Part 2: My stepmother told me to be grateful for a cheap pair of socks while her son unwrapped dozens of expensive gifts, completely unaware that Grandma was about to ask where her $400 check went.

I looked over at Mason. He was only twelve, but he wasn't blind. Over the past year since Dana moved in with us, Mason had always been quiet. He never picked on me, but he never really stood up for me either. He just tried to stay out of Dana’s line of fire.

Suddenly, Mason stood up from the floor.

He walked over to the giant box containing the brand-new gaming console—the crown jewel of his morning. Without looking at his mother, he picked up the heavy box, carried it across the room, and set it down gently at my feet.

"Mason, what on earth are you doing?" Dana snapped, lunging forward to grab the box. "Don't touch that! Put it back under the tree right now!"

"No," Mason said, stepping in front of his mother. His voice shook, but he didn't move away. "I don't want it."

"You've been begging for that system for six months!" Dana cried.

"Yeah, but I didn't want you to steal Nat's present to buy it," Mason said, his face burning bright red with shame. "You always do this. You tell me we deserve nice things because Dad left us, but you're just mean to Natalie when Adam isn't looking. You took her markers last month and gave them to me. You made her eat leftovers while we got takeout last Tuesday."

My eyes widened. I had never told Dad about the takeout incident because Dana had threatened to tell Dad I was lying to cause drama.

Dad turned his gaze from Mason to Dana, his expression transforming from anger into cold, unyielding realization. "You did what?"