The Niece Who Nuked My Figures

"I just got pregnant with my second child, so my health is extremely fragile right now. Why did you push Tyler to the ground? Who's going to take care of me? I'll kill you if anything happens to the baby!" Alison threatened.

Seeing the disastrous state of the room, my mother, Elaine Rowe, froze for a moment, then frowned. She quickly walked over to help Tyler up.

"Oh dear, the floor's freezing and covered in broken glass. Come on, get up. Celeste didn't get cut, did she?"

Mom took Celeste from Tyler's arms and examined her from head to toe. Only after confirming Celeste was completely unharmed did she let out a sigh of relief.

Then, she turned to glare at me.

"Arlene, you're a grown woman. How can you still hold a grudge against a child? Celeste is only five years old—she doesn't know any better."

I pointed at the fragments on the floor.

"Those were my collectibles, worth seven figures. She might not know any better, but Tyler certainly should."

Alison let out a scornful laugh and kicked a severed figurine head aside.

"Seven figures? Arlene, if you're going to lie, at least come up with something more believable. I mean, as if this pile of plastic junk could ever be worth a million dollars. You must be out of your mind for money!"

Tyler groaned, clutching his lower back.

"Honey, my stomach hurts. Arlene is trying to scam us. She just can't stand seeing us do well and wants to swindle me out of my savings."

My father, Nate Manning, said grimly, "Enough! It's Christmas—don't be a buzzkill by bringing up all this talk about money. They're just toys. So what if they're broken? Out with the old, in with the new, I'd say."

He turned to look at me. "Clean up this room right now. There's glass everywhere. What if Celeste gets cut? Once it's clean, come down and make dinner. Tyler's had a shock, so you're cooking tonight."

With that, he waved his hand and told Alison to help Tyler downstairs.

The whole family clustered together and left.

No one gave the mess on the floor a second glance or asked if I was hurt or sad.

I stood there watching them disappear down the stairwell.

So much for family.

I crouched down, my hands trembling as I picked up Singer's head. The vinyl surface was marked with deep footprints from Celeste's shoes, dirt embedded in the figurine's eyes.

I took out my phone and photographed and recorded videos from every angle, capturing every detail of the fragments and every corner that had been destroyed, including the cabinet door that had been kicked in.

After finishing all that, I got a broom and carefully swept the fragments into a cardboard box.

Once the room was cleaned up, I was about to lock the door and head downstairs.

I took the key out of my pocket and inserted it into the lock. However, it wouldn't turn.

I froze for a moment. Then, I pulled it out and tried again. Still, it wouldn't turn.

I bent down to take a closer look at the keyhole.

The brand-new cylindrical lock gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen.

This wasn't my original door lock. They had changed it for me!

The sound of television and Celeste's laughter drifted up from downstairs.

The dining table was already covered with walnut shells and pomegranate peels.

Tyler was lying on the couch scrolling through his phone, while Alison sat beside him peeling grapes for him.

Mom was busy in the kitchen, the range hood rumbling loudly.

I tossed the useless key onto the living room coffee table with a clatter.

Alison flinched, and a grape fell to the ground.

She shot me a glare and asked, "What is wrong with you?"

"Who changed the lock on my room?"

Alison picked up the grape and blew on it before popping it into her mouth.

"I did. What about it?" She even had the nerve to sound justified. "The previous fingerprint lock broke, so I had the locksmith install a new one. Tyler has the key. Go ask him for it."

Tyler never took his eyes off his phone as he typed away rapidly.

"Oh, the key? Celeste took it to play with. I've no idea where she tossed it. Anyway, you're hardly ever home, so there's no need to lock the door. We're family—it's not like anyone's going to steal from you."