Chapter 2

Before my life was derailed, I had a future. I had been accepted into a prestigious art program, a scholarship that would have set me on the path I'd always dreamed of. But then Kelsey happened. The family needed money for her endless, and as I now suspected, often exaggerated, medical treatments. My scholarship fund, a trust left by my grandparents, was "borrowed" to help her. I was told I could reapply next year.

Then came the hit-and-run, and "next year" became seven years in a cell.

The email from the research institute was a ghost from that stolen future. It was a second chance I never thought I'd get. The kind guard, Officer Chen, must have pulled some strings, resubmitting my old application.

A follow-up message came through almost immediately. "Welcome aboard. Your relocation to Dominica is scheduled for three days from now. A car will pick you up at 10 PM. We will handle the rest."

Three days. I just had to survive three more days in this house.

I went downstairs for dinner. The dining room was set for a celebration. Balloons and flowers were everywhere. Kelsey was back from the hospital, looking perfectly healthy and radiant in a new designer dress. She was the center of attention, clinging to Don's arm like a trophy.

My parents and Joline fawned over her, ignoring me completely as I stood in the doorway. I was invisible.

Don finally noticed me. "Annamarie, come, join us. We're celebrating Kelsey's recovery."

His voice was strained. He was trying to pretend this was normal.

Kelsey pouted, her voice a sickly sweet whine. "Don, darling, I want you to peel a grape for me. My fingers are just too weak today."

It was a test, a deliberate act of provocation aimed at me.

I watched him, waiting to see what he would do. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then picked up a grape and began to peel it for her.

I turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" my mother snapped, her voice sharp. She switched to Spanish, a language they always used when they wanted to talk about me in front of me. "She has no manners. Ungrateful child. After everything we've done for her."

My father added, "She's probably jealous of Kelsey. She always has been."

I kept my face blank, pretending not to understand. They didn't know that I had spent my seven years in prison wisely. I had become fluent in Spanish, French, and Italian, thanks to the prison library and my fellow inmates. I understood every venomous word.

They thought I was the same weak, uneducated girl they had sent away. They had no idea who I had become.

I felt a cold resolve settle in my bones. I was done with them. I was done with this life of lies and manipulation.

I walked out of the dining room without a backward glance. I didn't go back to the dusty storage room. I walked out the front door and into the night.

As I walked down the long, manicured driveway, a thought struck me. Today was my birthday. They had forgotten. Again.