The Moment the Billionaire Saw the Locket, My Cruel Foster Mother's World Shattered

The Switch Cuts the Air

The kitchen smelled of burnt toast and bleach, a smell Lily had come to know as the smell of fear. She knelt beside the tin mop bucket, her bare knees pressing into the cold linoleum, her small fingers tracing the edge of the tarnished silver half-heart that hung from her neck.

It was the only thing she had left of her mother. The only proof that someone, somewhere, had once loved her.

Brenda Pike stood over her, a neon tracksuit stretched tight over her broad shoulders, gold hoops glinting as she sneered. In her hand, she held a switch—a thin, whippy branch she'd snapped from the maple tree out back. She tapped it against her palm like a metronome counting down to pain.

"Go hide under the stairs," Brenda barked, her voice low and vicious. "Now, you little rat."

Lily didn't move fast enough. Brenda's foot shot out, kicking the bucket. Dirty water splashed across the floor, soaking Lily's sweater, her face, her braids. The cold shock made her gasp, but she bit her tongue to keep from crying out. Crying made it worse.

"This locket was my mom's," Lily whispered, her trembling hands covering the silver heart.

Brenda laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "That piece of junk? Your mom was trash, and so are you. Now get under the stairs before I—"

The front door swung open.

Lily looked up, her cheeks still wet with tears and soapy water, and saw the most beautiful woman she'd ever laid eyes on. A lady in a dove-grey wrap, her auburn hair twisted into a smooth knot, her face soft and kind.

Behind her stood a tall man in a grey suit, his beard salted with white, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. Two officers in dark uniforms flanked them.

Brenda's switch dropped to her side. Her snarl melted into a smile so fake it made Lily's stomach hurt.