Chapter 3
Emma's POV
Three weeks into my "homecoming," I'd settled into a comfortable routine. Small room, early mornings, avoiding family drama.
I was heading downstairs for water when Yvette's theatrical shriek shattered the afternoon quiet.
"My necklace! It's gone!"
I paused at the top of the stairs, watching the performance unfold below.
Yvette stood in the center of the marble foyer, tears streaming down her face like she'd just discovered a dead body. Catherine and James hovered around her, their faces painted with concern.
'Here we fucking go.'
"Honey, what's wrong?" Catherine's voice pitched high with worry.
"My Tiffany necklace! The one Grandma Rose left me!" Yvette's sobs echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "It was in my jewelry box this morning, and now it's gone!"
I walked down the stairs slowly, each step deliberate.
The three of them turned toward me like vultures spotting fresh carrion.
"Emma was in my room earlier," Yvette said, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear. "She said she needed to borrow something..."
"I haven't been in your room," I said simply, reaching the bottom of the stairs.
Yvette's eyes widened with perfect victim-like innocence. "But I saw you coming out of there around noon..."
"You saw wrong."
James stepped forward, his jaw tight. "Emma, this is serious. That necklace has been in our family for three generations."
The familiar weight of accusation settled over the room. In my previous life, this exact scene had played out with an antique watch. I'd cried, begged, pleaded my innocence until my voice was raw.
Not anymore.
"I understand it's valuable," I said calmly. "Have you checked everywhere?"
By six PM, we'd assembled in the living room like some twisted family tribunal.
I stood in the center while the Morrison family formed a semicircle around me, the firelight casting dramatic shadows across their faces.
"Emma." James's voice carried the weight of disappointed authority. "This family has given you everything. Food, shelter, education. Why would you do this?"
"I didn't take anything."
Catherine shook her head, her expression perfectly crafted maternal anguish. "That necklace doesn't just disappear! Yvette wouldn't lie about something like this!"
Yvette dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Maybe Emma just really liked it? I mean, I wouldn't blame her. It's so beautiful..." Her voice trailed off with practiced uncertainty. "I just want it back. That's all."
The déjà vu hit me like a freight train.
Fifteen years old, locked in the basement. Dark, cold, the single bulb casting sickly yellow light on concrete walls. I'd been down there for six hours, no food, no water, just endless tears and denials that no one believed.
"Tyler, please!" My voice had been hoarse from crying. "I didn't take Dad's watch! You have to believe me!"
My brother's footsteps on the basement stairs had filled me with desperate hope. Finally, someone who would listen.
Instead, Tyler's hand had connected with my cheek so hard my ears rang.
"Still fucking lying?" His voice had been cold, disgusted. "You think coming back to this family gives you the right to steal from us?"
"Tyler, I swear—"
Another slap, harder this time.
"Remember your place," he'd snarled. "You're here on charity. Don't you ever forget that."
The memory dissolved as James cleared his throat. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
I looked at each of their faces - James's stern disappointment, Catherine's theatrical concern, Yvette's perfectly performed heartbreak.
Then I smiled.
"I think we should all go look in Yvette's room together. Maybe the necklace just fell somewhere."
Yvette's face went pale. "Oh, no, that's not necessary. I already looked everywhere—"
"I insist," I said pleasantly. "Four sets of eyes are better than one."
Upstairs in Yvette's pristine bedroom, I made a show of checking obvious places - the jewelry box, the dresser, the nightstand. Catherine and James searched half-heartedly while Yvette stood frozen by the door.
"Nothing here," James announced after a few minutes.
"Wait." I knelt beside the bed, reaching underneath. "What about down here?"
My fingers found the pile of clothes Yvette had worn yesterday - a designer dress carelessly tossed aside. In the pocket, exactly where I'd put it twelve hours ago, the Tiffany necklace gleamed against my palm.
"Found it."
The silence was deafening.
Yvette's mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. "I... I don't understand. How did it get there?"
"You tell me," I said, standing and holding the necklace up to catch the light. "It was in your pocket."
"I must have... I mean, maybe I forgot..." Yvette's voice cracked, her perfect composure finally fracturing.
James and Catherine exchanged glances, and I watched the wheels turning. Their adopted daughter had just been caught in a lie, but admitting that meant acknowledging they'd falsely accused their real daughter.
"Yvette was probably just stressed," Catherine said quickly. "With all her AP classes and college applications..."
"These things happen," James added, his tone overly casual. "Easy mistake to make."
I looked at them - really looked - and felt the last traces of family loyalty die in my chest.
"Right," I said softly. "Just stress."
"I think it's best if I move out."
The words dropped into the living room like a bomb.
Catherine blinked rapidly. "Move out? Sweetheart, that's not necessary—"
"It is," I interrupted. "My presence clearly makes everyone uncomfortable. Yvette forgot where she put her necklace because she was nervous about me being here."
I turned to look directly at Yvette, who was still pale and shaky from being caught. "I don't want my sister to feel anxious in her own home."
"Emma, you don't have to leave," James said, but his relief was obvious. "We can work this out."
"I want to." I stood up, straightening my shoulders. "I think I should learn to be independent anyway."
Yvette finally found her voice. "But Emma, you just got home! Don't leave because of one little misunderstanding..."
Her performance was weaker now, the mask slipping. She knew I'd outmaneuvered her, but she couldn't figure out how.
"It's not about the necklace," I said gently. "It's about giving everyone space to adjust."
Catherine and James exchanged another look - this one pure relief disguised as parental concern.
"If that's what you really want," Catherine said carefully, "we'll support your decision."
"We'll help you find a nice place," James added. "Close by, of course."
'Of course. Close enough to keep tabs on me, far enough to keep me from disrupting their perfect family dynamic.'
"That's very generous," I said. "I'll start packing tonight."
Later, alone in my small room, I could hear hushed voices downstairs. Yvette's tearful apologies, Catherine and James reassuring her that everything was fine, that Emma was just going through a difficult adjustment period.
I smiled, closing the laptop.
In my previous life, I'd spent four years begging for scraps of affection from people who saw me as an inconvenience.
This time, I was walking away on my own terms.
And I was just getting started.