. Her touch felt feverish, and Aspyn's expression changed. "Grandma?"
"Nothing... just tired... wanna rest..." Grandma slurred, struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Okay, let's rest."
Aspyn moved to help her lie down—then froze. Something was wrong. She quickly pulled back the blanket covering Grandma's legs.
