That summer, everything fell apart. The money was gone. Dad was gone. And just when I needed family most, my stepmother gave me a price for staying.I had spent ten years working three jobs, saving every penny to open my dream bookstore café. Then my landlord hiked the rent, and I lost my apartment. Days later, Dad died — and that’s when everything truly broke.
Raymond. That’s how I still thought of him. After Mom passed, it was just us. He read me stories, promised I’d never be alone. And I believed him — until Lydia came along.She smiled sweetly. “I want us to be a family.” Her daughter, Chloe, promised to be a sister. I tried to believe them. But after the wedding, Lydia took over everything. Chloe mocked my books. Dad whispered over the phone, “I feel like a guest in my own house.”
When he died, I went back to say goodbye and catch my breath. I thought I still belonged there. But at the funeral, the lawyer read Dad’s will: the house was mine — but only if Lydia agreed to the terms.Later, behind closed doors, Lydia smiled coldly. “Buy Chloe an apartment,” she said. “Or we’ll make living here miserable.”I had no choice. I stayed. And it was hell. Chloe blasted music and mocked me. Lydia stopped cooking for me. One day I came home to find my room emptied, my things dumped in the rain.
That night, I called Cynthia — Lydia’s estranged mother. The one person she hated more than me. And someone with a legal right to the house. “It’s Hannah,” I said. “I need your help.”The next morning, I woke up to Lydia screaming. Cynthia was in the kitchen, burning sage and muttering blessings. “I’m cleansing the air,” she said. “Raymond deserves peace.”
Lydia lost it. But Cynthia didn’t blink. “I’ve got the original will,” she said. “Raymond gave it to me. Take me to court. I’ll tell them everything.”Chloe wailed, “Where will we go?”You’ve got that place upstate,” Cynthia said with a smile. “Plenty of space for family bonding.”By evening, Lydia and Chloe were gone.Cynthia and I sat with tea. She raised her mug. “To Raymond. And to strong girls who don’t let witches win.”I laughed — really laughed. “To family.”And for the first time in weeks, I felt free. The house was mine. My dream could begin. Dad would’ve been proud.