My father had a wife before her. He never mentioned her when we were growing up. I don’t even know her name. In fact, I’ve only ever seen a photo of her once. That was when I was late one morning on the way to school and needed to grab lunch money, and Dad’s wallet was the only one around.

I missed the bus that day because when the small thumbnail-sized photo had slipped out along with the dollar bills, I’d been surprised. My father had a picture of a stranger in his wallet. He didn’t even carry photos of his kids.

She was beautiful, I remember, in a very different way than my mother. She had the same dark eyes my brother does, except that hers shone bright. Hers held a warm smile inside them. His? His are dead. Have been for as long as I can remember.

I’d quickly shoved the photo back into the flap of the wallet when I’d heard my mother’s high heels rushing toward the kitchen as she yelled at me that I’d missed the bus. She’d made me walk the six miles to school in the pouring rain.

I hate my mother.

As we pull onto the long driveway of our house, the single light that’s on in Evangeline’s room goes out.

Abel mutters something about her not listening under his breath but drops it.

I look up at the house. It’s the first time I’ve seen it in half a year. It’s a sprawling, once beautiful home in a cul-de-sac on a quiet street just outside of the French Quarter. And as I stare up at it, all those feelings I had growing up come churning back, leaving my stomach in knots and my hands growing clammy.

“Home sweet home,” Abel says as he kills the engine of the Rolls Royce.

“Why didn’t you have Joseph drive you?” I ask when he opens his door. I find it curious he drove himself since my brother is all about appearances and climbing that social ladder of a society that doesn’t want him.

He has one leg out the door but stops and turns to me. “I’ll hire my own driver. I don’t need Dad’s leftovers.”

“He’s not a leftover. He’s a human being. What is he, seventy years old? Did you fire him?”

“Joseph isn’t your problem, Ivy. Let’s go. I’m tired, and we have a big day ahead of us.”