“And they’re not now.”
Carol’s expression changed in tiny increments, like shutters closing one at a time behind a window. “Your father and I make financial decisions together.”
“You said he doesn’t know.”
Carol’s smile disappeared.
Lily felt fear then, but it was the ordinary kind, the kind children feel when adults get angry and the room shifts around them. It was not yet the deeper fear.
She said, “I’m telling Dad.”
Carol took one step forward. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
The next part happened so quickly Lily would replay it later in fragments rather than sequence.
Carol grabbed her wrist.
Not hard enough to leave marks right away, but hard enough to make Lily gasp.
“Let go of me!”
Carol jerked the pouch from her hand and hissed, “You are not going to create drama in this house every time you feel emotional.”
“That’s Mom’s stuff!”
“And this is my house too,” Carol snapped.
Lily tried to pull back. Carol’s grip tightened. The polished kitchen, the lemon-scented cleaner, the soft hum of the refrigerator—everything in the room stayed normal while Carol’s face became something else entirely.
“You want to act wild?” Carol said. “You want to threaten me? Fine.”
She dragged Lily through the hallway so fast Lily slammed her shoulder into the doorframe. The basement stairs yawned below them, cool and shadowed. Lily dug in her heels, panicked now.
“Carol, stop!”
Carol said nothing.
