Chapter 3

Did they even remember?

Did any of those promises mean anything at all?

I turned to leave. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with them, with their suffocating, false affection for her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jackson' s hand clamped down on my arm, his fingers digging into my skin.

"I told you to apologize."

His eyes were cold, filled with a sharp, cutting anger I had only seen directed at business rivals.

Never at me. Not until now.

A wave of nausea washed over me.

I remembered another time he had grabbed my arm like this. It was after I had accidentally spilled coffee on one of Keira' s textbooks. She had cried, and he had forced me to my knees to apologize, to beg for her forgiveness in front of the entire household staff.

The memory, the humiliation, burned in my gut.

I was tired of it. So tired of being their pawn.

"Let them have each other," a cold voice whispered in my head. "Let them have everything."

With a strength I didn't know I possessed, I ripped my arm from his grasp.

"I said no."

Jackson's hand was left hanging in the air. His face was a mask of disbelief.

I had never pulled away from him before. I had always melted into his touch, craved his attention.

His expression darkened.

"Have we been too easy on you, Brooklyn?" he said, his voice dangerously low. "Is that the problem?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Too easy on me? No, Jackson. I think I've been too easy on all of you."

Ever since Keira had arrived, it was like a switch had been flipped.

The little attentions, the casual affections, the inside jokes-they all flowed to her now.

I was left with the scraps.

In my first life, I had tried so desperately to win them back. I had swallowed every insult, ignored every slight, endured every humiliation.

I had fought for a love that was never really mine.

And it got me killed. Burned alive in a fire they set themselves.

The memory of the searing pain, of my skin melting, flashed through my mind.

"You're just a spoiled brat," Jackson snarled, his face twisting with rage. "You're our adopted sister. We gave you everything. A home, a life you could never have dreamed of."

He took another step, cornering me against the wall.

"You have no right to anything. You should be grateful we even consider you. The will says you have to marry one of us. You should be down on your knees, begging me to choose you."

He was practically spitting the words at me.

"No," I said again, my voice shaking but firm. "I won't."

Keira chose that moment to play her part. She tugged on Brett's sleeve, her eyes wide with fake distress.

"Maybe... maybe I should just go," she whispered.

"No, you're not going anywhere!" the three of them said in near unison, turning to comfort her.

It was a well-rehearsed play.

"We love you, Keira," Brett said softly, stroking her hair. The words were meant for her, but they were a knife in my heart.

They tried to explain. They tried to tell me that their feelings for Keira were different, that she was just a friend they were helping.

Lies.

A coldness spread through me, so profound it was almost peaceful. I was finally, truly done.

Suddenly, there was a loud groaning sound from above. My head snapped up, the memory of the flickering light and the housekeeper's warning flashing in my mind. The massive crystal chandelier in the foyer was swaying violently. A thick cloud of dust fell from the ceiling fixture.

"KEIRA!" all three brothers screamed at once.

They lunged for her, creating a human wall between her and the danger, blocking my path to safety.

I was trapped.

The last thing I saw was the chandelier breaking free, plummeting towards me.

Then, a universe of pain. A sharp, cracking sensation in my side.

My vision blurred. I struggled to look up, my head lolling to the side.

Through a haze of agony, I saw them.

They were huddled around Keira, who was perfectly fine, not a scratch on her.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Jackson was asking, his hands frantically checking her over.

Keira shook her head, her eyes wide. Then her gaze flickered over to me, lying broken on the floor.

It was only then that they seemed to remember I existed.

They rushed over, their faces a confusing mix of alarm and annoyance.

"Brooklyn? God, we're sorry," Brett said, kneeling beside me. "We thought it was... we got you mixed up."

They had gotten me mixed up.

I was just collateral damage in their obsession with her.

I, who had been their sun, their moon, their stars.

I started to laugh, a wet, gurgling sound that sent a fresh wave of agony through my chest. My ribs felt like they were on fire.

Tears of pain and rage pricked my eyes. I couldn't get up. I couldn't even breathe properly.

The world started to go dark at the edges.

I blacked out.

The last thing I saw was Jackson' s face, his brow furrowed, a strange, unreadable expression in his eyes.

The last thing I heard was his voice, calling my name in a panic that sounded almost real.

"Brooklyn!"