Chapter 2

Dad had secretly promised Chloe long ago that he would always put her needs first.

Chloe had let that slip, intentionally or not, during a family dinner.

Even so, I had never doubted Dad's love for me.

Until I saw both sticks bearing Chloe's name. I carved my name onto a spare stick that night and put it in the box in place of one of hers.

And until I saw the look on Dad's face when his game was blown wide open.

Dad froze for a second.

Then his expression twisted into fury.

"You went through my box?!"

"How dare you!"

He clutched the wooden stick tightly in his fist, as if channeling his rage into it.

He was the one who had gaslit me for years.

He had let me act like a fool, praying desperately before every single draw:

Please, let it be me this time.

I just want a place to call my own.

Dad had always brushed it off with a smile.

Then, after pulling the inevitable result, he would console me:

"Since Chloe won, we have to respect the rules."

"Just wait for the next chance, Summer."

Now that the truth was out, he didn't offer a single word of explanation.

All I received was resentment and accusation.

A chill settled in my chest.

"I should be asking you that," I said, the emotions I had bottled up for years finally erupting. "Why wasn't my name ever in the box?"

"All these years... I actually thought I was just unlucky..."

Every word felt like a blade twisting in my heart.

Tears streamed down my face.

Dad stared at my tears and let out a heavy sigh.

He stepped closer, trying to say something.

Chloe cut in immediately, shoving herself between us.

Her eyes dripped with contempt.

"Since you found out, I'll just say it straight."

"Dad was never going to give you that down payment."

"The whole lottery thing was just a game to keep you quiet!"

My ears roared with a deafening ring.

"What did you just say?"

Dad took Chloe's hand, stepping in to speak for her.

"When your mother died, I promised her I'd look after both of you."

He sighed again.

"You were always worried I'd leave everything to Chloe."

"Chloe was younger. I kept telling myself she needed more from me. I rigged the draws so I could give her what she wanted and still tell you I was being fair."

His eyes shadowed over.

"I thought you'd get tired of asking eventually."

He'd let me hope for years because it was easier than telling me what he was doing.

Hearing him say it so casually ripped my heart to shreds.

From the very beginning, my entire life had been a punchline.

Chloe snapped the wooden stick bearing my name in half.

Then she gave me a sweet, wicked grin.

"Older sisters are supposed to give in to the younger ones. That's just how the world works."

"You really think he's going to give you the money just because he drew your name?"

Dad stood to the side, not uttering a word of denial.

"I'm not giving you the house fund, Summer," Dad said. "And I promised Chloe I'd spend Thanksgiving with her and my relatives."

"We'll do another draw some other time."

Looking at my pale, devastated face, a fleeting hint of guilt passed over his eyes.

"Summer, there's always next time."

"Don't make a scene and act like a sore loser."

Then, lowering his voice, he added, "Next time, I'll make sure it's a completely fair draw."

As if a cheap promise was all it took to keep me waiting like an idiot again.

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms, letting the sharp sting anchor me.

Then I forced a small smile and nodded at him.

What he didn't know was this:

Grandma had given me a strict order to be there for Thanksgiving dinner.

And the person walking through her door didn't have to be him.