Even shoes were stolen there, so I tied my sneaker laces around my wrists before crawling into bed.

At 5:00 a.m., we were shaken awake.

After cleaning duties, I changed into my white clinical uniform in a public restroom near the station.

That was where Kelly, the diligent and outstanding nursing student, existed.

One rainy day, shaking with a high fever in the transitional housing facility, I scrolled through social media on my phone.

A photo posted by Ashley appeared.

In a spacious, modern living room, the whole family stood smiling, glasses raised, gathered around a glowing fireplace. The caption read, “Our first party in our new home. Grateful for the best family ever.”

Through the window behind them, I could see the beautiful night view of the Riverside District.

Why was I shivering in a moldy bed while they warmed themselves by a fireplace?

I cried until I had no tears left, burning with frustration and injustice.

And then the next morning, as I staggered out of the transitional housing facility, my grandfather Frank’s car was waiting right in front of me.

When I finished telling him everything, the feared Iron Man, Frank, covered his face with both hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

“I’m sorry. I was a fool. I trusted your parents too much.”

He wiped his tears and looked at me with eyes full of resolve.

“Kelly, listen carefully. That house Ashley is living in, the one in Riverside, I bought it with my own money and registered it in your name. It is your house.”

“What?”

“The deed and the keys were entrusted to your parents through my lawyer. I told them it was a surprise for you. They stole it, deceived you, and even drove you out.”

A cold chill ran down my spine.

That house, the one Ashley had bragged about as being worthy of them, was mine.

“That can’t be true.”

“It is, and I’ll prove it.”

My grandfather placed me in a luxury hotel suite and made sure I ate properly.

While I rested, he called my mother, Grace.

“Dad, how’s the business in South America?” Her syrupy voice came through the speaker.

“Going well. By the way, how is Kelly doing? I haven’t been able to reach her.”

“Oh, she’s doing great. She’s enjoying living on her own in an apartment near her school. She said she wants to focus on her studies, so she asked us not to contact her too much.”

A lie.

They didn’t even know where I was.

“I see. Actually, it looks like I’ll be able to come home this Christmas. I was hoping we could all gather as a family.”

“Really? That’s wonderful. Then you must come to the new house.”

“Oh, a new house. That sounds delightful. Kelly will be there, too, I assume.”

“Of course. Yes. I’ll invite her.”

Another lie.

After ending the call, my grandfather spoke coldly.

“You heard that, Kelly. They wouldn’t care even if you were dead, as long as their lies weren’t exposed.”

He stood and gazed out the window.

“I’ve already contacted my lawyers. Property records, transfer histories. Everything will be examined. And then Christmas.”

He turned back to me and smiled gently.

“Until then, rest here. And on Christmas, you’ll wear the finest dress and return with me to your house.”

On Christmas Eve night, I wore a deep crimson velvet dress my grandfather had chosen for me.

“You’re beautiful, Kelly. This is who you were always meant to be.”

We stepped into the waiting limousine, and then we headed toward the Riverside District.

Soon, the car stopped in front of a grand estate with an imposing gate.

There it was, the house I had dreamed of. A beautiful brick exterior, but hanging on the front door was a tasteless wreath that read, “Welcome to the Smith Family.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

My grandfather rang the doorbell.

From inside came my mother’s cheerful voice.

“Coming. It must be the pizza delivery.”

The door opened.

“Merry Chris—”

The smile that had been spread across my mother’s face froze instantly.

Standing in front of her were the father who was supposedly in South America and the daughter who was supposed to be missing.

“Father and Kelly. This can’t be. Why are you here?”

“We were invited,” my grandfather said coldly. “This is a party at your new house, isn’t it?”

“Get in.”

He brushed past my mother and strode confidently into the entry hall.

When we entered the living room, the scene before us was a full-blown feast.

The table was covered with more food than anyone could possibly finish. On the sofa, Ashley was spreading out a brand-new designer handbag while Chris puffed leisurely on a cigar.

My father, David, was in high spirits, carving the turkey.

“Hey, Grace. Who’s at the door? Don’t tell me the cake’s already—”

He looked up, knife still in hand, and froze.

The air in the room turned vacuum silent in an instant.

“Well, David, Ashley, Chris, you seem to be enjoying yourselves in my granddaughter’s house.”

The weight of those words alone seemed to drop the temperature below freezing.

“Grandpa, you said you weren’t coming back until next week.”

“Plans change.”

My grandfather pointed his cane toward the wedding photo of Ashley and Chris hanging on the wall.

“Explain this to me. Why are you living in the house I gave to Kelly? And why was Kelly forced to sleep in transitional housing for homeless students?”

“Homeless?” My father rasped, staring at me in my dress. “What are you talking about? Kelly was living in an apartment.”

“Silence.”

My grandfather’s shout cracked like thunder.

“I’m not here for excuses. We are settling everything here and now. The police and the lawyers are already on their way. This is not a family meeting. This is a trial.”