You Ignored My Birthday So I Erased Myself From The Family novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Three Boxes

Chloe packs her life in forty minutes while her family performs, and finds a folder in her father's lockbox with her name on it.

I did not sleep much, and at nine on Sunday morning Noah drove me home in his mother's old pickup.

"You don't have to come in," I said.

"I'm not going in. I'm carrying boxes."

"They'll be awful."

"I work a grill during the lunch rush on Saturdays," he said. "I can handle awful."

I had four flattened boxes from the diner's storeroom, a roll of tape and forty minutes.

I had set the timer on my phone.

The house looked the same as it always did.

Trimmed hedges, a wreath on the door and Dad's car washed and waxed in the driveway.

Nobody had noticed the key was gone, because I had left it on the table.

I did not have one anymore, so I rang the doorbell.

Mom opened the door in her robe with her hair already done.

She took one look at Noah standing behind me, and her face rearranged itself.

"Oh, Chloe," she said, loud enough for the street. "Oh, baby. You came home."

She grabbed me in a hug that smelled like hairspray.

Across the road, a neighbor stopped watering her planter.

"I came for my things," I said.

"Of course you did. Come in, sweetheart. Let's not do this on the porch."

She said it softly, and her fingers dug into my arm.

I went in.

Chase was in the kitchen eating cereal from a mixing bowl.

He looked at Noah and then at the boxes and grinned.

"Look who's here. Cinderella and the line cook."

"Chase," Noah said, with a nod. "Nice shirt. Did your sister iron it?"

Chase stopped chewing.

I walked upstairs before he could think of an answer.

My room was at the end of the hall.

It had a twin bed, a desk and a window that faced the neighbors' fence.

Penelope's room had a bigger window and its own bathroom.

I started with the closet.

I owned eleven shirts, two pairs of jeans, one dress and a winter coat with a broken zipper.

They fit into one box.

My books filled another.

My mother stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"This is silly," she said. "You can't just move out because we forgot a day."

"You forgot a lot of days."

"We were busy. You know how it is with Penelope's schedule."

"I know exactly how it is."

"I'll make you a cake tonight," she said. "Chocolate. The kind you like."

"I like lemon."

Mom blinked.

"Do you?"

I took a stack of notebooks off my desk and put them in the box.

"Chloe, you're being cruel."

"I'm packing."

"I'm your mother."

"I know," I said. "It's in the paperwork."

The timer on my phone said eighteen minutes left.

I carried the second box down the stairs, and Noah took it from me without a word.

Penelope's door was shut, with music behind it.

I did not knock.

The last thing I needed was in Dad's study, in the closet behind his golf bag.

The metal lockbox was gray and heavy and held every important piece of paper in our family.

I knew the combination.

It was Chase's birthday, because it was always Chase's birthday.

I had filed the tax folders there myself for three years, because Dad said I was good with details.

I turned the dial, and the lock gave.

On top lay Chase's high school diploma in a leather cover.

Under it were Penelope's skating certificates, every one in a plastic sleeve.

At the bottom, in a thin envelope, I found my own documents.

My birth certificate.

My Social Security card.

I put them in my jacket, and I felt stupid for how much my hands were shaking.

I was going to close the box.

Then I saw a manila folder wedged against the side wall, and it had a tab.

The tab said, in my father's blocky handwriting, CHLOE TRUST.

I did not have a trust.

I took it out.

The folder held one sheet.

A bank statement.

The header read Tri-County Bank, Education Trust for Chloe Carroway, Trustee: Paul Carroway.

The statement date was last month.

I read the balance at the bottom twice.

The number was very small, and I did not understand it.

A long column of dates ran above it.

There were amounts, and next to the amounts were words like "disbursement" and "per trustee."

My heart was slamming in my ears.

"Chloe."

I looked up.

Dad stood in the door of the study in his Sunday sweater.

He was not hurrying.

He never hurried.

He crossed the room in three even steps and took the folder out of my hand.

His fingers were warm and dry.

"That's not yours," he said.

"It has my name on it."

"It's family business."

"My name is on the tab, Dad."

He folded the folder in half, and he did it slowly, so I would watch him do it.

"Put the birth certificate back too," he said pleasantly. "You'll want to do this the right way."

I did not put it back.

I zipped my jacket over it and stood up.

He smiled.

It was the kind of smile you give a child who has touched a hot stove.

And he did not step out of the doorway.

← Chapter 2 · All chapters · Chapter 4 →

Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend