Sometimes rumors told the truth and sometimes they didn't, and they were almost always hard to get rid of.

Shanya would know because she had a front row seat to that testament.

There were so many reasons to be mad tonight. The least of it being her boyfriend, Gabe, dumping her for her "best friend" because of the rumors going around about her mother. Gabe didn't actually tell her he was breaking up with her. Not even over text as most pussies do these days. He simply stopped talking to her.

In truth, Shanya didn't blame him. If she were him, she wouldn't be talking to her either. Besides, she hadn't particularly been the world's best girlfriend. She'd denied him quite a lot. Attention, for one. And as for sex, she'd preferred to trick him into believing she would one day give up her body to him. And the poor fool did believe. For seven whole months.

Yeah, Gabriel wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Nala on the other hand was quite the sharp cookie, and her betrayal hurt Shanya more than she was willing to admit. With Gabe, it had only really been about image. About furthering their social standing both in school and outside of school—the daughter of a great architect and the son of renowned lawyers.

Nala had been their buffer, a kind of seasoned sidekick. Little miss helpful, little miss #TeamShabe—and maybe not today's version of what a friend should be but close (if one was delusional enough to call sycophancy a friendship trait).

But it had been a mask, like so many others she'd missed. And the sharp knife that pierced her back had been unfriendly and scalding hot. It made her wonder how long they had been laughing at her behind her back, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Using her... like she'd been using them.

She'd been naïve to think they kissed the ground she walked on when they were really just waiting for a window—a golden opportunity to be free of her. No—discard her. Worse, she probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed. It wasn't every day you learnt that your mother, a renowned relationship expert, was having an affair with your principal while married to your dad, and the scandal might very well cost your family a lot of money.

Yes. There were so many reasons to be mad tonight, Shanya mused as the burning embers of the events of the past eight weeks simmered down at the back of her mind. But she was determined to get her life back. No matter the cost.

Which brought her to this very moment, right now.

"Excuse me?" Shanya rumbled, shooting daggers at her brother's very handsome features as he looked at her with a calmness that made her want to bash his teeth in. He was completely unfazed by her frustration. Scratch that—always. He was always unfazed. Even in the most volcanic situations. Many times, she'd used the threat of his wrath to scare off her boyfriends who'd come over to cup a feel. They all referred to him as "The robot."

A fair analysis.

Sitting on a couch with blue khakis and a form-fitting dull shirt, Chicago brought his clasped hands forward and held her gaze steadily.

"You heard me."

Oh, she had heard him alright. And if she weren't so mad, she might have believed he wasn't serious.

"That money is mine. You have no right."

"The money isn't yours, Shanya. Not until you're twenty-one."

He had that serious look on his face he always got when he was trying to prove a point.

"Daddy wanted me to have that money." Her voice grew soft when she mentioned her father. She didn't care if she sounded materialistic—she could not stay in this house a minute longer, watching her mother and her lover a.k.a. her ex principal parade around the house like they owned it. Her dad wasn't even rotting in his grave yet and her mother couldn't even wait three months before shacking up with her lover. How could she do that? How could she bring the same man she had an affair with to play house? How could she throw half their wealth away for a man? She'd practically lost a tenth of her clientele since the affair came out.

It was the world's way of telling her mother "you can't preach what you don't practice."

So Shanya would take her money before her mother made any more mistakes and squandered it all.

She let her eyes wander along the long corridor, the floor made with a blend of deep homely browns and thick walls which were the greens of summer gardens meeting a bold white baseboard. Theirs was a beautiful home made with love, that was for sure. It was the kind of house that seemed especially extravagant on the outside but was a complete, homely delight on the inside. Their dad had really loved this house. He'd designed it. He'd always told her that next to her, this was his best creation. It was one of the reasons she'd stayed longer—to feel him here, his soothing, overly reassuring presence.

But she was losing that feeling every day. The house didn't feel the same anymore. Nor did it smell the same. No, this house felt like a stranger's house, poisoned by the intruder her mother called a boyfriend. She couldn't possibly stay here another two years.

Her brother was nodding, still sitting upright. "I know that you cared about Dad very much—"

"You clearly don't because we wouldn't even be having this conversation if that were tr—"

"But this isn't about him."

"What the hell do you mean this isn't about him? Of course this is about—"

"—this is about you and your future."

"What about my future?"

"You finished school two months ago—"

"Goddammit, not this again."

"—and you're making no plans for your life."

She gritted her teeth so hard she thought they would shatter. It wasn't his words so much as his eyes that were pissing her off. He was looking at her as though she were a child. One that had to be told what to do—that had no sense of direction.

"How can I move forward when the whole world thinks I got great grades because my mom screwed the Principal?"

"Watch your tongue!" Chicago roared, springing up from his seat. The mere manner in which her brother was holding himself, trying not to rip her apart, told her she had pressed several buttons. The 'never-slander-Mom-or-you'll-get-it' button. Why he was always so protective of their mother was beyond her.

But Chicago rarely lost his temper. When he did, it meant shit was going to go sideways very fast.

She willed herself to stay calm. Raging and running her mouth wouldn't solve anything or give her what she wanted. It was certainly no way to get through to Chicago. He was all logic and reason and that was what she needed to use against him. If she didn't have him in her corner, she could kiss her money goodbye.

"Look, Chi," Shanya tried again, letting her arm fall to her side as she dipped the other into the candy jar on the grand, honeyed oval table to her immediate right. Candies never failed to calm her.

After throwing the tablet-shaped orange candy into her mouth, she walked towards her brother who had already sat back down on her dad's favorite armchair. Stooping down before him, her face a mask of humility and understanding, her hands resting on his knees, she said, "I know you're worried I'll run off and die, but I'm of age. I can take care of my—"

"Nineteen is not of age."

"The state of Virginia considers a seventeen year-old an adult, as you well know. Hell, at sixteen you can petition for emancipation."

"Emanci—" Chicago swore, raising his head skywards. "Have you gone completely insane?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't say I was going to emancipate myself."

"You're not not saying it, either."

"If you would just listen—"

"What do you know about anything?"

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

"I know I don't want to live a life where my very intelligence is questioned because of actions that were not of my doing. I know I don't want this scandal following me around like a shadow, dictating my life. I want people to judge me by my own actions. Not by the actions of people I'm related to. Please, you must understand."

Chicago just gave her a cool level-headed gaze as if he were watching clothes dry. She gritted her teeth and in a stronger, more confident voice, added, "You can't force me to stay here, Chi."

His eyes grew slightly tender. "That's not what I'm trying to do, kid. I'm trying to save you from yourself. Since Dad died, you've been impulsive, staying out late with that infantile Gary and making stupid decisions like the one you're making right now. You're not yourself."

And how would he know who that is? Shanya mused. He hadn't been a part of her life for years! He didn't know her well enough to say anything about her.

"Is that what this is about? You think I'm losing my head to Gary?"

Gary was their very notorious neighbor, popular among the girls and even popular in the weed family. But hey, as long as she could be anywhere but this house for a long period of time, she didn't care if he dabbled in witchcraft.

"Again, you're missing the point."

Highly unlikely. He wanted her to stay in this house. For two whole years. And maybe if it were any other day she wouldn't be bothered so much. But this wasn't any other day. No, this day had changed for the worst when she heard them. Actually heard them going at it in their room. Her mom and her disgraced principal. Obviously, she knew they'd been boning, but hearing it was an entirely different kind of trauma. She'd never been so sick in her life. Her thoughts had immediately travelled to her dad—her easy going, loving dad who had married a woman who didn't love him.

The mere thought of the memory made her want to gag. No, she had to leave. And fast.

"I don't need to be here any longer than I have to," Shanya asserted, blinking away the scarred memory from her mind. "So just give me the money and let me go. I'm sure mum wouldn't mind. In fact, she'd be happier for it."

"Is that so?"

Shanya darted her eyes towards their white staircase to see her mother trudging down the stairs, dressed in a silk floral nightgown, her hair in a lazy bun, her gaze pinned on Shanya.

"Now why would you think that," her mum continued in a fruity voice, holding onto what Shanya suspected was a cup of coffee.

She pinned her mom with a death glare as she rose up from her stooping position. "You're gonna act like that bothers you, like you act like Dad's death bothered you?"

Her mom finally reached the edge of the stairs, she placed her cup of coffee on the stool next to the armchair Chicago was sitting on and stood upright. Dark eyes stared pensively at her deep brown.

"Why do you always say the meanest things, Shanya-Rose?"

Chicago rose from his seat, gave Shanya a reproaching look before pecking their mom. Ever the mediator, he said, "She didn't mean it, Mum."

Yes, I did.

It took everything in Shanya's power not to scream that out loud. Looking at her brother and mother now, their affection for each other glaringly obvious, Shanya couldn't help but feel jealous. Chicago had been closest to their mom while Shanya was more of a daddy's girl. Even in looks. She had her dad's tender brown eyes and strong facial features, but she took her mum's height and rich natural hair texture as well as her slim figure. Chicago however, took their mother's oval face and soft features; although he'd inherited their dad's lean and strong physique. That is, before he got sick.

Chicago still had their mother, but she had no one. She was alone.

"Mum," she said, throwing a honeyed sound into it, "I want to leave."

Her mom looked back at her for a minute and in that moment, Shanya caught a glimpse of something resembling remorse, but it was gone too quickly. Her mother moved away from Chicago's embrace and stood before Shanya.

"Why?"

Is she serious?

"Mum, just sign the paper." She reached into her jean back pocket and withdrew a small piece of paper containing the contract of transfer. She stretched it out to her mother. "I'm told it needs two signatures in order to get the money I want. Sign it. You don't want me here anyway."

If her mum was bothered by this, she didn't show it. Barely glancing at the paper, she muttered, "Not until you're twenty-one."

Shanya crossed her arms, aware that she was behaving like a brat but hardly giving a rat's ass. "I'm not staying here a minute longer. So work around it."

Her mom stared her down. "This ain't no white people's home, Shanya Rose. You're not grown. You can't just do whatever the hell you want."

"Why not? You did. You brought that fleabag into our home. You made my life a mess. You disgraced our family. Your affair has cost me my friends, my chances of getting into a good college, and a fair portion of my money," Shanya seethed, aware of the murderous look Chicago was throwing her way. She sent him one of her own.

Just focus on being a good o'le mama's boy, Robot.

"First of all, don't insult Dwight," her mum warned her very calmly, taking a small step towards her. "You barely know him. Second of all, it is not your money. It is your dad's and mine."

"And the affair? Were you arrogant enough to think you won't get caught? Or that your actions won't bring about severe consequences? You're going bankrupt, Mum. Soon, we will all be living on dad's insurance money. How long till that runs out too?"

Her mother scoffed. "For Christ's sake Shanya-Rose, I'm the parent here. Let me worry about that."

Shanya grew impatient. More so than she'd been when the conversation had just been between herself and her hooligan of a brother. Opening her mouth to say something scathing, hefty footsteps from the direction of the stairs caught her attention, silencing her.

Her mother's lover, a.k.a the infamous ex Principal Dwight appeared before them. Every cell in Shanya's body seized with disgust as tensions spiked up a notch. The very air turned unbreathable as Shanya stared with repressed anger at Dwight. The white robes he wore strained under his broad shoulders and thick arms and his expression was nothing short of guarded.

She'd once respected this man—held him in high esteem if she was being completely honest. She remembered how it had been like in school when he'd walked across the hall ways. He had such a commanding presence and a no-nonsense vibe about him that you seldom had anyone talking to him without breaking out into a sweat. She'd admired that the most.

Now, he was nothing more than a homewrecker to her. A literal slab of wood. She no more revered him than she did the dirt under her boots. She hoped he knew that.

Dwight seemed to sense the tension in the air as he pinched his eyebrows. "Ann, is everything okay?" His voice was low, stentorian.

Her mother smiled at him, but made no move to go to him. "Nothing I can't handle, Dwight. Go back upstairs."

Shanya blinked involuntarily. It was both troubling and mesmerizing to see her cutthroat former principal being ordered around by her mother. Then again, they were both authoritative figures so it wouldn't surprise her if they shared the pants in the relationship.

But Dwight didn't seem the least bit bothered, only resilient. He made a move forward, but then seemed to think better of it and remained where he stood.

Exchanging a look with her mother, he turned his gaze to Shanya. Despite all the trouble she'd initiated in school, she'd never once been sent to the principal's office. But that look Dwight was giving her made her feel like she was in one. It was keen and intrusive, as if trying to fish out a secret.

But he averted his eyes back to her mother and nodded solemnly. "Alright. This looks like something you all need to solve among yourselves, so I'll go."

"Maybe you shouldn't come back."

"Not another word from your mouth, Shanya-Rose." Her mum's warning this time sounded like a threat. Chicago who had surprisingly been silent seemed to notice the undertone too because he inched that much closer to their mother. "Go to your room. And don't come out until you're sober."

Sober? Sober? Her mother lost almost all their money, caused a huge scandal that was bound to be on the front pages of newspapers and magazines for weeks to come and she was the unsober one?

"You're such a hypocrite, Mother."

Shanya hadn't seen the slap coming but she doubted it would have made a difference even if she had. The room echoed with the sound as she whirled in pain, shock seizing her, her hands clasping her stinging cheek. Chicago was between them in an instant, taking Shanya away as Dwight tried to fend off their mom.

"How dare you speak to me in that manner?" Her mom yelled, trying to shove Dwight away from her but he wasn't letting go. "I am still your mother! And I will smack you black and blue until you learn to respect that."

"Ann, please," Dwight pleaded gently, he was losing his grip on her. Her mother took one look at him and stopped fighting, letting herself relax against his touch. It was a subtle, almost unnoticeable movement but Shanya had caught it.

It was in that moment that Shanya realized this wasn't just some casual, touch-and-go affair. This was the real deal.

Something dark and unpleasant brewed up inside her until she thought she would burst with it. With one shove, she pushed her insipid brother aside.

"Are you planning on marrying him, Mother?"

Dwight's expression gave away nothing, but the way her mother immediately tensed up told her everything she needed to know. Not only had her mother made a seasoned fool of her dad for God knew how long, she wanted to make it permanent. The stain on their name, the current threat of money loss, all of it didn't matter a wit to her because she was just going to keep doubling down on more shit.

Shanya's voice trembled as she said her next words.

"You want to continue with this charade, fine. As you've proven, you can do whatever you want. But if you think for one moment, that we are going to be one big happy family, you're delusional. I will never live under the same roof as you again."

That tension that had spiked up a notch earlier, tripled. Chicago and Dwight stood perfectly still, anxious concern riddling their features. But no one breathed a single word as she and her mother shared battled glances between each other.

Then, with a calmness unrivaled by any Shanya had ever heard before, her mother's voice cut into the deep silence that fell.

"There's the door."

"Mum, no," Chicago started, coming into Shanya's line of vision, his face tinged with brute determination. "Shanya, don't do this. Please. For once in your life, think before you act."

But he might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

Without another word, Shanya brushed past him and headed for the plain white door at the edge of the elaborate hallway, turned the knob and stepped out into the chilly night.

A/N: Ever left your house at 19 with no cash on you whatsoever? Yeah, me neither. Let's give Shanya a vote for having such balls.