Chapter 2

The images from the party burned in her mind. Devastated wasn't a strong enough word.

Back in her small, sparsely furnished room in the Harrison mansion, Sarah took out her applications for the local university. The one her parents had grudgingly approved because it was cheap and nearby.

She tore them into tiny pieces.

Her phone had been "confiscated for discipline" weeks ago after she' d asked if she could have a new pair of shoes because her current ones had holes.

She found a few coins in an old piggy bank.

She walked to the nearest payphone, the rain still falling, though softer now.

She dialed Ms. Peterson, her high school counselor, the only adult who had ever shown her genuine kindness.

"Ms. Peterson? It's Sarah Miller."

"Sarah! Are you alright? I was so worried about you with the storm and the SATs!"

"I'm fine," Sarah lied, her voice flat. "That scholarship you told me about? The one for MIT? Is the offer still open?"

Ms. Peterson sounded relieved. "Yes, Sarah, absolutely! I knew you could get it. It's a full ride. I was so disappointed when you said your parents wanted you to stay local. I know things are... difficult at home."

The counselor hesitated. "We can figure out travel and accommodation. I'll help you apply for aid."

Sarah let out a bitter laugh, a dry, rasping sound.

"Don't worry about family visits, Ms. Peterson. They won't be happening."

There was a pause. "Sarah, I'm so glad you're taking this step."

A memory surfaced, sharp and cold. She was seven years old, sent away to a harsh, underfunded boarding school in a remote, desolate state.

"To toughen you up," David had said, his face unreadable. "The world is a hard place."

She endured years of neglect there, of hunger and cold, learning to rely only on herself. No calls, no visits.

When she finally returned home at fifteen, a stranger in her own house, she found Ashley.

Ashley, adopted in her absence, was everything Sarah wasn't – bubbly, pretty, and adored.

Her parents were polite but distant, their eyes always following Ashley. Victoria, especially, treated Sarah with a thinly veiled disdain, as if her very presence was an inconvenience.

For three years, Sarah had tried. Oh, how she had tried. She excelled academically, won awards, catered to their every whim, learned their preferences, hoping for a crumb of affection, a glance of approval.

She remembered when Ms. Peterson first told her about the MIT scholarship, a year ago. Sarah had been ecstatic.

But her parents had wept. Victoria clutched her chest. "We can't lose you again, Sarah! We just got you back."

David had promised a lavish debutante ball, a formal introduction to society, "to show the world our brilliant daughter."

She had believed them. She had turned down the scholarship.

The debutante ball never materialized. It was always "next year," or "when the market is better."

The SAT day betrayal, Ashley's party juxtaposed with her father' s cruelty, shattered that last, fragile illusion. There was nothing left to hope for from them.