Chapter 4

"Where the hell is my mother’s camera?"

I didn't realize my hands were shaking until I spoke the words aloud.

It was noon the next day when I returned to the condo.

I had searched the master closet twice. The grey velvet pouch at the very bottom—the one that held my mother’s vintage film camera—was empty.

I grabbed my phone and called Ethan.

He didn't pick up the first time. The second time, he answered. The background was noisy, sounding like a school sports field.

"Where is my mom's camera?"

"What camera?"

"The Minolta X-700. In the grey pouch. At the bottom of the closet."

"Oh," he said, turning away to speak to someone else before coming back. "Chloe said her photography club needed a vintage film camera for a demonstration. I figured that thing was just gathering dust anyway—"

"You gave my mother’s camera to her?!"

"It's just for two days, Clara."

I slammed the phone down.

By the time I drove to the school, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the steering wheel. I had driven this route a thousand times, but it had never felt this long.

The school track field.

The sun was bright.

Chloe was wearing a white hoodie, her hair tied with that same yellow silk ribbon. She was holding my mother’s camera, pressing the shutter as she pointed it at Ethan. He was standing in the middle of the track, hands in his pockets, laughing effortlessly.

They looked like a cute college couple taking engagement photos.

Using my mother’s legacy.

Chloe adjusted the lens, pinching her nose. "This lens is so old and clunky. It won't even focus properly."

She grabbed the lens barrel with both hands and twisted hard.

"Don't touch that!" I screamed.

*Crack.*

The lens mount snapped.

Glass and plastic shards scattered onto the track, bouncing before coming to a stop.

I froze, feeling completely hollowed out. That sound was heavier than anything else—heavier than his lies, heavier than Chloe’s fake innocence, heavier than all the silent endurance of the past three years combined.

Chloe let out a sharp gasp, taking a step back.

"Clara! You—you scared me!"

I knelt down on the track to pick up the broken pieces.

A sharp shard sliced my palm. Blood began to well up, but I felt absolutely nothing.

Chloe’s voice drifted down from above. "I didn't mean to, Clara. I didn't know it was so fragile..."

"Don't touch me," I whispered.

"Clara, you're bleeding. Let me help you up—"

As she reached out, I shoved her away.

I didn't hit her hard. But she stumbled back a couple of steps, tripped over her own sneakers, and sat hard on the track, clutching her stomach and screaming.

Ethan rushed over.

Not to me.

He sprinted right past me, throwing his arms around Chloe. "Are you okay? Does your stomach hurt? Don't move, don't move!"

Then he whipped his head around, pointing a finger at me.

"Are you insane?! She's pregnant! You live in my house, eat my food, and now you're trying to kill a baby over a piece-of-shit old camera?!"

"Get lost!" I yelled.

Several teachers and students had gathered around the track.

A few had already pulled out their phones.

I stood there, blood dripping from my palm, the broken glass still clenched in my fist.

The warm afternoon sun shone down on everyone, but it felt cold to me.

I didn't cry. Not a single tear.

"Your house?"

My voice was quiet, but it made Ethan freeze.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a stamped document—the property deed. I had brought it because I was supposed to meet my lawyer today.

I opened it and held it up for everyone to see.

The name on the deed was clear as day: *Clara Miller.*

"I bought this luxury condo in cash three years ago, Ethan. To protect your fragile little ego, I had my uncle pretend to be the landlord so you wouldn't feel emasculated."

The track field fell dead silent, save for the wind.

Ethan’s mouth hung open, but no words came out.

"And that 'District Educator of the Year' anonymous grant you received?" I squeezed the glass in my palm, speaking louder. "That was my money. An anonymous endowment of fifty thousand dollars. For three years."

"You eat my food, you drink my wine, you live in my house."

Chloe, still sitting on the ground, stared up at Ethan. The adoration in her eyes shattered into pieces.

"Now," I said, looking down at them. "Take your mistress and get the hell out of my condo."

I turned to walk away.

After two steps, I paused, not bothering to look back.

"And that camera was the only thing my mother left me. It’s broken. And you can never afford to pay me back."

***