I learned early to keep talk of Grace and Molly off the table, but Heidi is always bringing them up. At times I think she is jealous. But what’s been worse is that her attitude has also changed towards Asher and my dad. It’s shifted a lot. There is this underlying hatred I’m starting to notice, and I think she’s trying to lure me to her side with some of her sob stories. I find most, if not all of them, hard to believe.

When I step out of my room into the suite, I see Heidi and she’s clearly distressed. Her eyes are wild as she holds bags in her hands. Which is strange. She’d normally have someone else bring them to the room for her. Heidi can’t do much for herself. I have no clue how she ever thought she could have kids and take care of them.

“Date go bad?” I ask. She’s been on a bunch of those lately.

I had no interest when she tried to add me to one of those apps. I actually think it’s a bit risky with the amount of money our family name carries. I don’t mean because we’re in another country. Though part of whatever deal Heidi took in the divorce, she had lost the last name Score. I suppose some might not know but still. She screams money. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

“They’re trying to ruin me!” She drops the bags to the floor. “They hate us! You don’t understand, and now they know we’re close, and they’re going to make up lies to rip us apart like they did before!”

“What are you talking about?” Her pupils are so big I wonder if she’s on coke. A few girls at school did it.

“Tomas and Asher!” she screeches.

“They don’t know I’m with you.”

“Oh, they do, and now it begins. They are trying to say I’ve been stealing from them. That…” She goes off on a tangent, but my mind starts to click things into place. It was her.

“You brought me here so that I’d save you, didn't you?” I cut her off, not hearing most of what she said. “You knew if anyone could get Asher or Dad to not press charges for whatever you’ve done, it would be because I asked them not to. You used me. You haven’t changed one bit.”

“You’d let them do this to your own mother!” she screams at me. Her words trigger me. Flashes of her throwing fits when I was little flip through my mind one after another. The way she looked at me. She hated me. I think she still does. I’ve noticed the small comments here and there that she makes. This is all fake.