Chapter 3

A few days later, my phone rang. It was Andrew.

"Gabi, you need to come home. Now." His voice was strained, urgent. "It' s Mom. She' s having a panic attack. A really bad one."

My heart seized. Despite everything, the instinct to protect my mother was still there. I was at a school-organized trip to the NASA Space Center in Houston, a small reward Dr. Fuller had arranged for his top students. I immediately excused myself, caught the first bus back, and rushed to the ranch.

I burst through the front door, calling my mother' s name.

"SURPRISE!"

The living room exploded with laughter. My entire family was there, along with the household staff, all wearing party hats. Molly stood in the center, holding a large, frosted cake.

It wasn' t a panic attack. It was a prank.

"We wanted to throw you a little welcome home party!" Molly chirped, her eyes gleaming with malice. She took a step forward and, with a theatrical flourish, smashed the cake directly into my face.

Frosting filled my eyes and nose. The room erupted in howls of laughter. My father clapped Andrew on the back, both of them roaring.

"Look at her!" Molly shrieked with glee. "She looks just like the little stray dog we found on the street!"

I stood there, dripping with cream and chocolate, humiliated. A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. I didn' t play along. I didn' t force a smile. I turned to leave.

"Where do you think you' re going?" My father' s voice was sharp. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Don' t you dare be ungrateful. We did all this for you."

He slapped me again, right there in front of everyone. The laughter died down, replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

That' s when Molly noticed my dress. It was a simple, new cotton dress, a gift from Dr. Fuller for my academic achievements. It was the nicest thing I owned.

"Ooh, a new dress," Molly said, her voice dripping with insinuation. "Where did you get the money for that, Gabi? Did you find a rich old man to buy it for you? Like your teacher, maybe?"

The accusation hung in the air, vile and poisonous.

Andrew' s face darkened. He believed her instantly. He had always believed her.

"You filthy little tramp," he snarled, stepping toward me. "You' re disgracing this family."

He grabbed the neckline of my dress. I heard the fabric start to rip. In that moment, something snapped. All the years of enduring, of hoping, of being their punching bag, vanished.

My hand flew up and I slapped him across the face, hard. The sound was like a gunshot in the silent room.

Andrew stared at me, his hand on his cheek, his eyes wide with shock.

My father' s face was purple with rage. "That' s it. You' ve gone too far. You' ll stay in the wine cellar until you learn to reflect on what you' ve done."

Two of the security guards grabbed my arms and dragged me, kicking and struggling, down to the cold, dark cellar. The heavy oak door slammed shut, and I heard the bolt slide into place.

I was locked in, but for the first time in my life, I felt free. The last tie that bound me to them had just been severed.