I glanced at Troy. His eyes hardened—not in concern, but in irritation.
“Bianca, go upstairs. You don’t need to see this.”
And then he walked away. Left me there.
I staggered to the kitchen, my hands trembling as I fumbled through the drawers, searching for my EpiPen and allergy meds. My body was shutting down, but I fought to stay conscious. I swallowed a pill, just enough to stabilize myself.
An hour later, I collapsed in bed, utterly drained, barely hanging on to life. Sleep took me swiftly, mercifully.
When I woke, it was dark. Something felt… wrong. I got up slowly, my legs shaky. I made my way to my closet—and froze. The shelves were in disarray. My drawers were torn open. Boxes had been dumped out like someone had ransacked my room. And the velvet case that held my mother’s bracelet—gone
My pulse spiked. My stomach twisted with dread. I ran out of the room, heading for the backyard.
That’s when I saw her. Bianca. She stood by the pool in her swimsuit. Smiling. Wearing my bracelet.
The last thing my mother had ever given me before she died.
Something inside me snapped. I stormed over to her, grabbing her wrist with all the fury that had been building inside me for months.