Chapter 2 - The Knock on the Door
The buzzer didn't just ring; it buzzed with an aggressive, rhythmic insistence that rattled the metal frame of my apartment door. Downstairs, through the camera screen, my father’s face was twisted in a scowl of pure, unfiltered fury. Beside him stood Officer Martinez, a local cop I recognized from a couple of emergency room drop-offs at St. Mary’s.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but the cold numbness in my veins kept me steady. Twelve-hour shifts in the ER teach you how to function when the room is spinning.
I opened the door before they could ring again.
“Jenna Marie!” my father boomed, stepping into the hallway as if he owned the lease. His expensive golf polo was already slightly damp from the morning humidity, and his silver hair was combed into a helmet of self-righteousness. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your absolute mind?”
Officer Martinez stepped past him, looking uncomfortable. He offered me an apologetic nod. “Morning, Jenna. Sorry about this. We got a call regarding an issue with… well, abandoned minors and an uncooperative guardian.”
I looked from the cop to my father. A bitter, humourless laugh escaped my throat.
“Abandoned minors?” I echoed, stepping aside so they could see inside my small living room. Mason was currently trying to peel the wallpaper off the baseboard, Ava was holding crying Ellie in her lap, and the two backpacks sat like anchors of exploitation by the coat rack. “Officer Martinez, look around. Do these kids look like they were left in my custody legally? Or were they dumped on my welcome mat while their parents booked an Uber to the airport?”
My father’s face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Don’t play games with me, young lady! We had an agreement. You agreed to help out.”
“I agreed to nothing of the sort, Dad,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Read the room. Read the itinerary.” I thrust the crumpled piece of paper into his chest. He recoiled as if it were burning him. “Look at the bottom. Childcare: Jenna. Not daughter. Not passenger. Not guest. You didn’t invite me on a family vacation. You hired me without my consent, without pay, and without even the basic human decency of telling me to my face.”
Officer Martinez glanced down at the paper. His expression shifted from official duty to a heavy, knowing frown. He looked back at my father. “Mr. Miller, is this your handwriting?”
“It’s… it’s a family mix-up,” my father stammered, suddenly looking less like a patriarch and more like a caught teenager. “Jenna has always been dramatic. She likes to play the victim because she chose a nursing career instead of settling down. She’s just jealous that Kyle and Madison have a real family.”
“A real family,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash.
May you like
Before my father could launch into another tirade, my phone buzzed violently in my scrub pocket. It wasn’t a call. It was a relentless stream of notifications from the family group chat.
The bomb I had dropped in the group chat had just detonated. And everyone was online to watch the shrapnel fly.
