Chapter 1 Who is playing the victim

The D.C. summer hit like a weapon. Late June and the heat was already a living thing, rising off the asphalt in shimmering waves that emptied the streets and made the air itself feel thick.

Ainsley dragged her suitcase down the stairs. One bag. Sixteen years.

She didn't need to see the living room to hear Katharina's voice-pitched in that perfect blend of curiosity and petty malice that had become her signature.

"Mom? Dad? Are Ainsley's *birth parents* actually coming to get her?"

Preston's response was sharp, distracted. "What business is that of yours? Have you practiced the piece for the recital? Your grandmother's friend will be here soon-Professor Debi Wong. Guest lecturer at Juilliard. Most respected art critic in the country. You perform well, and with your grandmother's recommendation, your spot is secure."

"I've been practicing, Daddy."

A pause. Then, with a theatrical sigh clearly meant to carry, Katharina pressed on. "Dad... what do you think they even *look* like? Her real parents?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial, mocking whisper that still managed to fill the room. "They said they were coming two days ago and they're just getting here *now*. You think they bought train tickets? Like, spent two days on a slow train from some backwoods village just to pick her up?"

Ainsley's foot paused on the stairs. Just for a heartbeat. A flicker of cold amusement cut through her dark eyes.

Three months ago, she'd walked in on Kade Miller getting a little too close to her dear *sister* Katharina. When she called them out, the truth that emerged was far uglier than a simple breakup.

She wasn't a Thomas. She never had been. She was adopted. A contingency plan.

Katharina had been born with a rare blood disorder. The Thomases had money-Preston had taken the company public the year before-but money couldn't manufacture the specific, rare blood type their precious daughter needed. So they'd found a solution: adopt a child with the right blood. A living, breathing blood bank.

Ainsley.

Her whole life, she'd been groomed to be the perfect, obedient older sister. Pretty clothes went to Katharina. Awards went to Katharina. Opportunities went to Katharina. She'd been a silent participant, believing in family.

Kade and Katharina's betrayal had just been the trigger. The explosion unearthed the foundation.

They'd only told her the truth now because Katharina was stable. Years of treatment had finally paid off-with proper care, she no longer needed monthly transfusions. Ainsley's utility was used up. And after she'd embarrassed Katharina at her birthday party by exposing the affair, the family had decided it was time to dispose of the asset.

Preston's voice cut through the memory, sharp with warning. "Katharina. Enough."

Katharina pouted, her voice dropping into a mock-whisper that was still perfectly audible. "It's a valid question. If they could afford plane tickets, they'd have been here sooner. They're probably just penniless trash."