Chapter 1

The air in the small, overheated classroom felt thick, making it hard to breathe.

Mrs. Albright, Ethan's third-grade teacher, smiled tightly, her gaze shifting between me and the empty chair beside me.

Mark was supposed to be here.

He'd called an hour ago, his voice smooth, apologetic.

"Something's come up at the office, Chloe. Izzy's here, consulting on the new merger, can't be helped."

Izzy. His ex-girlfriend. Now a"consultant."

Mrs. Albright cleared her throat."So, Mrs. Harrison, about Ethan's recent behavioral reports..."

Before she could continue, Ethan, my nine-year-old son, piped up, his voice clear and loud, carrying across the room to where other parents waited.

"She's not my real mom."

A hush fell. My face burned.

Ethan looked straight at me, his eyes cold, a miniature version of his father's.

"Grandma Eleanor said so. She said Dad took you in. Like charity."

The words hit me hard.. Other parents stared, some with pity, others with a knowing smirk I'd come to expect in Boston's elite circles.

Mrs. Albright looked horrified."Ethan, that's not appropriate."

But the damage was done. Years of small cuts, and now this, a deep, public gash.

I stood up, my legs trembling slightly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Albright. We'll discuss this at home."

I couldn't meet her eyes. I couldn't meet anyone

As I walked Ethan to the car, the silence between us was heavy. He didn't look sorry. He looked proud.

Inside the car, I didn't speak. My hands gripped the steering wheel.

This was it. The breaking point.

I felt a familiar vibration from my purse. My burner phone.

A message from"Benefactor."

"Heard it went badly. The farm is ready when you are. L."

Liam. My old college friend. My only friend.

A small, almost painful sigh escaped me. I touched my still-flat abdomen. A new life, a secret. A reason.

My resolve hardened. I would leave. Soon.

The main phone, the one Mark knew about, buzzed. A message from Mark.

"How did it go? Ethan okay? Izzy says hi. She's wondering if you'd mind if she picked out new drapes for the living room. Says the current ones are dreary."

Dreary. Like my life.

His disregard, his casual cruelty, it wasn't even surprising anymore. It was just... Mark.

I didn't reply.

Driving through Boston's pristine, old-money streets, I felt like an outsider, a ghost haunting a life that was never truly mine.

The Harrison family crest on the gates of our mansion seemed to mock me.

This latest humiliation, Ethan's words, weren't just a child's outburst. They were a reflection of everything I'd endured.

Years of being told I wasn't good enough, smart enough, from the right family.

Eleanor Harrison, Mark's mother, had made her disapproval clear from day one.

Izzy, with her perfect pedigree and sharp smile, was her preferred choice.

And Mark, he enjoyed playing the savior, the man who had"rescued" me from my working-class Pennsylvania roots.

But I knew the truth. I knew what happened that night at the college party, the night Ethan was conceived. The night Mark and his mother had covered up.

The memory was a cold knot in my stomach.

My hand went to my abdomen again. This baby, Liam's baby, was my secret, my hope.

My quiet resistance had begun long ago, with small acts of defiance. This escape would be the biggest.

I remembered packing a small music box, a gift from my deceased grandfather. It was one of the few things that was truly mine.

The thought of it, safe in my hidden bag, gave me a sliver of comfort.

This time, I wouldn't just endure. I would act.