"What about my real father?" I asked, my voice rough.
Lawyer Chavez shook his head. "Old Mr. Lawrence searched for years. He never found him."
"All he knew was that the man's surname was Gilbert. Back then he'd come here for the building-materials business, then went back down South, and after that they lost contact."
I looked at that thick stack of transfer records, and the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over.
Not from grief. From how absurd it all was.
Laughing at myself for being such a fool.
Twenty-two years. Twenty-two years I'd lived inside the belief that my parents just didn't love me, and turned it into hating myself.
I'd tried so hard to be good, worked myself ragged, earned every dollar I could, all to buy one word of approval from them.
But it turned out I was never their child at all.
They'd taken my grandfather's money, raised their own kids on it, and told themselves they had every right to treat me as a free maid and a walking bank account.
I wiped my eyes and said through my teeth, "Lawyer Chavez, I want you to take my case."
From today on, I would no longer be the soft target anyone could squeeze.
Everything they owed me, I'd take back, piece by piece, all of it.
When I walked back into the Pruitt house with Lawyer Chavez, Zoey and the others were sitting in the living room in the middle of a fight.
Zoey slapped her thigh and wailed, "This is all your fault! You just had to lock her up, and now she's gone and the money's gone with her!"
Stuart smoked his cigarette, his face twisted with irritation. "What are you crying for? The monk can run, but the temple can't. She'll be back."
"When she comes back, see if I don't break her legs."
Off to one side Morris hurled the remote down and snapped, "What about my apartment? What about my down payment?"
"Carina, that little bitch, actually had the nerve to run!"
Cicely, meanwhile, wore a worried look. "Do you think she went to find Tom?"
"If she goes crying to Tom, he's going to think badly of me for sure—"
Cicely didn't get to finish. I stepped back inside.
They saw me and froze for a second, then their faces lit up with pure glee.
Zoey rushed at me first, hand already reaching for my hair, spitting curses. "You've got some nerve, coming back!"
"Where did you run off to? Did you go crying to Tom? I'm telling you, it won't do you any good!"
"Tom belongs to your sister. The only one you get to marry is—"
Before she could finish, Lawyer Chavez stepped in front of her, blocking her, and said gravely, "Ma'am, show some respect."
"I'm Miss Pruitt's attorney. If you lay a hand on her, we'll call the police immediately."
Zoey stalled, then went off at me like a woman having a fit. "What do you need a lawyer for? What, you think you're going to sue us?"
"I'm your mother. If you dare sue us, that makes you an ungrateful child—"
Lawyer Chavez cut her off again, his voice cold. "You're not her mother."
"According to the paternity test and other documents Old Mr. Lawrence left behind, Miss Pruitt is the daughter of Ms. Maggie Lawrence. Which makes her your niece."
"You are only Miss Pruitt's aunt. You are not her legal guardian."
