Chapter 3: The Secret Olivia Didn’t Know
The next morning, the house felt like a stranger’s home.
Nobody slammed doors.
Nobody argued.
Nobody even looked at each other.
The silence was worse.
I sat at the kitchen table while Dad spoke with his attorney in the office.
Monica had locked herself upstairs.
Olivia sat across from me, staring at her untouched breakfast.
For the first time in years, she looked afraid.
Not guilty.
Afraid.
“You hate me now,” she whispered.
I looked up.
“I don’t know what I feel.””
“That’s worse.””
I didn’t answer.
Because the truth was complicated.
Olivia had hurt me.
She had destroyed something I worked for.
She had lied.
But she was also seventeen.
A girl who had been taught that love meant winning.
A girl who had spent years competing for attention.
That didn’t excuse what she did.
But it explained why everything was so broken.
“You knew about the house?”” I asked.
Her eyes lifted.
“What?””
“The documents.””
She shook her head.
“No.””
I believed her.
Not because I trusted her.
Because her reaction was too genuine.
“She never told you?””
Olivia looked down.
“Mom tells me what she thinks I need to know.””
I almost smiled.
“That sounds familiar.””
She looked hurt.
“Jasmine…”
“No.””
I pushed my chair back.
“I need answers.””
Before she could respond, Dad walked in.
He looked exhausted.
But determined.
“Jasmine.””
I stood.
“What did he say?””
Dad held a folder.
“The documents are fake.””
I exhaled.
“I knew it.””
“But that’s not the only problem.””
He placed the folder down.
“The transfer paperwork was prepared months ago.””
“Months?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Dad looked at Olivia.
Then at me.
“Because someone was planning this.””
My skin went cold.
“So Monica planned to kick me out?””
He shook his head.
“I don’t think the suitcase was the beginning.””
“What do you mean?””
“I think it was the final step.””
The room went quiet.
Dad explained that the fake transfer needed several pieces of information.
His tax records.
Property details.
Bank information.
Private identification numbers.
Information only someone close to him could access.
Someone inside the house.
I looked upstairs.
“Monica.””
Dad didn’t answer.
Which meant yes.
Later that afternoon, Dad and I went through my room.
The place where everything started.
My shelves.
My desk.
My computer.
He found something I hadn’t noticed.
A small camera.
Hidden inside the smoke detector.
I stared at it.
“No.””
Dad immediately removed it.
“Jasmine…”
“Someone was watching me?””
He looked angry.
Not at me.
At himself.
“How long?””
The camera was old.
Months old.
Then I remembered.
The nights Olivia came into my room.
The conversations.
The arguments.
Everything.
“They recorded us.””
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“We need to find out why.””
That night, Olivia knocked on my door.
The first time she had done that in years.
“Can I come in?””
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
She sat on the edge of my bed.
“I found something.””
She handed me an envelope.
“What is this?””
“I found it in Mom’s closet.””
Inside was a printed email.
I read the first line.
My hands went cold.
It was from a lawyer.
A lawyer who had worked with my father.
The email said:
“Regarding the trust arrangement left by Claire Reed…”
My mother’s name.
I kept reading.
Then stopped.
“What?””
Olivia looked nervous.
“There’s more.””
I read the next paragraph.
The house wasn’t just my father’s.
Not completely.
My mother had protected my future.
The house had been placed under a legal agreement.
And I was a beneficiary.
Dad walked in at that exact moment.
“What did you find?””
I handed him the paper.
He read it.
Then sat down.
“My God.””
“What?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Your mother knew something like this could happen.””
“What does that mean?””
Dad opened the folder.
Inside was another document.
A document he had never seen.
My mother’s handwriting was on it.
A note.
For Jasmine.
My hands trembled as I unfolded it.
The first line made my heart stop.
“My sweet girl, if you are reading this, someone has tried to take away what belongs to you.””
I looked at Dad.
He looked just as shocked.
Because my mother had written those words years ago.
Before Monica.
Before Olivia.
Before anyone knew what would happen.
I kept reading.
And then I saw the final sentence.
The sentence that changed everything.
“Trust your father, but don’t trust the person who convinces him he needs protection from his own daughter.””
I slowly lowered the paper.
Because suddenly, I knew.
My mother wasn’t warning me about losing the house.
She was warning me about losing my father.
Then Dad’s phone rang.
He answered.
A few seconds later, his face turned pale.
“What happened?”” I asked.
He looked at the screen.
“It’s Monica.””
“What did she say?””
He didn’t answer.
Because the message was already open.
One sentence.
May you like
One threat.
“If Jasmine stays, you’ll lose everything.””
