When Lily led me out in the new coat, I caught something rare in my parents' eyes: approval.
Mom smiled, her expression unusually soft. "That color suits you, Savannah. Looks good."
Dad was already carrying dishes from the kitchen. "Food's ready. Come sit."
They ushered me to the table. I stayed silent, but deep in my chest, that treacherous spark of hope—the longing for a real home—flickered back to life.
The moment I picked up my chopsticks, Mom's hand shot out. Smack.
She struck the back of my hand with her own chopsticks. Hard.
"We have a guest," she scolded. "Wait."
Only then did I notice the empty seat beside me. Bowl and chopsticks already set out.
Before I could ask, the doorbell rang.
My brother-in-law practically sprinted to the door, ushering in a stranger.
Mid-thirties. Bloated figure. Gut straining against his shirt. Oily smile, small shifting eyes.
He grinned at me.
My skin crawled instantly. I forced a polite nod.
"This is...?"
Lily raised her voice for the whole table. "Savannah, this is Jack Pruitt. Your brother-in-law and I set this up. He's quite a catch!"
My blood ran cold.
Not a family reunion. An ambush.