“The money that was legally mine.”

“That money was for the family,” Father said.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it was sharp as a blade.

“It was meant to rebuild our lives.”

“It was meant for my surgeries,” I said.

“It was meant to fix the skin on my back and my arm.”

I pointed to my left side, where the fabric hid the thick, puckered tissue.

“It was meant to pay for the skin grafts I never got.”

Chloe frowned, her brow furrowing.

“But Mom said the insurance didn’t cover the surgeries,” Chloe said.

“She said we didn’t have the money.”

I laughed, a dry, bitter sound.

“We had the money, Chloe,” I said.

“We had hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“But you didn’t see any of it because of where it went.”

Father stepped closer, his shadow falling over me.

“If you say another word, Maya, you are no longer a part of this family,” he said.

“You will pack your bags tonight.”

“I have already packed them,” I said.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.