Everything fell apart that summer — money gone, Dad gone, nowhere to run. And just when I needed family most, my stepmother gave me a price for staying.
That summer, I almost lost myself completely.
I stood in my tiny rented apartment, staring at the empty shelves, suitcases, and a pile of boxes. For ten years I had worked without weekends, saving every dollar I could to open my own little bookstore café.
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And just when it felt like I was finally on the doorstep of something truly mine, my landlord raised the rent so high I couldn’t afford it.
But losing my apartment wasn’t the worst part. Because then, just days later, my Dad died. And that was the moment everything truly broke.
My Raymond.
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I still called him that in my mind. Raymond… To me, he had always been more than just “Dad.” It was just the two of us after my Mom passed. He sat at the edge of my bed when I buried my face in the pillow.
“Hannah, look at me. You’re not alone. I’m here.”
He always said it so calmly. He used to bring me books from the library.
“I found another story for you. Should we read it together?”
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I nodded and reached my hands out to him. He stroked my hair and whispered,
“You’re my little star, Hannah. All I have.”
I believed every word. But after that summer when Lydia came along, everything changed.
“Raymond, I want us to be a family,” she said back then. “I’ll be like a second Mom to Hannah.”
I looked her straight in the eyes and I believed her.
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And Chloe, her daughter, hid behind my back and squeaked in that tiny voice,
“I’ll be like a sister to you! I promise!”
I promised myself to believe it too. Raymond wrapped his arms around the three of us. His eyes shone with hope.
But over time Lydia took control of everything. After the wedding, she walked through the house with keys to every room tucked in her pocket. My stepsister Chloe wandered around.
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“Hannah, why do you need so many books? You’ll never make money from them.”
When I left for college, Dad often called me, whispering into the phone when Lydia was asleep.
“Hannah, you know… You’ll always be my girl. They’re good people, but… I feel like a guest in my own house.”
“Dad…”
I heard him swallowing his tears.
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Years later, I sat on the floor surrounded by boxes, wondering if I’d ever done enough for him. If he were proud of me at that moment, trying so hard to hold on.
“Alright, Hannah, alright. Breathe.”
I needed to say goodbye to Dad. I told myself I’d stay in his house for a while — just to breathe.
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I knew Lydia wouldn’t like it. Chloe even less. To them, Raymond was just a wallet — a kind heart they bent with sweet words. But he was gone. And I was left to face his “family” alone.
For a moment, I believed I still had somewhere to belong.
I didn’t know then that Lydia had other plans.
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***
The funeral was hot and stuffy.
I stood there, my dress sticking to my back, listening to people say how kind Raymond had been.
I watched Lydia stand beside the casket, dabbing her eyes with a perfectly folded tissue. Chloe sniffled into her shoulder. I could almost see Dad leaning against that old oak tree, rolling his eyes at all this fake crying.
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Hours later, we all gathered in the old living room. Mr. Whitaker, the family attorney, cleared his throat.
“Raymond left clear instructions. The house goes to Hannah.”
Then he flipped to the last page and frowned.
“However… there’s an addendum. It says the final decision about transferring the deed depends on… the good judgment of Lydia.”
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I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your father wanted to ensure… certain conditions were met. Lydia will decide the specific terms. You’ll need to agree and carry them out. I’m here to supervise that the agreement is fulfilled.”
