Chapter 1: The Girl Who Got a Grocery Card
On my eighteenth birthday, my father handed my twin sister the keys to a brand-new BMW, then gave me a grocery-store gift card in front of nearly a hundred guests. Three minutes later, an estate attorney walked into our backyard carrying a leather folder that made my father forget how to breathe.
I still remember the sunlight.
It poured across the Carter family backyard in warm, golden sheets, illuminating white tablecloths, blue hydrangeas, silver balloons, and the enormous birthday cake sitting beneath a flower-covered arch. A DJ played old-school R&B beside the swimming pool. My aunts wore matching smiles. My cousins held their phones high, recording everything.
It was supposed to be the happiest afternoon of my life.
My father, James Carter, stood beside the driveway in his expensive navy suit, one hand resting on the roof of a brand-new silver BMW.
My twin sister, Serena, stood beside him in a shimmering silver dress, her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders.
I stood ten feet away in my blue birthday dress, trying to convince myself that the tightness in my chest was nothing.
"Everybody, gather around!"" Dad announced.
The conversations stopped.
He lifted a small velvet box, opened it, and revealed a set of car keys.
Serena's mouth fell open.
"Daddy, what is that?"" she squealed.
James smiled, enjoying the attention.
"Your first car, sweetheart. Brand-new. Fully paid for.""
The backyard erupted.
My aunt Denise clapped so hard her bracelets rattled. Someone whistled. My cousins rushed toward the BMW, admiring its spotless paint and pristine leather interior.
Serena threw her arms around Dad.
"Oh my God! Daddy, I love you!""
"I know you do, baby girl," he said, kissing her forehead.
"You deserve the best.""
Those words landed harder than I expected.
I looked at my father, waiting.
Surely he would call me forward next. Perhaps there was another surprise tucked away somewhere. Maybe he had planned something smaller, something meaningful.
Dad reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out a white envelope.
"Aaliyah," he called.
I walked toward him, my braids brushing the back of my dress.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart.""
He placed the envelope in my palm.
It was almost weightless.
Inside was a grocery-store gift card.
Twenty-five dollars.
For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to disappear. I stared at the card, at the cheerful little picture of fresh vegetables printed across its front.
Then I looked up.
Dad was already turning back toward Serena.
"Let's get some pictures by the car," he announced.
I forced my lips into a smile.
"Thank you, Daddy.""
He barely looked at me.
Serena noticed me standing beside the dessert table a few minutes later. She approached with the BMW keys dangling from one finger.
"What did he give you?"" she asked.
I held up the card.
"A grocery card.""
Her smile faltered.
"What? Seriously?""
"Apparently, I'm responsible for feeding myself now.""
"Aaliyah, I didn't know he was going to—"
"It's fine, Serena.""
"It doesn't look fine.""
"Then don't look at me.""
She flinched.
I regretted the words immediately. Serena hadn't chosen the car. She hadn't asked Dad to make me feel like an unwanted guest at my own birthday party.
But she had accepted the keys while I stood there.
And Dad had watched me accept the card.
Across the yard, he laughed with two business associates, one hand resting possessively on Serena's shoulder whenever she came near him.
I slipped the card into my small blue purse.
My mother, Evelyn, had been dead for six years. She used to say that a person's character showed most clearly when they believed nobody important was watching.
I wondered what she would have thought of this afternoon.
I wondered whether she would have hugged me, taken me inside, and whispered that I deserved better.
Most of all, I wondered why Dad seemed so determined to make me feel small.
Then the front door opened.
A man in a charcoal suit stepped onto the patio carrying a worn leather briefcase. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, with silver threading his temples and an expression that made people instinctively move out of his way.
He ignored the buffet table.
He ignored the guests.
His eyes traveled across the backyard until they found me.
Then he started walking directly toward me.
Dad spotted him.
The smile vanished from his face.
He set down his champagne glass so quickly that liquid spilled across the tablecloth.
"Who invited him?"" Dad muttered.
I turned.
The stranger stopped in front of me.
"Miss Aaliyah Carter?""
"Yes?""
"My name is Daniel Whitmore. I'm an estate attorney.""
He opened his briefcase and removed a sealed leather folder.
"I've spent the last six months trying to locate you.""
My father pushed through the gathering crowd.
"Daniel," he said sharply.
"This is neither the time nor the place.""
Daniel didn't look at him.
He held the folder out to me.
"Your mother left instructions that this must be delivered directly into your hands on your eighteenth birthday.""
I stared at the folder.
"My mother?""
Daniel nodded.
Then he said the words that changed everything.
"Your mother left the Whitmore estate to you.""
May you like
Behind him, my father went completely pale.
And for the first time in eighteen years, James Carter looked at me as if he were afraid of what I might discover.
