She had baked cakes, arranged catering, and cleaned every room that guests might enter. Richard had invited business associates, old friends, and several relatives who rarely visited unless there was a celebration.
I knew exactly what was expected of me.
I would help serve food, collect glasses, clear plates, and make sure no one noticed how exhausted I was.
It was always easier to keep the guests happy than to risk disappointing Richard.
But when I opened the front door that evening, I immediately sensed that something was wrong.
The hallway was unusually quiet.
The television was off. Richard's office door stood closed, and the light beneath it was dark. Daniel and Michael weren't home yet.
Mom was standing beside the staircase.
My suitcase sat on the floor next to her.
For a moment, I thought I had entered the wrong house.
"Mom?"
She looked up.
Her eyes were red and swollen. Her hands were trembling so badly that she had clasped them together in front of her.
"You're home," she said.
I stared at the suitcase.
"Why is my bag packed?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom, what's going on?"
She glanced toward the staircase, then toward the closed door of Richard's office.
That small movement frightened me more than anything she could have said.
"Ashley," she whispered, "you can't live here anymore."
I laughed because I genuinely thought she had made a terrible joke.
"What?"
"You need to leave tonight."
I looked at her face, waiting for the smile that would tell me this was some kind of misunderstanding.
There was no smile.
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"I've arranged for you to stay somewhere."
"Where?"
She shook her head.
"Please don't ask me that right now."
My heart began to race.
"Did Richard tell you to do this?"
Her expression changed.
For one second, I saw something that looked like terror.
Then she grabbed my hands.
"No matter what happens tomorrow, you must not come back here."
I pulled away.
"Tomorrow? What happens tomorrow?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
I had seen Mom frightened before. I had seen her cry after Richard humiliated her in front of relatives. I had seen her apologize for things she hadn't done.
But I had never seen her look at me as if my presence in the house might put me in danger.
"Sweetheart," she said, her voice breaking, "I need you to trust me."
"Trust you? You're throwing me out of my own home!"
"I know."
"You haven't even told me why!"
"I know, Ashley."
"Then tell me!"
She covered her mouth and began to cry.
I wanted to hold her. I wanted to demand answers. I wanted to march into Richard's office and ask him what he had done this time.
Instead, I stood frozen in the hallway, looking at the woman who had raised me.
For thirteen years, I had waited for her to choose me over her fear.
Now she was sending me away without explaining anything.
It felt like another betrayal.
"Is this because I refused to help with the party?" I asked. "Because I told you I had to work until six?"
"No."
"Did I do something to Richard?"
"No, baby. You did nothing wrong."
"Then why?"
She pressed a small envelope into my hand.
"Keep this somewhere safe. Don't open it until I tell you to."
I looked down at the envelope.
My name was written on the front in Mom's handwriting.
"What is it?"
"Something important."
"Important enough that you have to kick me out?"
Her face crumpled.
"I'm sorry."
That was all she said.
I waited for more. An explanation. A promise. Anything.
Instead, she picked up my suitcase and pushed it toward the front door.
I couldn't believe it.
"Mom, please."
She wouldn't look at me.
"Go now."
"Where will you be?"
She swallowed hard.
"I'll be here."
"Will Richard be here?"
She flinched.
I noticed it, but I was too hurt to understand what it meant.
"Please, Ashley. You need to leave before he comes downstairs."
I stared at her.
Then I heard a faint sound from above us.
A floorboard creaked.
Mom went completely still.
Her grip tightened around the suitcase handle.
"Go," she whispered.
This time, there was no hesitation in her voice.
I grabbed my coat, took the suitcase, and stepped outside.
Mom followed me to the threshold.
For a brief second, I thought she would finally tell me the truth.
Instead, she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
"I love you more than anything in this world."
"Then why are you doing this?"
She closed her eyes.
"Because I need you to be alive tomorrow."
Before I could ask what she meant, she shut the door.
I heard the lock turn.
I stood on the porch for several seconds, staring at the place where my mother had disappeared.
Then I heard another sound from inside.
A man's voice.
Richard's voice.
"Is she gone?"
My blood ran cold.
Mom answered so quietly that I couldn't make out her words.
Richard said something else.
Then came a loud crash.
I stepped backward, nearly tripping over my suitcase.