Chapter 1

The day before school started, I took the deed to our school-district home to enroll my daughter.

Only for the clerk to tell me the spot was already taken.

"Your husband came in three days ago to handle it himself. He said the child on record was his son."

"The boy's name is Damian Stephens."

I stood frozen, as if lightning had struck me.

To scrape together the money for a home in a top school district so my daughter could go to a good school, I'd worked myself to the bone for five years.

Killing myself at my day job, then driving food deliveries after hours.

Even when the pressure sat on me like a mountain and gave me a heart condition young.

I still couldn't bring myself to see a doctor.

Shaking, I dialed my husband.

The accusation was still stuck in my throat when Raymond Wiley spoke first.

"Damian's dad was my buddy from way back. He had a hard life and died young. It's only right that I look after his boy and his mom."

"Anyway, our daughter's still little. A few years late to school won't matter. Be reasonable about this."

Every word was an order, driving into my heart like a spike.

My legs gave out and I dropped hard to the floor.

I didn't even have the strength left to confront him.

All those vows before the wedding, that he'd buy a car, buy a house, take care of me and our child for the rest of our lives.

All of it a joke now.

If Raymond thought so much of Damian that he'd sacrifice my daughter's future for the boy.

Then I'd give the two of them their happy little family, and take my daughter far away.

……

The moment I opened the door, Raymond was already snarling at me.

"Why are you home so late? Don't you know we're all starving?"

I lifted my eyes over the mess scattered across the floor and started to speak.

Raymond suddenly tossed a box of picked-over fried chicken bones in front of me, like he was doing me a favor.

"All right, I know work wears you out, and the enrollment thing was rough on you."

"But I had no choice. Trudy Sullivan and Damian, think how pitiful they are."

"I saved this for you special. Go on and eat."

Trudy chimed in right after.

"Sorry, Shelagh Finch. I didn't know you'd be coming home, so I didn't order enough."

"Should I run downstairs now and get you a little something?"

The refusal was still stuck in my throat when Raymond, once again, cut in and decided for me.

"No need."

"Shelagh's on a diet. This is just enough for her. Otherwise she'll put on weight and start giving me grief again."

"I've got a parent-teacher meeting for Damian in a few days. I don't have time to coddle her."

Same as always.

Raymond loved to make the call on his own and ignore every last thing my daughter and I asked for.

I'd pleaded with him for three days straight, and he still wouldn't go to our daughter's preschool parent-child event.

But for Damian's little family, he put in everything he had.

I said nothing and picked up my daughter, curled in the corner.

"Mommy, I'm so hungry…"

Then I walked into the kitchen without looking back.

Raymond grabbed the remote and hurled it at my feet.

"What's that supposed to mean? Who's the attitude for?"

"I bet you came home late on purpose so we'd have to eat junk, while you two eat something with nutrition in it?"

"Do you not get that Damian's still growing!"

I didn't turn around. I patted my daughter's back, gently.

Told her not to be afraid.

"Nelly hasn't eaten all day. She's growing too."

Raymond's face flushed, and his tone lost some of its edge.

"Damian's a boy. Of course he gets first pick when there's only so much takeout. It's not like I meant to leave Nelly with no dinner."

Then he switched tacks.

"Oh, I get it. You're jealous again and throwing a fit, aren't you?"

"No wonder Nelly never wants to call Trudy and Damian by name on her own."

"You've been talking trash behind my back, turning the kid bad."

The accusations kept pouring out behind me.

I stopped paying Raymond any mind and quietly shut the kitchen door.

Shutting all of it out.

In the kitchen, the grease fumes stung so bad I could barely keep my eyes open.

But I'd asked Raymond to clean the range hood a month ago.

Yesterday I asked him why he hadn't.

He said:

"I actually meant to swap it out for you, but Trudy ran out of her skincare products, so I took the money and gave it all to her."

"You cook every day anyway. No point in you keeping up appearances."

I got lost in my thoughts, and before I noticed I'd poured in too much white vinegar.

On reflex I opened the cabinet, wanting to find some sugar to cut the sourness.

But I couldn't find it anywhere.

Just as I thought it was my bad memory acting up again, that condition of mine, Trudy leaned against the kitchen doorframe, amused, and said:

"Shelagh, the sugar's in the fridge."

"I come over a lot, and every time I use it I put the sugar back in the fridge out of habit."

I stood frozen where I was.

So it was never that pregnancy had scrambled my brain for years. It was that a thief had gotten into my home.