From now on, I'm done wasting my time on any of them.

The next day, I wrapped up all the paperwork at the office. On my way home, I found this massive bulldozer parked right in front of the house.

It was revving up like it was about to flatten Bucky's little doghouse! I bolt forward to stop it, but I tripped over some rocks and hit the ground hard.

My arm burned with pain; my skin was scraped raw and mixed with dirt, blood streaking down like some pathetic war paint.

I remember a time when just a scratch from when I bumped into a random stranger would send Violet and Hazel into a frenzy, rushing me to the hospital for a full-body scan like I'd shattered every bone.

Now? They just stood in the doorway with their blank faces staring at me.

I forced myself up, dragging my beaten body to stand between the bulldozer and what was left of Bucky's home.

That's when Callum looked at Bucky's little house, holding his nose and waving his hand like he was sniffing out garbage.

"Anything from the dead belongs in the trash—especially if it's from a dead dog. Or don't you think that's a problem?"

His smirk—that same damn look he had over a decade ago. Back then, when Dad died, I was so helpless I could only sleep by clutching his photo every night.

But Callum saw his chance. While I wasn't looking, that asshole threw my dad's only photo into the septic tank and even had the nerve to laugh like a lunatic standing in front of me!

"Miss your dad? Go fish his pic out! Dead folks' stuff are cursed. Your poor dad? Better off down there!"

I ran crying to Mom for help, hoping for some sympathy. But instead—she tore into me for making a fuss and locked me up in a dark room for three days! That's how I got claustrophobic.

When I snapped back to reality, I felt rage pounding through me as memories of old and new hatred flooded over me. Just as I raised my hand to shove Callum away, he stumbled and landed flat on the ground.

Violet and Hazel rushed over instantly, practically tripping over each other to lift him up, inspecting his arms and ankles with a look of concern written all over their faces.

The second she saw the tiny scratch on his hand, Hazel's eyes went red with vengeance.

Never one to hold back, she stormed over and kicked me square to the chest, sending me to the ground. She glared down at me with a look that could cut glass.

"Callum's your brother! How could you be this mean?! He was only trying to distract you from grieving over that damn dog, and you dare to raise a hand against him?"

"It's just a dog, Henderson! You're not even worth one of Callum's fingers! Now, go apologize to him, or I'll make sure you regret it!"

Violet just held Callum, calm as ever, not bothering to stop Hazel. But she stared at me with disappointment.

"Look, it's just a doghouse, Henderson. So what if it's gone? Hell, if Callum wanted, we'd even tear this whole villa down and build something better!"

Hearing that stung. Back when she built that little doghouse for Bucky, she joked that they'd keep it around for all of Bucky's future pups to have a place.

And a few years later, when Grandma passed away and Mom dragged me to come back, Violet and Hazel bought this villa to convince me to stay. They said it'd be proof of our friendship—that it'd stay the same forever.

But their idea of forever didn't last long.

I tried to step past them just to grab Bucky's old toys. But Hazel blocked me, stepping right in my way.

"Apologize to Callum first, or you're not getting a damn thing in there!"

I'd lost Grandma, lost Bucky, and now the one thing left—just a few of his toys.

Suddenly, Hazel slammed her foot into the back of my knee, forcing me to kneel. Before I knew it, my knees hit the ground hard.

My manipulative stepbrother flashed me a smug grin for a moment, but as soon as he turned around, that damn innocent expression was back on his face.

"Violet, it's so noisy and messy out here. Can we go inside now?"

Violet's cold expression softened into this way-too-sweet look.

"Alright, does your hand still hurt? Wanna go to the hospital? Need to get it checked?"

Hazel caught up, chiming in. "Callum, I heard you like roses. Once we clear this patch of land, I'll fill it up with a rose garden for you. Sound good?"

There they were, doting on Callum like he was the center of their world. He glanced at me, raised a brow, and mouthed something.

"Loser."

Violet and Hazel? They completely forgot I'm allergic to pollen allergy.

For over 10 years, every time flowers were about to bloom, they'd go around and clear every single flowering plant in my space.

I just shut my eyes now and dragged myself over to Bucky's room. The place was a mess. Took forever, but I finally found his favorite pink ball.

By then, it was dark. I went to the front door, pressed my fingerprint—and nothing happened. That's when it hit me: someone had erased my access. Even the passcode was changed.

So, I called Violet. No answer. Called Hazel. Same deal.

Thought about crashing at a hotel, but my phone was dying, and the closest one was miles away.

Then, because fate's got a sense of humor, the rain started. First, a drizzle. Then it just poured down.

My clothes got soaked, and the cuts on my arm stung like hell. I curled up there, shivering.

Finally, right as dawn started creeping in, the front door cracked open. Violet tiptoed out.

Her eyes landed on me—curled up in a ball—and for a second, I thought I saw pity. But just as fast, her face twisted with disgust.

"Well, Henderson, look at you. Out all night?"

"What's this, some sad attempt to get our attention? Grow up, would you?"

My head felt heavy as I stared at her, barely recognizing her.

"I didn't… Someone deleted my fingerprint and changed the code. I tried calling. No one answered. I wasn't trying to stay out."

Violet rubbed her forehead, looking a little guilty.

"Callum was worried about the workers, so he changed the code."

"Go on, get inside."

I nodded, forced myself up, numb and aching, and headed in.

But just as I was almost in, she called out, "Henderson, we didn't mean it!"

She paused, then added, "But be quiet. Callum was up late. Don't wake him."

Something twisted inside me, but I just nodded.

Then she stopped me again, her face a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Henderson, aren't you gonna make a fuss? That's not like you…"

I forced a bitter smile and looked down. Only people who know they are cared for get to act entitled, knowing someone will take it. That used to be me—taking up space, claiming my spot.

But now, who was I even fighting for?

Ignoring the ache in my bones, I dragged myself to bed and let sleep take me.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, loud music and voices drifted in.

The next thing I knew, Callum was barging into my room and yanking my blanket off.

"Hey, dumbass! Get up! We're celebrating my friendship with Violet and Hazel for 20 days!"

20 days, huh? Guess 20 days were long enough to wipe out our 20 years...

My head was pounding, so I just pulled my hand back and knocked out cold.

No clue how long I was out when suddenly I heard this loud shout. I jerked awake, heart racing, and Callum was standing over my computer, looking at me with this fake apology crap.

"Hey, Violet said their old photos were saved here. She gave me the password and told me to come and check them myself."

Look, me and the Harland sisters? No secrets, not one. We've shared the same password for everything since we were kids, even for bank accounts.

But now? They just handed it to my stepbrother, letting him dig around in my stuff.

"But, uh… there's a problem. I think the computer's got a virus, like, everything's gone! I was freaking out and trying to restart it, but I... I accidentally spilled water all over it."

He kept saying sorry, but the look in his eyes? Total smugness, and maybe even a little daring.

That computer had years of my research, all my data—stuff I've put blood, sweat, and tears into—and just like that, it hit me, and my sleepiness was gone.

I jumped up, pushed Callum aside, and went straight for the computer to see if there was anything I could save.

But the whole thing looked like it had been dunked in water, sparks still popping out of the circuit board. The whole computer? Done. Fried.

"Who the hell said you could touch my computer?"

Callum stumbled back, hitting the edge of the desk, rubbing his head, and putting on this hurt, offended look like I'd actually done something to him.

"Bro, I didn't mean to! I'm really sorry. Just... Just hit me, punish me, whatever you want!"

Right then, the door swung open, and the Harland sisters were standing in the doorway.

"We did!"

Violet and Hazel rushed over, and in seconds, they were by his side, checking him over if he had injuries.

"Bro, I just wanted to see some of Violet and Hazel's old photos…"

"Are you seriously still mad about stuff that happened back when we were kids? I was just a stupid kid back then—I've grown up. Can't you let it go?"

Violet's face darkened, and her lips pressed tight.

"Henderson, can't you stop hanging on to old crap?"

"Back then, Callum was just a kid. Kids don't mean harm, but you're the one stuck on it, holding a grudge all these years!"

"Doesn't matter—Callum's your brother. Act like it. You look ridiculous!"

And these were the same people who used to swear they'd have my back if I ever came face to face with Callum and his dad. Now? They're on his side, against me.

They knew my deepest scars, yet they didn't hesitate to tear me open right where it hurts most.

"Violet, I'm feeling a bit dizzy…" Callum leaned on Violet's shoulder.

Violet's all concerned, holding him up. "Let's get you to the hospital now!"

And with that, she helped him out the door, practically dragging him.

The whole room was trashed, and Hazel stared at me, frowning, gripping my arm hard.

"Hey, look, we've given you over 20 years of love and loyalty. Why can't you let us care a bit about Callum, too?"

"Are you that jealous? Always wanting to take what's his?"

Take?

Callum's dad stole my mom's love from my dad, then Callum stole my mother's love from me, and now he's snatched away the Harland sisters' affection.

I've never had anything—what the hell is there for me to take?