Page 72 of Step Bully

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I gaped silently, the phone still pressed to my ear, as anger rushed through me.

My mother had access to the account my father used to transfer money to me now that I’d aged out of child support, and she monitored the thing like a hawk. This wasn’t the first time she’d told me about getting extra cash from my father.

“Anyway, I wanted to let you know I’ve debited the amount, so you’ll have to adjust your spending if you were planning on wasting it on something foolish.”

“What? You had no right.”

“I had every right.” Her tone was cold. “It was his way of compensating for me having to take on the responsibility of having you all weekend.”

“No, that money is for me. It’s inmyaccount frommyfather. You don’t get child support for me anymore. All transactions are between me and Dad.”

“It’s done, Ash. The sooner you let it go, the better it’ll be for all of us.”

“But—"

“We’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”

She hung up the phone, and I shoved it into my hoodie pocket so I wouldn’t be tempted to throw it against a tree.

Why was I so surprised? It wasn’t the first time Mom had taken money out of my account without asking, and it wouldn’t be the last.

The worst part was that I never knew what she was spending it on. Did it really go to extra groceries or the added utilities of having me home? It was only four days. How much extra could I possibly cost in four days?

Anger moved through me as I got to my feet, and climbed out of my hiding spot.

Why was I always a burden?

My entire childhood, my father had ignored us so he could amass his fortune. He’d been born into nothing and had worked his way up to the position of CEO of a large hedge fund company he’d founded with a friend of his.

He was a success by any definition: rich, powerful, connected, and had a perfect family at home.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket and opened Insta.

It didn’t take me long to find the latest pictures Jenna had posted. They always ended up on my feed.

She and Dad were sitting on a blanket on some beach, each holding a brat and looking lovingly at each other in their matching white linen outfits; she and Everleigh in flowy sundresses and Dad and Brycen in matching shorts and shirts.

The caption simply said “Blessed” and had a paragraph of hashtags like #momlife #familyiseverything and #beachdaywiththefam.

A lump rose in my throat.

I didn’t have any family snaps like this. No family portraits, no photoshoot mementos.

It was as though my childhood had never happened. LikeI’dnever happened.

My fucking father couldn’t even go to the beach like a normal person and had to bring a goddamn photographer with him to perfectly capture his perfect family and perfect life.

Fuck all of them.

I exited out of Insta, shoved my phone into my pocket, and strode to the van.

The entire drive to the apartment, I was seething and trying to pay attention to the road, as I kept zoning out.

I had a class in less than an hour, but there was no way in hell I’d be able to concentrate. Thankfully, it was an easy class, a distribution requirement I’d finally gotten around to taking, and the professor put all the slides online after class so I’d be able to catch up.

“What are you doing here?”

I closed the door behind me. “I live here.”


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