Chapter 4

The next morning, I went to my follow-up appointment alone. The doctor looked at the angry red welts and scratches on my skin and shook his head.

Emily burst into the examination room, her face pale with fury. She had heard what happened from a friend who was at the party.

"What is wrong with those people?" she seethed, her hands clenched into fists. "Ignoring their real daughter for a fake one? Are they all blind? And Daniel? Thank god you're not marrying that piece of trash!"

I looked at her, my heart filled with a strange calmness. The storm inside me had passed.

"I'm leaving them, Emily," I said quietly. "For good."

Just then, the door opened again. It was Daniel. He was holding a thermos.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Emily and I exchanged a look. I didn't want to tell him about Michael Blackwood yet. Not until it was done.

Daniel stepped forward, placing the thermos on the small table. "Once you're recovered, you need to go and apologize to Olivia. This was your fault."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "What if I said I did nothing wrong? What if I refuse to apologize?"

His expression turned to stone. "Sarah, you have to admit when you're wrong. I overlooked what you did to Olivia seven years ago when you pushed her into the pool, but this time, I saw it with my own eyes!"

The air left my lungs. Seven years ago. He never believed me then, either. He had saved me from drowning, but he had condemned me in his heart.

Tears welled in my eyes, hot and sharp, and one fell, splashing into the open lid of the thermos he had brought. It was seafood chowder. The rich smell hit me, and my throat tightened for a different reason.

I was severely allergic to seafood. One taste could send me into anaphylactic shock.

In seven years of being his fiancée, in all the years I had lived in that house, they had never once bothered to learn this simple, vital fact about me.

I had clung to the tiny scraps of warmth they threw my way, sacrificing my pride, my art, my entire being, for a family that didn't even know what could kill me.

When I returned to the Hayes mansion, the last of my hope died.

My art studio, my one sanctuary in that house, was gone. The walls were now lined with mirrors and a ballet barre. My canvases, my paints, my sculptures-everything was gone.

I found my things piled in a dusty corner of the storage room. My competition piece, a large canvas I had spent three months pouring my soul into, was slashed and smeared with what looked like black paint. Ruined.

Rage, pure and blinding, surged through me.

I found Olivia in her new dance studio, stretching gracefully in front of the mirror.

I didn't think. I just moved. I raised my hand to slap the triumphant smile off her face.

But a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. It was Daniel. He twisted my arm, his grip like iron, and then he shoved me. Hard.

The force of it sent me stumbling back. I hit the wall, and the impact knocked the wind out of me. A sharp pain radiated through my chest, as if something inside had broken.

"She's done nothing wrong!" Martha shrieked, rushing to Olivia's side.

David stood in the doorway, his face a thundercloud. "Sarah, you're being petty! It's just a room!"

"A room?" I was on the verge of a breakdown, my voice cracking. "But if I don't fight, I have nothing in this house! She doesn't have to fight for anything, and she gets it all! I am your real daughter! Why? Why do I have to give everything to her?"

"That's enough!" David roared, and he strode forward. He slapped me.

The world tilted. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw Olivia's face. She was smiling. A genuine, victorious smile.

Then I felt something warm and wet trickle from my nose. I touched my face. My fingers came away red. Blood dripped from my nose onto the pristine white floorboards.

David' s anger vanished, replaced by shock. "Sarah..." He reached for me.

I flinched away from his touch as if he were fire.

I scrambled to my feet and ran. I fled the house, stumbling down the long driveway, not looking back.

From the window of the dance studio, Daniel watched me go. I saw a flicker of something in his eyes-regret, maybe. But it was too late.

I was gone. I wanted nothing more to do with him, or with this family, ever again.