Chapter 7

Morning sunlight filtered through the grime-coated windows of the Queens apartment, illuminating the stale cigarette smoke hanging in the air.

Amira pushed the front door open.

Her brother, Jax, was sitting at the dining table, wearing a pair of three-hundred-dollar gaming headphones, violently smashing his keyboard. He didn't even look up.

Agnes walked out of the kitchen, wearing a grease-stained bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee. When she saw Amira, a smug, nasty smile stretched across her face.

"I knew you wouldn't last a night out there," Agnes sneered. "Ready to accept reality?"

Amira ignored her. She walked straight past Agnes and headed for her tiny, windowless bedroom at the end of the hall.

Agnes followed her, her voice grating against Amira's eardrums. "Good. Because I already told Mr. Henderson we're meeting him for lunch tomorrow to finalize the engagement."

Amira dropped to her knees, pulled a battered suitcase from under her bed, and started throwing her few faded shirts inside.

Agnes stopped talking. She lunged into the room and grabbed Amira's wrist, her nails digging into the skin. "What the hell are you doing?"

Amira ripped her arm away. Her eyes were dead. "I found a way to pay my tuition. I'm moving out."

Agnes's eyes bugged out. Then she let out a loud, screeching laugh. "Did you sell yourself on the street? Or did you find some idiot to take you in?"

The toxic words sprayed over Amira's face. Whatever tiny, pathetic thread of biological loyalty she had left for this woman snapped completely.

Amira zipped the suitcase shut. She stood up and looked at Agnes like she was looking at a stranger on the subway.

"From today on, I owe this family nothing," Amira said, her voice eerily calm. "Jax can earn his own tuition."

Hearing her precious son's name, Agnes lost her mind. She realized Amira was actually cutting off the cash flow.

Agnes lunged forward like a rabid dog, grabbing the handle of the suitcase.

Amira yanked it back. The two women struggled in the cramped space, bumping into the walls.

In the scuffle, the heavy folder Amira had been clutching under her arm was knocked loose, hitting the floor and fanning open. Agnes's eagle eyes instantly locked onto the bold print on the exposed page: $5,000 monthly living expenses.

"What is this?" Agnes dove for the paper, her eyes wide with shock and pure, unadulterated greed. Amira snatched it back instantly and shoved it down the front of her shirt, her heart sinking-she never intended for Agnes to see that.

Agnes didn't get the paper, but she knew what she saw. Her tone instantly flipped. "Amira, sweetheart, you found a rich one! You have to give that money to Jax. He needs it!"

Amira looked at her mother's sickeningly sweet face. Her stomach physically revolted. She felt like she was going to throw up.

"Not a single cent," Amira said coldly. "Never."

Agnes's face contorted into a mask of pure malice. She realized manipulation wouldn't work. She needed force.

Amira turned her back for one second to grab her passport off the nightstand.

Agnes bolted out of the room.

SLAM.

The heavy wooden door shut violently.

Amira jumped. She rushed to the door and twisted the brass knob. It didn't move.

Click. Clack.

The distinct sound of a heavy metal padlock snapping shut echoed from the hallway. Agnes had locked her in from the outside.

Amira pounded her fists against the wood. But with every blow, her head throbbed harder, and the room began to tilt. Her breath came in shallow, burning hitches.

"Open the door! What are you doing?!" Her voice cracked, the adrenaline that had sustained her finally bottoming out.

Agnes's voice was muffled but perfectly clear through the wood. "You are not leaving this room until Mr. Henderson comes to pick you up tomorrow at noon."

Amira stumbled backward. She stared at the locked door. The freezing rain from the night before suddenly caught up with her. A massive wave of dizziness hit her brain, and her knees buckled.