Chapter 2: The Secret Behind the Blue Paint
Mom's coffee cup rattled against its saucer.
"Brianna," she said sharply.
"Go downstairs.""
Brianna didn't move.
I looked between them.
"What does she have to tell me?""
"Nothing," Mom replied too quickly.
Brianna let out a bitter laugh.
"Of course. Nothing. That's what you always say.""
Mom reached for her arm.
"I said downstairs.""
Brianna pulled away.
"No. I'm tired of pretending this is normal.""
My fingers tightened around the dress hanger.
"What are you talking about?""
Brianna stared at me for a moment, and I saw something I had never expected to see in her face.
Fear.
Not fear of getting punished.
Fear of being exposed.
"Ask Mom where the money came from," she said.
Mom went completely still.
I glanced down at the dress.
"What money?""
Brianna swallowed.
"The money for your ceremony.""
Mom's face drained of color.
"That's enough.""
"No, it's not!"" Brianna snapped.
"You told me not to say anything, but she's standing there acting like she earned all of this herself.""
I felt as though the hallway floor had tilted beneath my feet.
"I did earn it. I worked for my dress.""
"I'm not talking about the dress," Brianna said.
She pointed toward the staircase.
"I'm talking about the ceremony.""
Mom grabbed her wrist.
"Get downstairs. Now.""
Brianna jerked free and disappeared down the hall.
For several seconds, Mom and I stood facing each other.
Then she reached for the dress.
"Let me see what you've done.""
I pulled it away.
"Tell me what she meant.""
"Mia, it's early. You haven't slept. You're upset.""
"Don't do that.""
"Do what?""
"Act like I'm too emotional to understand what's happening.""
Mom's lips pressed together.
I had heard that tone before. It was the one she used whenever a conversation approached a truth she didn't want to acknowledge.
She glanced at the dress again.
"It's beautiful," she said quietly.
"Thank you.""
"You should get some rest before the ceremony.""
"Mom.""
She sighed.
"Everything has been paid for. That's all you need to know.""
She turned away.
I caught her sleeve.
"Who paid for it?""
She looked at my hand until I released her.
"Your stepfather and I handled it.""
"With what money?""
"Family money.""
That answer should have reassured me.
Instead, it made my stomach twist.
Because our family was not wealthy. Mark ran a small auto repair shop, and Mom worked part-time at a dental office. We paid our bills, but expensive surprises were usually followed by months of complaints about grocery prices.
A formal ceremony, a rented hall, catering, flowers, a photographer, and new clothes for the entire family were not small expenses.
I had heard Mark argue about the cost for weeks.
Yet Mom insisted everything was covered.
"Did Dad leave money for me?"" I asked.
Her eyes snapped toward mine.
"Don't bring your father into this.""
"Why not?""
"Because he's gone, Mia.""
"I know he's gone!""
My voice echoed down the hallway.
Mom flinched.
For a moment, I regretted shouting. Then I remembered the countless times she had used my father's death to end conversations she didn't want to have.
I lowered my voice.
"He left me a little savings account. Grandma told me about it last year. She said he wanted me to have something when I turned eighteen.""
Mom stared at me.
"That account was very small.""
"How do you know?""
She didn't answer.
I took a step back.
"Mom, did you use my money?""
Her silence was answer enough to make my hands go cold.
Before she could speak, Mark appeared at the top of the stairs, buttoning his shirt.
"What's all this shouting about?""
I turned toward him.
"Did you use the money Dad left me?""
His face hardened.
"Who told you that?""
"No one. I'm asking you.""
He glanced at Mom, then back at me.
"That account was supposed to help the family after your father died. Your mother had expenses. We all did.""
"It was mine.""
"You were a child.""
"It was mine.""
He exhaled sharply.
"Your mother and I made decisions for this household. That's what parents do.""
"Then why did Grandma say it was being saved for me?""
Mark's jaw tightened.
"Because your grandmother has no idea what raising a family costs.""
Mom stepped between us.
"Enough. We're not having this conversation today.""
"Why? Because the ceremony is today?""
"Because you're tired and angry!""
"No," I said.
"Because you don't want to tell me the truth.""
Mark pointed toward my room.
"Get dressed. The photographer arrives at ten.""
I stared at him.
"That's all you care about?""
"I care about this family not being humiliated.""
He walked away.
Mom lingered for another moment, her expression caught between guilt and irritation.
Then she followed him downstairs.
I closed my bedroom door.
My beautiful dress lay across the bed, and the first sunlight of the morning fell over its blue flowers.
I wanted to feel proud.
Instead, I kept hearing Brianna's words.
Ask Mom where the money came from.
I went to my desk and opened the bottom drawer, where I kept old birthday cards, school certificates, and a small box of things that had belonged to my father.
Inside was a photograph of us at the beach.
He was carrying me on his shoulders. I was laughing so hard that my eyes were closed.
On the back, he'd written something in his familiar handwriting.
For my girl. Always remember that being loved is not something you have to earn.
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
Then I remembered something else.
My father had an older sister, Aunt Rachel, whom Mom rarely mentioned. Rachel lived several states away and had attended my father's funeral, but after Mom remarried, our contact had gradually disappeared.
Last year, Grandma had accidentally let something slip during a visit.
Rachel had asked about my coming-of-age ceremony.
She had wanted to help pay for it.
Mom had told Grandma that Rachel wasn't interested anymore.
I had believed her.
Now I wasn't sure what to believe.
I pulled out my phone and searched my contacts.
Aunt Rachel's number was still there.
My thumb hovered over it.
Before I could call, a message appeared.
It was from an unfamiliar number.
*Mia, it's Rachel. Your grandmother gave me your number. Please call me before the ceremony. It's important.*
My heart began to race.
I typed back immediately.
*What's wrong?*
The reply came within seconds.
*Your mother told me you already knew about the money. Please tell me that's true.*
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
*I transferred $12,000 for your ceremony and your future. Your mother promised me every cent would be kept for you.*
I sat down hard on the edge of the bed.
Twelve thousand dollars.
I read the message again.
Then I typed with trembling fingers.
*I don't understand. Mom said everything was paid for.*
Rachel called immediately.
I answered.
"Mia?"" Her voice was warm but strained.
"Are you alone?""
"Yes.""
"Good. I need you to listen carefully. I sent your mother the money four months ago. She told me the venue, the catering, and your dress would be paid for without touching your father's savings.""
I swallowed.
"My dress came from my own wages.""
Rachel went silent.
"What?""
"I bought it myself.""
"Oh, sweetheart.""
The tenderness in her voice nearly broke me.
I looked at the dress.
"How much was the ceremony supposed to cost?""
"Your mother gave me a budget of twelve thousand dollars. She said she wanted you to have the celebration your father would have wanted.""
"And did you ask for receipts?""
"I did. She sent me a list of expenses last month. Everything looked reasonable.""
"Did you see the venue?""
"No. I was planning to arrive today as a surprise.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then you should come.""
"I am coming. I'm already on my way to the airport.""
A sudden noise outside my room made me turn.
Brianna stood in the doorway.
She had been listening.
Her eyes were wet.
"Mia," she whispered.
"There's something else.""
I covered the phone.
"What?""
She stepped inside and shut the door.
Then she reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"I found this in Mom's desk," she said.
"Last night, before I took the paint upstairs.""
I stared at the paper.
"What is it?""
Brianna held it out, her hand trembling.
"A receipt. For something she bought with your money.""
I unfolded it.
At the top was the name of a luxury jewelry store.
Below it was the description of a diamond necklace.
The purchase date was four months earlier.
The amount was $8,750.
And the name printed beneath the transaction details was not my mother's.
It was Brianna's.
I looked up slowly.
"Why is your name on this?""
Brianna's lips trembled.
"Because Mom told me it was my birthday present.""
"But your birthday was last month.""
"I know.""
She looked toward the door, then back at me.
"She said it was an early gift. She said Dad had agreed to buy it for me.""
"Mark?""
Brianna nodded.
"But last night, I heard them arguing. Mom told him she couldn't keep paying for things out of the account because Rachel was asking questions.""
My fingers tightened around the receipt.
"Why did you throw paint on my dress?""
Brianna's face crumpled.
For the first time since I could remember, she looked genuinely ashamed.
"Because I thought you were getting everything again," she whispered.
"I thought Mom had spent all that money on you, and I was angry. I didn't know she'd used your money for my necklace.""
I stared at her.
"So you destroyed the one thing I paid for myself because you thought I was the favorite?""
She lowered her head.
"I know.""
"You knew I worked for months to buy that dress.""
"I know.""
"You watched me cry.""
"I know!""
Her voice broke.
"I thought if you were miserable for once, maybe I wouldn't feel like the only person in this house who didn't matter.""
The room went silent.
I wanted to hate her.
Part of me did.
But the girl standing in front of me was no longer the smug sister who had watched paint drip down my dress.
She was a girl who had been manipulated into believing love was a competition.
That didn't excuse what she'd done.
It only made the truth uglier.
My phone was still connected to Rachel.
"Mia?"" she asked quietly.
"What did you find?""
I looked at the receipt.
"Proof that someone has been spending money meant for me.""
Rachel's voice changed.
"Don't confront your mother alone. I'm coming there, and I want you to keep that receipt somewhere safe.""
I folded the paper carefully.
"Okay.""
Then I looked at Brianna.
"Why did you bring this to me?""
She wiped her face with her sleeve.
"Because I heard Mom talking to Mark this morning.""
"What did she say?""
Brianna swallowed.
"She said if Rachel showed up today, the ceremony had to go exactly as planned.""
"Why?""
May you like
Brianna stared at me.
"Because there's something in the program she doesn't want you to see.""
