But as he helped Lily into her seat, I saw his jaw was tight. This wasn’t luck to him. This was something else entirely. Once the kids were settled, he turned to me.
“Get in. We need to talk.”
I climbed into the passenger seat, and the familiar smell of sawdust and coffee surrounded me. How many times had I ridden in this truck growing up? How many times had Dad picked me up from school, from failed dates, from mistakes I’d made? And here I was again, needing him to rescue me—except this time, I’d brought two innocent kids into my mess.
He didn’t start the engine. Instead, he turned to face me fully, and I saw something in his eyes I’d never seen before. Not anger exactly—something colder, steadier, more dangerous.
“How long has this been going on, Jessica?”
“Three weeks,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It started small. Amber said she needed to impress some clients, and her car wasn’t nice enough. Trevor agreed to lend her mine before I could even say anything. Then it was supposed to be just one day, then a weekend. Then Nicole said her car was in the shop and needed it too. And suddenly it’s been three weeks and—”
“And you’ve been hauling my grandchildren on buses and subways with groceries.”
It wasn’t a question. I tried to say no. The words tumbled out now, desperate and ashamed.
“I told Trevor I needed it—that the kids had doctor appointments and grocery shopping and Lily’s ballet classes—but he said I was being selfish. He said family helps family. And then when I really put my foot down last week, when I demanded the keys back…”
I trailed off, remembering that night in my kitchen. Trevor’s face had been so different from the man I’d married, and Amber and Nicole had stood behind him like some kind of backup force, their faces smug and satisfied.
“When you demanded the keys back, what happened?”
Dad’s voice was dangerously quiet.
“They were all there. Trevor and both his sisters. They cornered me and—” My throat closed, but I forced it out. “They said if I didn’t stop being difficult, I’d see what life was like without his support. Amber called me ungrateful. Nicole said just because my dad had money didn’t mean I was raised with any class. And Trevor just stood there agreeing with them.”
I was crying fully now—ugly tears I’d been holding back for weeks.
“I was scared, Dad. Not physically, but… the way they all looked at me, the things they said. I felt so small. So I’ve just been managing—taking the subway, the bus, whatever I needed to do. I told everyone the car was having problems. I didn’t want anyone to know what really happened because it felt like admitting I’d completely failed.”
Dad held up his hand, and I stopped talking. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, putting it on speaker.
“Tom, it’s Rob Monroe. I need you to find out everything you can about Trevor Hayes and his sisters, Amber and Nicole Hayes. Everything. Financial records, legal issues, whatever you can dig up. I’ll pay whatever it takes, and I need it fast.”
He hung up and finally looked at me again.
“You didn’t fail at anything, sweetheart. But this ends now.”
Everything had seemed so normal that Sunday afternoon three weeks ago. Trevor had insisted we go to his parents’ house for dinner, even though I’d mentioned wanting to have a quiet weekend at home with the kids. But he’d been insistent, saying his mom really wanted to see the children, and I’d learned that disagreeing about family visits usually wasn’t worth the argument that followed.
The Hayes family home was exactly what you’d expect from people who valued appearance above almost everything else: perfectly landscaped lawn, furniture that looked expensive but wasn’t comfortable, and family photos arranged just so on every available surface. Trevor’s mother, Patricia, greeted us at the door with her usual air kisses that didn’t actually touch my cheeks, while his father, Donald, barely looked up from his newspaper. Amber arrived twenty minutes after us, making her entrance like always—complaining loudly about a client who just didn’t understand the value of premium real estate. She worked as a real estate agent, though from what I could tell, she spent more time taking selfies in expensive houses than actually selling them.
“Oh, Jessica, I love that sweater,” she said when she saw me, in that tone that somehow made a compliment sound like an insult. “So brave of you to wear something so casual to family dinner.”
I’d been wearing a nice cream cardigan over a dress, but somehow Amber made me feel like I’d shown up in pajamas. Nicole arrived last, as usual—her dental hygienist scrubs traded for designer jeans and a top that probably cost more than my weekly grocery budget. She and Amber immediately huddled together, whispering and giggling about something on Nicole’s phone, occasionally glancing at me in a way that made my skin crawl.
Dinner had been fine: Patricia’s pot roast, polite conversation about Trevor’s work, the kids being relatively well-behaved. I’d started to relax, thinking maybe I’d worried about nothing. Then came dessert.
“So,” Amber said, setting down her fork and fixing me with that calculated smile she wore when she wanted something, “I have this amazing opportunity coming up. Really high-end clients looking at properties in the million-dollar range. They’re flying in from California, and first impressions are everything in this business.”
“That sounds exciting,” I said, genuinely trying to be supportive.
“The thing is,” she continued, leaning forward like she was sharing a secret, “my car is just—well, it’s fine for everyday, but it doesn’t exactly scream success. You know? I need something that looks the part.”
I felt Trevor shift beside me, and somehow I knew where this was going before Amber even finished her sentence.
“That SUV of yours would be perfect,” she said, her tone light and casual, like she was asking to borrow a cup of sugar. “Just for a few days while I show these clients around. You understand how important image is, right?”
Every eye at the table turned to me. Patricia smiled encouragingly. Donald nodded like this was perfectly reasonable. Nicole watched with barely concealed amusement.
“Oh, well, I—”
