Sophia's POV
Derek's smirk didn't even falter.
"Your things?" He tilted his head like I'd asked about the weather. "Oh, you mean that little box of junk? Sold it. Every piece."
The air left my lungs.
"You—" My voice cracked. "Those were my mother's. My father's. You had no right—"
"I had every right." He pushed off the doorframe and took a step toward me. "You lived under my roof. Ate my food. Used my money. Consider it rent."
My nails dug into my palms so hard I felt skin break.
"That bracelet was the last thing my father ever gave me." Each word came out like broken glass. "You knew that."
"Sophia." He sighed, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. "You should be grateful I didn't take more."
The front door opened behind me.
Derek's expression changed. The smugness cracked—just
