Chapter 3

My ghost-self flickered in the decaying grandeur of the Grayson manor, unseen by Jack or his crew. A cold rage, familiar and impotent, swirled within me.

Sophia. Always Sophia. The perfect, suffering angel.

Jack continued to read from my old tablet, his voice a low murmur in the vast, empty space.

"November 5th, 2016.

Sophia, my adopted sister, is... nice. Very beautiful. Everyone loves her. She tried to teach me how to arrange flowers for the dining room. I accidentally knocked over the vase. Water everywhere. Mom looked so disappointed. Sophia cleaned it up, smiling, saying it was no big deal. But later, I heard Mom telling Dad I was clumsy, unteachable."

"November 20th, 2016.

I spent a week knitting a scarf for Noah's birthday. It wasn't perfect, but I was proud of it. I left it on his bed. Later, I saw Sophia wearing a beautiful, store-bought cashmere scarf. She said Noah loved it, that he'd said it was the best gift ever. I found my knitted scarf in the trash in the kitchen, under some coffee grounds."

The wind howled again, rattling a loose shutter somewhere upstairs. A floorboard creaked above them.

Dave jumped. "Dude, what was that?"

Jack held up a hand, listening. "Probably just the house settling. Or rats." He didn't sound convinced.

He returned to the tablet.

"December 10th, 2016.

There was a Christmas party. Sophia helped me pick out a dress. It felt... wrong. Too tight, too short. She said I looked stunning. At the party, I only had one glass of punch. I felt dizzy. Someone, a friend of Sophia's, kept trying to get me to dance. I remember stumbling. Then flashes of light. The next day, horrible photos were all over some gossip blog. Me, looking drunk, disheveled, clinging to that guy. The university called. They suggested I take a 'leave of absence.' Mom and Dad were furious. Noah... Noah just looked at me with such disappointment. He didn't believe me when I said I was set up."

Noah, in his penthouse, flinched as if struck. He remembered that look. The shame. The anger. He'd believed Sophia, who'd tearfully recounted how Emily had embarrassed them all.

Sophia, nestled in his arms, let out a soft sob. "She was so wild, Noah. I tried to guide her, to protect her from herself. But she wouldn't listen."

Mr. Grayson nodded grimly. "Wild blood. Can't be tamed."

Back in the manor, Jack scrolled through more entries, his expression growing darker.

"January 15th, 2017.

My boyfriend, Mark, from my old life, before the Graysons... he came to visit. Sophia was so charming to him. So interested in his art. The next week, he broke up with me. Said he needed someone more... stable. More like Sophia. I saw them together a month later, holding hands at a gallery opening."

The compass on the table beside Jack suddenly spun violently, then clattered to the floor, its glass face cracked.

"Okay, that's not rats," Dave said, his voice tight.

Jack picked up the damaged compass. "Something definitely doesn't want us reading this."

He looked back at the tablet, a new resolve in his eyes.

"February 28th, 2017.

Sophia was organizing a big charity auction for the children's hospital. She had this centerpiece sculpture she'd been working on for months. It was her big moment. The night before the auction, it was smashed. Everyone assumed it was me. Jealousy, they said. I heard Noah telling Dad, 'She's out of control. We have to do something.' I tried to tell him it wasn't me, but he wouldn't even look at me."

My voice, a whisper only I could hear, echoed in the cold room. "He wouldn't look at me."

"March 5th, 2017.

They're sending me away. To the old family estate in New England. For 'rest and recovery.' Mom said I needed professional help, that I was a danger to myself and others. Sophia cried when she hugged me goodbye. She said she'd visit. She promised."

The entry was followed by a string of darker, more fragmented thoughts.

"Depression is a heavy blanket. Smothering."

"The silence here is deafening. Or maybe it's just the screaming in my head."

"No one believes me."

"I am so alone."