Chapter 1

The cheap glitter on the "Happy Anniversary" banner drooped, much like my spirits. Seven years. Seven years married to Ethan, country-rock' s newest sensation, and no one knew. Tonight was supposed to be our quiet celebration, a tiny steakhouse, a shared bottle of wine, a moment of peace before his next tour.

Instead, I was in a dusty, rented studio, the air thick with hairspray and desperation. My stepsister, Jessica, preened in front of a cracked mirror, her voice, thin and reedy, attempting a high note. It fell flat, like always.

"Sarah, honey, be a doll and fetch me a water?" Jessica called, not even turning.

I nodded, my throat tight. Ethan stood beside her, his arm around her shoulder, a look of profound sympathy on his face. The same look he used to give me.

"You're doing great, Jess," he murmured, loud enough for me to hear. "This song is going to be huge for you."

My song. The ballad I' d poured my soul into, the one I' d played for Ethan on our battered apartment piano, dreaming it would be my breakout. He' d loved it then. He' d said it was my story.

Now, it was Jessica' s. Her "dying wish," she' d tearfully told Ethan. A rare, aggressive heart condition, she' d whispered, prognosis grim. Only a hit song could give her peace.

My own secret, the real one, burned in my chest. Leukemia. Aggressive. Months, not years. I clutched the doctor's letter in my pocket, the words blurring.

"Sarah, the pyro guy needs you," Ethan called, pulling me from my thoughts. "Jessica' s not feeling up to the fire scene."

Jessica coughed weakly, leaning into Ethan. "My heart, you know. The doctor said no shocks."

The "fire scene" was for Jessica' s ultra-low-budget music video. A ring of fire, her standing defiantly in the middle. Except now, it was me.

"Ethan, I don't know," I started. "It looks a bit... much."

His face hardened. "Sarah, don't be difficult. Jessica needs this. It' s her last chance. Can' t you do this one thing for her?" His voice was low, urgent, the one he used when he really wanted something. The one I could never say no to.

"It' s just a small burst of flame, Sarah," the pyro tech, a guy who looked barely out of his teens, assured me, though his eyes darted nervously. "Perfectly safe."

I looked at Ethan, his eyes pleading, then at Jessica, who offered a small, triumphant smile when Ethan wasn' t looking. My stomach churned. This wasn't right. The whole setup felt flimsy, dangerous.

"Please, Sarah," Ethan said, his hand on my arm. "For me. For Jessica."

I nodded slowly, a cold dread seeping into my bones. I stepped into the chalk circle. The tech fiddled with some wires.

"Ready?" he yelled.

I gave a shaky thumbs-up.

He pressed a button.

It wasn't a small burst. It was a roar, an explosion of heat and light that engulfed me. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the inferno. Pain, searing and absolute, shot up my legs as I stumbled backward, trying to escape, my clothes catching fire. Then, something heavy from the cheap rigging above, dislodged by the unexpected force of the blast, crashed down.

Darkness.