My mother sat comfortably on the couch with that familiar, satisfied smile she always wore when Vanessa was running the show.
My aunt was there too, sipping iced tea like she was waiting for entertainment the way some people wait for dessert.
Finally, Vanessa turned toward me.
Her eyes were sharp, calculating.
“So,” she said casually, as if the conversation had already been happening for hours. “About the car.”
I didn’t pretend to be confused.
I had been avoiding this topic for an entire week.
Vanessa wanted a luxury SUV—something new, expensive, and flashy enough to make her feel superior during school pickup.
She’d framed it as a “fresh start.”
She’d also claimed it was “something Miles deserved.”
Apparently, in her mind, a child’s birthday justified a $70,000 purchase.
“I’m not buying you a car,” I said calmly.
