Chapter 3Lesson One: Stop Needing Me

I sat in the sterile waiting room of the emergency veterinary clinic until three in the morning.

"He has a severe fracture in his hind leg, along with deep soft tissue contusions."

Biscuit was lying flat on the stainless steel examination table. The anesthesia hadn't fully worn off, and his eyes were only half-open.

When he saw me, his tail gave a weak, pathetic thump against the metal table.

I stroked his golden head, my tears dropping silently onto his fur.

After bringing a heavily medicated Biscuit back to the apartment, I walked into my office building the next morning with the left side of my face still visibly swollen.

The second I stepped into the bullpen, every single pair of eyes locked onto me.

I walked to my cubicle. Sarah, the senior analyst sitting across from me, quietly slid her phone across the desk.

"Sloane, your mother is dragging your name through the mud in the company Slack channel."

I tapped the screen.

The messages were coming from my own account. Technically, it was my mother typing on my stolen iPad.

[To all management and colleagues. I am Sloane's mother.]

[I am reaching out here because I am completely out of options and desperate for help.]

[Sloane refuses to support her elderly parents, financially abuses her little sister by cutting off her food money, and is trying to illegally embezzle a house left behind by her grandmother.]

[Her personal life is completely degenerate, and as her parents, we simply cannot control her anymore.]

She attached several photos to the diatribe.

The first photo was my completely trashed living room.

Caption: [Sloane threw a violent tantrum and destroyed our home.]

The second was a photo of Lexi crying outside The Grand Regent hotel.

Caption: [My youngest daughter's first day of college, humiliated because her cruel sister refused to pay for a simple meal.]

The third was a cropped snapshot of the official property deed.

Caption: [An inheritance meant for the whole family, hoarded entirely by her.]

I stared at that third photo for a very long time.

Before Grams died, she was absolutely terrified that I wouldn't be able to protect the house from my parents. Even though she could barely walk, she forced herself to go down to the notary office.

The clerk had asked her, "Ma'am, are you absolutely certain this property is to be transferred solely to your granddaughter, Sloane?"

Grams was sitting in a wheelchair. Her voice was incredibly slow, but every single syllable was forged in steel.

"I am certain."

"This child has never known a day of real love in that house. This property is her armor. No one is allowed to take it from her."

That was the last time she ever left the house.

On the cab ride home, she leaned against the window, looked at me with a soft smile, and asked, "Sloane, are you happy you finally have a home of your own?"

I had cried so hard I could only nod.

Now, my mother had taken that sacred gift and publicly labeled it as 'embezzlement.'

The HR assistant walked up to my desk, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"Sloane, Greg wants to see you in his office."

Inside the glass-walled office, an official suspension notice was already sitting on Greg's desk.

"Your personal drama has severely impacted the company's professional image," my manager said coldly. "We are reassigning your current project to Justin."

I stared at the piece of paper.

That project was the result of three months of agonizing overtime. I had rewritten the core proposal seventeen times.

Now, he was just handing it over to a junior employee.

"Greg, this is a coordinated smear campaign," I kept my voice steady. "I can provide full documentation to prove it."

He clicked his expensive pen and tossed it onto the desk.

"I have zero interest in playing referee for your toxic family disputes. Please leave my office."

I grabbed the suspension notice and walked out of the building.

Standing right outside the lobby's revolving doors was Lexi.

She was wearing a pristine white sundress, expensive strappy heels, and carrying the newest season Chanel bag I had paid for.

The second she saw me, she jogged over, her eyes perfectly rimmed with red like she had been weeping.

"Sloane, please don't be mad at Mom and Dad anymore."

A few of my coworkers purposely slowed their pace as they walked past us, eavesdropping.

Lexi grabbed my sleeve, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"If you just go to the clerk's office and transfer the deed to my name today, I will make Mom go into your company chat and clear everything up."

"She'll just say it was all a big misunderstanding."

I looked down at her completely flawless makeup.

"That is Grams' house. She left it to me."

Lexi furrowed her brow, looking genuinely annoyed.

"You live alone. Keeping a house that big is a complete waste of space."

"Mom and Dad said that house is much better suited for me."

I calmly pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit record on the voice memo app.

"So, what you just said is... as long as I sign my house over to you, you will clear my name at work. Is that correct?"

Lexi's eye twitched. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone out of my hand.

"You're recording me?! Sloane, you are literally psychotic!"

I sidestepped her easily.

"Go back and tell Mom and Dad."

"I am not giving up a single square inch of that property."

"And none of you will ever see another dime of my money as long as you live."

Lexi stood frozen in front of the glass lobby doors, her voice rising to a hysterical screech.

"You are going to regret this! Mom and Dad are going to ruin you!"

I didn't even look back.

But when I finally got back to my apartment complex that evening and slid my key into the deadbolt, it wouldn't turn.

I looked closer.

The entire lock cylinder was brand new.

I could hear the television blaring inside my living room, mixed with the loud, abrasive laughter of my parents.

I pounded my fists against the door.

The apartment went dead silent for two seconds.

Then, my father's smug voice drifted through the heavy wood.

"Ready to go sign the transfer papers?"