Chapter 3

The second the helicopter touches down, I see her.

Mia. Standing in the garden in a flowing dress, watching me with those big, pitying eyes. All fake.

A two-year-old boy crouches in the sandbox nearby, digging happily.

I grab Ethan's arm. My voice comes out shattered.

"The baby… I was one month on that island when I realized I was pregnant."

"Then one morning I woke up… and it was just gone."

If my baby had lived, he'd be the same age as that little boy.

The memory hits, and my knees almost buckle as tears spill down my face.

Those first six months after losing him, I was a walking corpse.

Ethan sighs. Like he's explaining something mildly inconvenient.

"The thing is, our son, Mia's and mine, got leukemia. We needed cord blood. So we had to take your baby early."

White-hot fury floods through me.

I stare at his face, searching for remorse. There's nothing. Just calm.

"Ethan. That was YOUR child too!"

Mia skips over and wraps herself around Ethan like a bird settling into its nest.

"Don't worry, sis." She tilts her chin up at me. "Once I get my award, I'll take you to visit the grave."

"And hey, if you help me win Best Director next time?" She smiles. Sweet as poison. "I'll let Ethan give you another baby."

Mom and Dad hold Mia's hands, beaming at her like she hung the moon.

"Oh, sweetie, you're just too kind."

"Ethan was always meant to be yours, your childhood sweetheart and your husband."

"Anyway, now that Claire's back, let's get those divorce papers done already!"

Ethan pulls out the divorce agreement and holds it in front of me.

"We both know you're obsessed with me. That you can't live without me."

"Mia said if you're willing to be my mistress, she'll let you stay."

Nausea slams into me so hard I almost gag.

I snatch the papers from his hand and sign without a second's hesitation.

"I don't want that. I just want my child's ashes. Give them to me and I'll go."

Ethan watches me sign, and something flickers across his face. Irritation.

Nathan grabs my arm and shoves me toward the house.

"Quit stalling. Get inside and get your makeup done. The shoot's waiting."

"If you mess up Mia's chances at that award, I swear to God, you'll regret it."

I'm pushed into what used to be my home.

Three years ago, every trace of me was already erased.

My bedroom is Mia's walk-in closet now.

The old oak tree outside my window was the one I used to talk to when I was a sick little girl. I called it my guardian tree.

Mia said it gave her nightmares, so they cut it down.

I sit in the makeup chair. One hour passes. No one comes.

Then a group of security guards bursts in.

No questions. Just fists.

“What the hell? Some homeless woman broke into the estate?”

“It’s the middle of winter. Why is she dressed like that?”

They rush in, grab me by the hair, and slam me to the ground. My head cracks against the corner of a table. Pain shoots through my skull and tears through my entire body. I can barely breathe.

“I’m this family’s daughter!” I scream.

They laugh.

“Cut the bullshit. This family has one daughter, and that’s Miss Mia!”

They kick me again and again. I try to explain, but no one listens.

Blood trickles from the corner of my mouth, slow and warm, dripping onto the cold floor.

By the time they drag me out like a dead dog, Mom and Dad finally appear.

"STOP! Who told you to touch her?!"

"Look at her face. She's bleeding from the mouth."

I lift my head. For one stupid second, hope swells in my chest.

Then Mom finishes her sentence.

"Her face is swollen! How is she supposed to stand next to Mia at the ceremony like this?"

"You want the press to make Mia look bad?!"