Chapter 1

My world was painted with words nobody else could see. They floated over people, places, and things, shimmering like heat haze on a summer road. They were predictive text, my life' s secret user manual.

[Orphanage Cafeteria: Another meal of lukewarm oatmeal. Probability of a better breakfast: 2%.]

I sat at the long wooden table, a ten-year-old girl in a line of other forgotten children at the St. Jude' s Home for Children. I was Chloe Miller, and I was waiting for a family. Not for the first time. The last family had returned me after a week.

[Reason: "Too quiet, too watchful." ]

Today was different. Today was the annual adoption fair, a strange human marketplace where hopeful couples browsed for children like produce. Mrs. Davies, the orphanage director with kind eyes and perpetually tired shoulders, gave us a pep talk.

"Just be yourselves," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Two families stood out. The first was the Hendersons. They radiated warmth and money. Liam Henderson, their son, was a golden-haired boy my age with a smile that could sell toothpaste. He was laughing, shaking hands, the perfect picture of a happy, well-adjusted child. They were looking to adopt a girl.

The text over his head was bright and welcoming.

[Liam Henderson: Popular, kind-hearted, a life of ease and acceptance awaits.]

It was a dream. The life I always wanted. A life with sunny picnics and family vacations. A life without the constant, gnawing ache of being alone.

Then I saw the Sterlings.

They stood in the corner, a pocket of ice in the warm room. Mr. Sterling was a tall, severe man who looked straight through everyone. His son, Blake, stood beside him, a mirror image of his father' s coldness but with a storm of something darker in his eyes. He was all sharp angles and silence, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked less like he wanted a sister and more like he wanted the world to end.

The text over him was stark and forbidding.

[Blake Sterling: Emotionally damaged, reclusive. A future of turmoil and pain.]

My heart sank. That was a dead end. A path to more hurt.

I watched as the Hendersons approached me, their smiles wide and genuine. Mr. Henderson crouched down to my level.

"Hello there, Chloe. I' m Robert, and this is my wife, Sarah, and our son, Liam."

Liam gave me a small, friendly wave. "Hi."

I was about to smile back, to say the right things, to choose the sun and warmth. But then, the text above Liam flickered, new words overwriting the old ones in a flash of crimson light.

[WARNING: Choosing this path leads to temporary warmth, followed by inevitable, soul-crushing heartbreak. The Henderson family legacy is built on a secret that will destroy you. AVOID AT ALL COSTS.]

I flinched. The words were a physical blow. I looked over at Blake Sterling, who was staring at the floor as if willing it to swallow him whole. The text above him changed too, this time in a soft, steady blue.

[Alternative Path: A cold and difficult beginning. This boy is broken, but you are the key to his healing. Choosing him will uncover a painful truth but forge a bond of unbreakable strength. A path to true family. RECOMMENDED.]

My breath caught in my throat. Every instinct screamed to run to the Hendersons, to ignore the terrifying warning and grab the happiness that was right in front of me. But the text had never lied. It had warned me which foster brother would steal my things, which teacher would be unfair. It was my only reliable guide.

I took a deep breath, my small hands curling into fists. This was the most important choice of my life.

I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Henderson' s hopeful faces. I looked at Liam' s easy smile. Then I looked back at the boy drowning in the corner.

I turned away from the Hendersons, the perfect family, and walked across the room. The polished floor felt vast and empty. Every eye was on me. I stopped in front of Blake Sterling. He didn' t look up.

"I choose you," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Blake' s head snapped up. His gray eyes, so much older than a ten-year-old' s should be, widened in shock. Mr. Sterling looked down at me, his expression a mixture of annoyance and confusion. Mrs. Davies rushed over, flustered.

"Chloe, honey, are you sure?"

I nodded, my gaze locked on Blake. "I' m sure."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a new line of text appeared over Blake' s head, glowing with a soft, steady light.

[Connection established. Healing protocol initiated.]

Mr. Sterling let out a tired sigh, a sound of pure resignation. He looked at his son, then at me, as if we were a business problem he couldn' t solve.

"Fine," he said, the word dropping into the silence like a stone. "Let' s get the paperwork done."