My sister snapped a $4,000 violin across her knee to punish my daughter, completely unaware her daughter's name was carved inside it.

The following Tuesday was supposed to be quiet.

Theron was out of town at a regional conference. I was working from home, finishing an audit report in my upstairs office. Downstairs, the front door was unlocked because Jaren had texted ten minutes earlier saying he was dropping Bryer off for her rehearsal.

At least, that was what I assumed when I heard the heavy front door swing open downstairs.

"Bryer?" I called down, taking off my reading glasses. "Maya left the sheet music on the piano stand!"

There was no answer. Only the sharp, rapid click of high heels on the hardwood foyer.

I stood up, walking out to the second-floor landing.

Standing in the center of my living room was not Bryer. It was Tamsin.

She wore sunglasses indoors and a trench coat, her purse swinging violently on her shoulder. She looked like a woman possessed, her eyes darting across my vaulted ceiling, taking in the clean minimalist furniture, the expensive artwork, the sheer order of my life.

"Tamsin?" I said, descending the staircase slowly. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Where is it?" she demanded, her voice vibrating with manic fury. "Where did you put it?"

"Where did I put what? Get out of my house before I call the police."

"You ruined my life!" she screamed, taking two aggressive steps toward the stairs. "The landlord gave us a five-day notice to quit! Jaren took Bryer and slept at his brother's place last night! He’s not answering my calls! He took all our tax forms and bank cards! This is your doing! You poisoned him against me!"

"Jaren woke up to who you are, Tamsin. That has nothing to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you!" she shrieked. "You think you can buy people! You think you can buy my husband and buy my daughter with your fancy gifts!"

Suddenly, her gaze shifted past me.

On the center console table in the open living room sat the carbon-fiber violin case. Bryer had left it there the previous evening after her lesson, meticulously cleaned and polished, ready for today's practice session.

Tamsin's eyes widened. A feral, terrifying grin spread across her lips.

"Oh," she breathed. "There it is."

"Tamsin, don't touch that," I warned, my voice dropping into dead, absolute authority.

"This is Maya’s little trophy, isn't it?" Tamsin laughed, sprinting toward the table. "The four-thousand-dollar master instrument for your precious, perfect, spoiled brat!"