The first thing I heard was Mom’s voice, soft and rushed, as the morning sun sliced through the blinds and hit my face like a slap.
“Honey, Mommy’s gonna go to work. Be a good girl, okay? Breakfast is on the counter. Don’t forget to lock up when you leave for campus later.”
I stirred under the sheets, black dress from last night still twisted around me like a second skin. “Hmm,” I mumbled, voice thick with fake sleep. In my head though? I smirked hard. *A good girl… just for my new stepdaddy.*
She leaned over, kissed my forehead quick—smelling like her usual vanilla perfume and that millennial makeup routine she did every morning: full glam even for a 9-to-5. Foundation, contour, lashes, the works. She was already in her blazer and heels, phone in hand, scrolling emails.
I stretched sl
