Chapter 2
Libby's POV
My birth mother died when I was little. For as long as I could remember, it was just Dad—John Miller—and me, until he married Aunt Mary.
Kane Miller was my stepmother Mary's son, two years older than me. When I first met him at seven, this shy nine-year-old boy hid behind his mom, blonde hair messy, blue eyes full of curiosity.
"Hi, I'm Kane," he said quietly, then handed me his toy truck. "You can play with this."
From that day on, we were family. REAL family.
After Dad and Mary got married, we moved into this little house in the factory district. Kane never treated me like an outsider—he taught me to ride bikes, helped with homework, stood up for me when kids at school picked on me.
We used to be so happy.
But three months ago, one night destroyed everything.
The phone rang at 2 AM, piercing through sleep like an alarm.
I stumbled out of my room to find Kane already at the stairs, face white as he listened. Mary sat on the couch, hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"What? Heart attack?" Kane's voice trembled. "We'll be right there."
Dad was in trouble.
University of Michigan Hospital hallways reeked of disinfectant under harsh fluorescent lights. Kane and I sat side by side on plastic chairs, his hand gripping mine, palm sweaty.
"What did the doctor say?" I whispered, voice breaking.
Kane turned to me, those blue eyes filled with fear and determination I'd never seen before.
"Dad's gonna be fine. I'll protect you." His arm wrapped around my shoulders, voice shaking but steady. "Don't be scared. You still have me. We'll never be separated."
In that moment, I felt like as long as Kane was there, my world wouldn't collapse.
But two hours later, the doctor came out shaking his head.
That was the last time he protected me.
St. Mark's Church echoed with somber hymns, autumn sky thick with clouds, heavy as all our hearts.
Kane and I sat in the front row with Mary between us. She looked so weak, face ghostly pale, lips colorless. I noticed dark bruises on her wrists—deep, purple marks.
What are those? Did she fall?
"Dearly beloved, we gather here today to bid farewell to our brother, John Miller..."
The pastor's voice seemed to come from far away. I stared at the casket, still unable to believe Dad was really gone.
Suddenly, Mary went limp, collapsing in her chair.
"Mom!" Kane immediately caught her, face panicked. "Mom, what's wrong?"
My heart hammered. "Mary!" I leaned over, touching her forehead. "She's burning up... does she have a fever?"
Her lips were even whiter, like she might faint completely. People crowded around with water and fans.
"Should we call an ambulance?" I asked Kane frantically, voice shaking. First losing Dad, now Mary like this—I didn't know how much more I could take.
I heard Dad's coworkers murmuring behind us:
"That factory environment, lots of old-timers got sick."
"Chemical contamination's bad. John wasn't the first..."
"Heard a dozen guys got weird illnesses. Company's trying to cover it up."
So Dad's death was connected to the factory. A terrible feeling crept into my chest.
I turned to Kane, but he was completely focused on caring for Mary, never glancing my way again.
A week later, I went to Dad's study looking for a novel he'd bought me.
Sunset slanted through windows, casting long shadows across the desk. Papers scattered everywhere—I picked up the top document, seeing "Libby College Fund" written across it.
Dad had opened that account when I turned ten, depositing money every month for my education.
But now I saw page after page of withdrawal records:
August 15: $5,000
August 20: $8,000
September 3: $10,000
September 18: $12,000
One after another, huge withdrawals, nearly emptying the account.
I couldn't understand why Dad would drain my college fund.
"What are you looking at?"
Kane's voice suddenly cut through behind me. I spun around to find him in the doorway, eyes complex and angry—like he was looking at a thief.
"Nothing... just..." I stammered. "I was looking for a book, accidentally saw this document."
"Don't go through Dad's stuff anymore." He strode over, snatching the papers from my hands. "This is NONE of your business."
He looked so furious, staring at me with pure hatred.
That was the first time I saw hate in Kane's eyes.
Two days later, we sat in lawyer Robert Chen's office.
The office was formal—dark wood desk, leather chairs, walls covered with certificates and legal texts. The oppressive atmosphere made it hard to breathe.
Chen was a forty-something Asian man with glasses, speaking carefully.
"First, my condolences for your loss." He cleared his throat. "Regarding John's situation, we have several matters to discuss."
Kane sat beside me, but I could feel him tense as steel.
"How is Mary's health?" Chen asked.
My heart immediately clenched. Since fainting at the funeral, Mary kept saying she felt unwell, but I hadn't known it was serious enough to involve lawyers.
"My father's death hit her hard... she needs hospitalization." Kane's voice was stiff. "Doctors say her condition is complicated."
Hospitalization?
I nearly jumped from my chair. "What? How serious?" I turned to Kane desperately. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Which hospital is she at?"
Kane glanced at me, something flickering in his eyes before he looked away. "Doctors are still running tests. Nothing definite yet."
My hands started shaking. Losing Dad was already unbearable—if something happened to Mary too... I couldn't even imagine.
Chen nodded, then opened a file folder.
"Regarding the factory situation, there's good news. Ford Motor Company is willing to accept responsibility, acknowledging that chemical contamination did affect workers and their families' health."
Kane immediately sat straighter.
"How much are they offering?"
"The projected settlement is $500,000."
FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND!
I nearly fell off my chair. Half a million dollars! More than our family made in two years!
But when I turned to Kane, my blood ran cold.
He was staring at me with undisguised anger and hatred. That look made me feel like he wasn't seeing family—he was seeing an ENEMY.
"When do we get the money?" Kane's voice was ice-cold.
"About three months for legal processing," Chen answered.
Kane nodded, but his gaze never left me.
Why? Why do I feel like Kane's looking at me so strangely?
I remembered those withdrawal records, Mary's bruised wrists, her collapse at the funeral.
Did... did Dad use my college fund for something else?
But so what? It was all Dad's money anyway. He could use it however he wanted. I never blamed him for that.
So why was Kane so angry? Why was he looking at me with such HATRED?
Walking out of the law office, Kane strode ahead, never looking back.
From that day on, I was no longer his sister.
From that day on, I became his enemy.
On that cloudy afternoon, I didn't just lose my father.
I lost my last protector.
I lost Kane.
I lost my home.