Chapter 1

I always felt like a ghost in my own house, a stranger to the people who gave me life.

They found me again, after years lost in the system, a foster kid with too many bad memories.

But "found" didn't mean "seen."

My parents, David and Sarah Miller, they looked right through me.

Their eyes, their smiles, their praise, it all went to Kyle.

Kyle, my adopted brother, the golden boy who filled my empty space so perfectly they forgot I was ever gone.

I tried, you know.

Small things.

A drawing.

Helping with chores no one asked me to do.

Hoping they' d notice.

They never did.

Or if they did, they' d compare it to something Kyle did, and mine always came up short.

That afternoon, the air was thick, heavy.

I was walking home, thinking about Kyle' s big debate tournament.

State level.

My parents were already there, beaming, I was sure.

A black van screeched beside me.

Doors flew open.

Hands, rough and strong, grabbed me, a cloth slammed over my mouth.

It smelled sweet, sickening.

My world went dark.

I woke up tied to a chair, my head throbbing.

A man with dead eyes watched me. Marcus Thorne. I didn' t know his name then, just the coldness in his gaze.

He took my phone.

He scrolled through my contacts, landed on "Dad."

The phone rang. I could hear it.

"Hello?" My father' s voice, sharp, impatient.

Thorne didn' t speak, just held the phone so I could hear.

"Ethan? Is that you? What is it now? Can't you see I'm busy?"

I tried to scream, to make any sound, but the gag was tight.

"Whatever it is, Ethan, your brother's debate is what matters today! Don't cause trouble."

The line clicked dead.

Thorne looked at me, a strange expression on his face.

He scoffed, a dry, humorless sound.

"Wrong son, huh? Seems they don't care much about this one."

My heart shattered. Not because of the ropes or the man, but because of those words.

"Your brother's debate is what matters."

Even in this, I was second best, an inconvenience.

Thorne pocketed my phone.

The dread that filled me was colder than any fear of him.

It was the dread of knowing, truly knowing, I was utterly alone.