The basement darkness pressed down on Zara like a physical weight. She'd wedged herself into a corner where the damp stone walls met, knees pulled tight to her chest, arms locked around her legs trying to hold onto any warmth she could find. Her breathing bounced off the hard surfaces, each echo reminding her she was completely alone down here.
It had been over twenty-four hours now. Her body still ached from where her mother had hit her, and the hunger had moved past sharp pangs into this dull, constant throb that made her head feel floaty and disconnected.
She was fourteen. Just fourteen. But the last few days had aged her in ways she couldn't explain.
The cold cut right through her thin nightgown, making her shiver so hard her teeth chattered. She tried to stay still but movement felt dangerous, like it might draw attention from upstairs. In the silence, her mind kept circling back to Gad's hands on her shoulders. That sickly-sweet whiskey smell on his breath when he'd cornered her in her bedroom. Her stomach twisted at the memory, and she pressed her forehead against her knees, trying to make it all disappear.
When it first happened, she'd run to her mother. Of course she had. That's what you do, right? You tell your mom when something's wrong, when someone hurts you. She'd actually believed Ava would protect her.
Instead, her mother's face had transformed into something Zara didn't recognize. Those carefully composed features (the ones Ava maintained so perfectly for their wealthy friends and social circles) twisted with cold fury.
"You're lying." Her mother's voice had cut like glass. "Gad would never do that. You're just trying to cause trouble. Trying to ruin everything we've built."
The slap came so fast Zara didn't see it coming. Her cheek exploded with pain, and before she could even process it, Ava's fingers dug into her arm hard enough to leave bruises. She was dragged down the stairs and shoved into the basement darkness. The door slammed. The lock clicked.
That was yesterday morning. No one had checked on her since. Not even to give her water.
When pale dawn light finally crept through the small, grimy window near the ceiling, Zara couldn't stay curled up anymore. Her muscles screamed as she forced herself to stand on the freezing concrete. She had to move or she'd lose it completely.
She started pacing, trailing her fingers along dusty furniture and old boxes stacked against the walls like forgotten pieces of their family history. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold floor as she wandered through the shadows, searching for... what? Hope? Distraction? Anything?
Her hand was running along the base of the wall when her fingers caught on something different. Not rough stone or smooth wood, something else. She knelt down, squinting in the weak light at a gap between two old floorboards. Something small and rectangular was tucked inside.
Her heart started pounding as she pried it loose with her fingernails. A USB drive. Dust-covered, like it had been hidden there for years.
Footsteps overhead made her freeze.
That confident, steady pace; she knew it instantly. Her mother.
Zara shoved the USB drive into her sock, yanking the fabric up to hide it against her ankle. She stood perfectly still, trying to slow her breathing, terrified her racing heart was loud enough to give her away.
The basement door opened. Artificial light sliced down the stairs, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Zara squinted and raised her hand against the brightness as Ava descended with that practiced grace, completely out of place in this miserable setting.
She was wearing an expensive designer suit. Her dark hair was perfect. Makeup flawless. She looked ready for a boardroom, not like a mother who'd locked her daughter in a cellar.
"I hope you've had time to think about what you did," Ava said, her voice cool and detached.
No apology. No "are you okay?" No "have you eaten?" Just that statement, delivered like she was discussing a business matter.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Zara with eyes completely empty of anything maternal. Zara wanted to scream, to demand why her own mother wouldn't believe her, but something in Ava's gaze stopped her cold.
There was a calculation there. Something that terrified Zara in a way she couldn't name. She couldn't cry though she was hurt.
Her mother had chosen Gad over her. Her own daughter.
Why?