Chapter 6

"Brother," I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. It was a plea.

"Don't call me that!" he snapped, his voice harsh. Something in the word had angered him.

He denied it. "Gigi has nothing to do with us."

"Then why?" I screamed, the question tearing from my throat. "Why does everyone choose her over me?"

Isiah gave me one last cold look. "Because she's more likable," he said, and walked away.

The words hung in the air, a final, brutal judgment.

I sank to my knees, my legs numb. Then a thought, a horrible, urgent thought, shot through me. The hair. Gigi's hair in the trash.

I scrambled up and ran to my bedroom, then ran back out, my heart pounding in my chest. I grabbed the arm of a passing maid.

"The trash! Did they take the trash from my room?"

The maid looked terrified. "Yes, Mrs. Arnold. The truck just left."

I ran. I ran out of the house, down the long driveway, chasing the sound of the departing truck. I screamed for it to stop, and to my surprise, it did.

I didn't hesitate. I jumped into the back and started digging, tearing through bags of filth and garbage, ignoring the stench and the disgust of the workers.

Two hours later, I found it. A small plastic baggie containing a few strands of dark hair.

I clutched it in my hand, my knuckles white. I carefully folded it and put it in my pocket.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Emit.

"What the hell are you doing, Doris?" he yelled. "The servants told me you're digging through the trash. Are you that desperate for money?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I lost my necklace," I lied, my voice shaking. "The one you gave me for my first birthday here. It's important to me."

There was a pause on the other end. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Let the servants do it. You don't need to get your hands dirty."

It was the first time I had ever lied to him. But I had to know the secret.

Later that day, after I had cleaned myself up, I stood in front of Everleigh's memorial portrait, which still hung in the main hall. I stood there for a long time.

A living person can never win against the dead.

The necklace was a lie. His first gift to me wasn't a necklace. He didn't even remember. He never really cared.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I was so tired of loving him.

The thought of leaving, once a distant fantasy, now felt like a real, tangible possibility.

Then the phone rang. It was the nanny from the main Arnold estate.

"Mrs. Arnold, the children are crying for you. They won't stop."

My mother hadn't brought them over as punishment for my fight with Gigi. But they still wanted me.

The thought of leaving vanished like smoke. I had my children. I couldn't abandon them.

I rushed to the Arnold estate, a sprawling mansion an hour away. The guards at the gate refused to let me in.

Ebenezer Clay, Emit's grandfather, despised me. He had forbidden me from setting foot on the property.

I stood outside the gates, screaming their names until my throat was raw. I stood there from afternoon until dusk, my hope dwindling with the fading light.

Finally, a side gate creaked open. It was my mother. For once, she looked pained.

"Come on," she whispered, pulling me inside. "They're in the playroom. Be quick, before the old man finds out."

A flicker of gratitude, as misplaced as it was, warmed my chest.

I ran to the playroom and swept my children into my arms, burying my face in their hair. "Mommy missed you so much."

I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I didn't notice how stiffly they held themselves.

My son was the first to push me away. "You're a bad woman!" he shouted, his small face twisted in a scowl I recognized from his grandfather.

I stared at him, stunned. The words, so full of hate, hit me harder than any slap. Without thinking, I raised my hand and smacked his cheek.