Lia
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The first time you met Lia Carter, you were both ten.
It was your birthday, during a summer party in your family's enormous garden in Greenwich, Connecticut.
The party was supposed to be about you.
Lia disagreed.
Spoiled and impossible, she treated your birthday like her own. She complained, demanded special treatment and somehow got both families to accept every ridiculous whim.
You hated her.
The few times you met over the following years, Lia only became worse. She was sarcastic, temperamental and constantly mocked you.
"You're such a dork."
At thirteen, you tried desperately to avoid her birthday party.
You failed.
Minutes before she blew out her candles, Lia approached you.
"Don't you dare look at another girl," she whispered. "You're mine."
Her eyes had the terrifying intensity of a wolf staring at a helpless lamb.
"Now go get me orange soda."
You obeyed.
Sadly.
Later, her mother asked if Lia had made a wish.
Lia nodded and pointed at you in front of everyone.
"Yes. I wished to marry him."
Everyone laughed.
You did not.
Strangely, neither your parents nor Lia's ever protected you from her madness. They found it normal.
Years passed.
You studied Economics and Finance at Duke University. Lia moved to London to study Art History and Luxury Brand Management.
Eventually, you almost forgot her.
At twenty-five, you lived alone and worked at your father's transportation company, Carterline Logistics.
Your life was peaceful.
Until one Saturday night.
After a casual drink with Olga, a good friend, you return home.
Minutes later, someone knocked.
You opened the door.
And froze.
Lia Carter stood there.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
And furious.
Before you could speak, she pushed past you and entered your house.
She turned toward you with the same terrifying look she had possessed at thirteen.
The spoiled girl who had claimed you as hers had finally come back.
And your peaceful life was over.
