Chapter 4

The same old playbook. I'd seen it more times than I could count.

They'd done it exactly like this in my last life too.

First the online siege, then the leaked address, and finally a dozen men breaking down my door.

The only difference was that last time they'd shattered my image live on stream, right in front of the camera. This time I'd blocked the door and kept them from getting in, so they switched tactics.

Smear me first on social media, wait for the paid accounts to spread it far enough, then let the online mob do their cutting for them.

"Oh my god, would somebody please come and judge who's in the right here!" My aunt's wailing climbed another octave.

This time even the woman selling breakfast at the mouth of the lane leaned out with her bowl still in hand to watch the show.

I drew in a slow breath, killed my phone screen, then crouched down until I was eye to eye with her where she sat on the ground.

"Corinne, you say I'm an ungrateful traitor. Then tell me. My parents left two hundred grand in compensation. You took a hundred and eighty of it. Where did it go?"

Her sobbing stalled for a second.

"That... that all went into raising you! You think feeding and clothing a kid comes free?"

"I boarded at school from middle school on. Room and board was eight hundred a semester. Three years, that's forty-eight hundred. In high school I had a scholarship that covered tuition, so all you ever paid was the boarding fee, twelve hundred a year. Three years, thirty-six hundred. Add it all up and it's under ten thousand."

My voice wasn't loud, but the lane went quiet all at once, and even the people eating breakfast set down their bowls.

"So the other hundred and seventy thousand, Corinne. The used car you bought, the school-transfer fees you paid for Nathan, the three-grand performing-arts course you signed Lesley up for. Where did all that money come from?"

Ursula's aunt-in-law started to move her lips, ready to cut in. I turned my head and looked at her.

"Auntie, why don't you ask her who paid for that Florida trip she posted all over her feed last year. Who covered the flights and the hotel?"

"Maybe some of the funeral money you gave her back in the day is in there too."

Ursula's aunt-in-law went dead silent on the spot.

My aunt's eyes darted back and forth a couple of times, and then she burst out howling again.

"That money was my husband's death benefit! The government paid it to me! What's it got to do with you?"

"The death benefit was my uncle's. The compensation was my parents'."

I straightened up, my voice cold.

"They were paid out separately, Corinne. If you can't keep it straight, I can go to the bank and print out the transfer records from back then."

The neighbors crowding around started to whisper.

Someone pulled out a phone and aimed it at her. She hurried to hide her face in her sleeve, and her crying dropped a few notches.

Ursula's fifth uncle stepped forward, frowning, and said in a low voice,

"Ursula, you don't air family dirty laundry out here. Whatever this is, let's go inside and talk..."

"Fifth Uncle, I already told you. This is my house."

"And today I'm not receiving guests."

"Once the post on social media is deleted and the people spreading the lies apologize, then we'll talk."

With that, I shut the door without a moment's hesitation.

The instant it closed, I heard my aunt shriek from the other side.

"Ursula Matthews, you just wait! Your turn to cry is coming!"

I slid down with my back against the door until I was sitting on the floor, my heart hammering like a drum.

I was alive again.

This time, I'd gotten the door closed.

But I also knew that last time I'd closed a door too, and that same night they'd smashed it open and strolled right in.

My phone screen lit up.

A message from Veronica popped up.

[Found it! The IP that first posted traces back to your county, and that same IP also registered an account called "LesleyGoingStar." Probably your cousin Lesley. Legal's already started the process here, but the fastest they can get a formal letter out is tomorrow.]

Tomorrow.

I could wait. But there was no guarantee they'd wait until tomorrow.

I stood, crossed to the window, and pried apart a gap in the blinds.

The crowd in the lane hadn't dispersed. My aunt, propped up by Ursula's aunt-in-law, was back on her feet, head bent, saying something to Nathan.

Nathan listened and nodded, hands in his pockets, then ambled a few steps toward the mouth of the lane and waved at a silver van that had been parked at the curb for the last half hour.

That van looked far too familiar. It was just like the one that had carried the crowd who broke into my house last time.

I twisted the door lock hard, ramming it into place.

Then, from outside, came the grinding, screeching whine of an electric saw.

The next second, violent pounding erupted against the door.