A week later, Lucy appeared at my apartment. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, hair thrown into a careless bun. She stood in the doorway for a long moment before speaking.
“You turned him against us.”
I stared at her. “You took something that didn’t belong to you.”
“It was just a car, Natalie.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “To you. To me, it was the first time anyone in this family truly acknowledged my worth. And you handed it off like it was nothing.”
She had no reply.
“I didn’t turn anyone against you,” I said. “You did that yourself.”
Her voice dropped. “He’s giving you everything.”
“No,” I corrected. “He’s trusting me with everything. That’s not the same thing.”
