T R I C I A
I parked the car and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I had to act normal. I had to pretend like nothing was wrong.
I walked into the house, the briefcase clutched tightly in my hand. My mother was in the living room, a glass of blood wine in her hand. She looked up as I entered, her eyes narrowing.
"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice cold.
"Out," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I needed some air."
"Don't lie to me, Tricia," she said, taking a sip of her blood wine. "I know you were in my room. I know you took my things."
My blood ran cold. How did she know? I was so careful. I didn't leave any evidence.
"What are you talking about?" I said, my voice trembling slightly.
"My safe," she said, her eyes locked on mine.
I clenched my jaw
