The house was too quiet.
That kind of quiet that made Ally feel like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for trouble.
She stood by the living room window, hands on her hips, staring at the driveway. Her father's car was supposed to arrive an hour ago. He hadn't been home for weeks — months, actually — and the last time they spoke, he'd said, "I'll bring someone special this time."
That "someone special" was the problem.
Her fingers tapped against the window frame.
If "special" meant Maria, the woman who had married her father only two years after her mother's death, then yes — this day was going to be a disaster.
When the black car finally rolled through the gate, Ally straightened her posture and fixed the expression she'd practiced all week: polite… but dangerous.
The driver stepped out, opened the back door, and there he was — David Roberts, her father. Same neat hair, same expensive suit, same habit of pretending everything was fine.
"Ally!" he said, beaming as if she'd been waiting to run into his arms.
She didn't move.
Behind him stepped out Maria — perfect smile, expensive perfume, and eyes that always seemed to scan Ally like she was a school project gone wrong.
And then came him.
A tall guy in a gray hoodie, messy dark hair, carrying two bags with an easy grin. He looked more like he belonged in a college basketball court than in her father's fancy mansion.
"Ally," her father began, walking toward her, "this is Drake — Maria's son. He'll be staying with us for a while before the semester starts."
Drake raised an eyebrow and flashed a grin. "So you're the famous Ally. Your dad talks about you a lot."
Ally crossed her arms. "Funny. He doesn't talk to me a lot."
David sighed, half-smiling as if to ignore the tension. "Come on, sweetheart, let's be civil."
Drake chuckled under his breath. "Don't worry, Mr. Roberts. I can handle sarcasm."
"Good," Ally shot back, "because that's my second language."
The housekeeper wheeled in their luggage, and Maria gave Ally her usual tight-lipped smile. "Ally, dear, I hope you've kept your room tidy. We'll be having dinner together tonight."
"Oh, I'll be sure to clean up," Ally said sweetly. "Wouldn't want the new family to think I was raised by wolves."
Drake glanced between the two women, clearly fighting a smile. "I'm guessing family dinners here are… fun?"
"They're legendary," Ally replied. "Mostly because someone always ends up crying."
"Usually your father," Maria muttered, loud enough for Ally to hear.
Ally bit back her words and turned on her heel. "I'll be in my room."
As she climbed the stairs, she heard Drake whisper, "She's got fire."
Her father groaned. "She gets that from her mother."
When Ally reached her room, she slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it. Her heart was pounding — from anger, confusion… and something else she couldn't name.
She hated the situation. She hated that her father had replaced her mother so easily.
But most of all, she hated that Drake — that stranger with the calm smile and sharp eyes — had noticed her.
And for the first time in years, she felt something shift inside her quiet world.