Chapter 1

The rain hit the window in hard, angry sheets, just like the slaps that had sent me reeling moments before. I lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, the world a blurry mess of white porcelain and dark, swirling spots in my vision. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. Each one felt like swallowing glass.

"Just get up, Ava. Stop being so dramatic."

Mark' s voice was cold, bored. He stood over me, his expensive shoes just inches from my face. I could see a small scuff on the left one. He would probably get angry about that later. He got angry about everything.

"I can't," I whispered. The words were barely a sound. My chest was a tight knot of pain. I think a rib was broken. Maybe more than one.

He sighed, a long, impatient sound that I knew so well. It was the sound that came before things got worse.

"Fine. Stay there. But you're making Leo late for his dinner. You know how he gets when his routine is messed up."

He didn't offer a hand. He just stepped over me, his shadow falling across my body for a second before he walked out of the bathroom, leaving the door open. The bright hallway light felt like a physical blow.

I could hear him in the kitchen, humming. He was opening the refrigerator, the sound of a can of soda being opened, that crisp hiss. He was getting a drink while I was on the floor, unable to move. A wave of dizziness washed over me.

My sister, Chloe, was at the front door. I heard her voice, bright and cheerful, completely unaware.

"Hey! I was just in the neighborhood, thought I'd see if you guys wanted to grab some ice cream."

"Ava's not feeling well," Mark said. His voice was different now, full of fake concern. It was a voice he used for other people, for the outside world. "She's resting."

"Oh, no! Is it that bug that's been going around?" Chloe asked, her footsteps getting closer. I tried to call out, to say her name, but all that came out was a wet, choked sound.

"Something like that," Mark said, blocking the hallway. "Probably best to let her sleep it off. You know how she is, pushes herself too hard."

"Yeah, that's my sister," Chloe said, and I could hear the love in her voice. It was a sound I was desperate for. "Well, tell her I stopped by. I'll call her tomorrow."

"Will do," Mark said.

The front door closed. The lock clicked into place. He had sent her away. My last chance.

A profound coldness started in my toes and worked its way up. It wasn't the cold of the tile anymore. It was something deeper, something final. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling light, the bare bulb seeming to dim and pulse with the last, fading beats of my heart. I thought of Leo, my sweet little boy, probably sitting at the table waiting for a mother who would never come. I thought of Chloe, who would call tomorrow and get another lie. I thought of the twenty-six years I had been alive, and how they were all ending here, on this dirty floor.

My last breath left me in a quiet sigh.

And then, I was standing.

It didn't make any sense. The pain was gone. I looked down and saw my own body, still and pale on the tile. It looked like a discarded doll. Me, but not me.

I was light. I was nothing. I drifted out of the bathroom, a silent observer in my own home.

Mark was in the living room, on his phone. He was speaking in a low voice.

"Yeah, it's done... No, no mess. It just... happened. A fall."

He listened for a moment, his face a mask of concentration.

"The life insurance? I'll call them in the morning. We need to check the exact payout on the accidental death clause. It should be double. That's what we paid for."

My non-existent stomach churned. He wasn't grieving. He wasn't panicking. He was calculating. He was looking at my body on the floor, a body that was still warm, and he was thinking about money. The cruelty of it was breathtaking. He saw my death not as a tragedy, but as a financial opportunity.