Floyd's POV
Astrid was just a girl we took in a couple of years ago. How did she get so much money?
On the other hand, Zera, we raised her to be modest and never show off. The most expensive clothing she owned didn’t even cost a hundred dollars. Curious and uneasy, I called our housekeeper and driver to ask about Astrid.
Surprisingly, they all said the same thing — that Astrid was a sweet, frugal girl. They claimed she rarely spent money on herself, wearing her clothes until they were practically threadbare.
But the more they praised her, the more uneasy I felt. It sounded rehearsed, almost like they were covering something up.
If Astrid was so frugal, then where did the designer bags and expensive jewelry come from? Was I really overthinking things?
When news spread that I was coming back, my employees offered to pick me up at the airport. They joked that after nearly a year apart, they might not recognize their boss.
I’d built my company from the ground up, starting as a low-level employee and working my way up. This past year had been crucial for the company’s growth, which meant I barely spent time with my family. So, I was so excited to see my wife and daughter even before the flight.
As soon as my plane landed after the three-hour flight, I declined my colleagues’ invitation to celebrate my return and hailed a cab straight home.
It was already 11 PM when I arrived — a time when everyone should’ve been asleep. But Zera’s room was still lit.
I crept down the hall and peeked inside. I saw her hunched over her desk, frantically scribbling away. Her face was also tight with anxiety and her eyes were distant and unfocused.
My heart clenched upon seeing her pitiful appearance. Was school piling on too much work? Why was she up so late?
I pushed the door open, hoping to surprise her. But instead, she flinched, instinctively shielding her face like she expected to be hit. Her body then curled into itself, trembling.
"Zera, it’s okay. It’s me."
She froze for a moment before hurling herself into my arms.
"Daddy! You’re finally back!" she whispered, her body shaking. Silent tears streamed down her face as if she was afraid of making too much noise and waking the others.
I held her close, rubbing her back gently. "Daddy's home now. But why are you still doing homework this late?"
I reached for her workbook, but before I could touch it, she quickly grabbed it and hid it from me.
Still, I caught a glimpse of the name on the cover — Astrid Motley.
It wasn’t hers.
Before I could say anything, a soft voice came from the doorway.
"Daddy? When did you get back?"
It was Astrid, standing timidly at the door.
I looked at her, then back at the workbook. "Astrid, why is your homework in Zera’s room?"
Her eyes darted nervously to Zera before settling on me.
"Zera saw I had a lot of homework, so she offered to help," she said with a sweet smile.
But when I looked at Zera, she immediately lowered her head as she confirmed, "It’s true… I offered to help. It’s not her fault."
However, her voice quivered and her small frame was shaking with fear. So, I wasn’t convinced.
But when my gaze shifted back to Astrid, she just shrugged nonchalantly.
"You heard her. Zera wanted to help. I didn’t force her." She then turned to Zera and added in a soft but unsettling voice, "Right, sis?"
That "sis" lingered in the air, syrupy and false.
It sounded harmless to me, but I noticed Zera turned pale.
