Sitting in his old velvet chair that night, I finally stopped searching for the love and approval of a family that saw me only as a resource.
The following Sunday, I went to lunch at my parents’ house and performed the role of the dutiful, oblivious daughter perfectly.
I smiled through the meal and casually mentioned that my upcoming flight to London was scheduled for Friday and would last for three weeks.
I noticed my mother looked down at her plate far too quickly to be natural, while my father offered a strained, supportive smile.
Chloe feigned a burst of excitement for my career, but I could see her eyes sparkling as if she were already mentally spending my inheritance.
I smiled back at all of them, though the warmth in my expression was entirely fake and my heart felt like a piece of cold stone.
However, I never actually booked that flight to London, and I certainly had no intention of leaving my home unprotected.
Instead, I booked a room at a boutique hotel located only ten minutes away from my apartment building to serve as my base of operations.
I spent the next two days installing high-definition hidden cameras throughout my home and saving the recording of the kitchen conversation.
I also took the liberty of visiting the local precinct to file a preliminary police report regarding the potential theft of my property.
