“You need to pack up your things and go, Vanessa,” Sarah said, her voice sharp and firm.

“You brought cheap fake presents to a twelve-year-old girl’s birthday and lied to every child in this house.”

Vanessa lifted the coffee mug, eyed a faint brown stain by the handle, and put it back down without taking a sip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Vanessa said.

Her voice lost every trace of its soft, sweet warmth and went completely hard and flat.

“My name’s on the deed to this property.”