Chapter 1

Archangel Michael once promised me that my new family would be wealthy and happy.

And they truly were—wealthy, comfortable, and happy. But none of that love belonged to me.

Every ounce of love in our house was given to my younger sister.

Mom claimed to keep things fair by using Tarot cards.

Lily was blessed with endless good luck. Whenever we drew cards to divide up love, attention, food, or toys, she always drew upright cards.

I only ever drew reversed cards. I only ever got whatever scraps were left over after Lily took her pick.

I protested once, but Mom snapped at me viciously.

"If you can't draw an upright card, blame your own bad luck!"

Then came my eleventh birthday. I wanted to go to the amusement park, but Lily wanted to go backstage at Dad's piano concert rehearsal.

Mom pulled out the Tarot deck once again to decide.

Desperate, I secretly taped a card onto the face of the one I meant to draw so it would turn up upright. Just this once. I just wanted to win once.

Mom caught me. She slapped me hard across the face.

She shoved me violently into the piano room and took Lily to the concert, telling me to stay put and reflect on what I'd done.

Neither of them noticed that my head had struck the sharp edge of the grand piano, and blood was pooling across the floor.

By the time I came to, my body felt weightless.

I tried to wipe the blood off the floor, but my fingers passed right through it.

It turned out I was dead.

When people die, the Archangel comes to take them home.

Grandma had told me that right before an angel took her away when I was little.

Back then, Grandma had gotten into a huge fight with Mom.

Grandma despised Mom's Tarot rule and chewed her out.

"Stop making excuses! You just favor Lily because she's pretty and has a talent for piano!"

"What about Hannah? Hannah is your child too!"

"I'm teaching them resilience," Mom sneered back. "I only draw cards because I don't want to play favorites. It's totally fair. Mind your own business."

"You are completely out of your mind!" Grandma's hands shook with rage.

That night, Grandma fell asleep in her bed and never woke up.

That evening, I saw Grandma standing behind Archangel Michael. She stroked my hair and whispered, "I have to go with the Archangel now, Hannah. Take care of yourself."

After Grandma was gone, Mom's Tarot obsession grew worse.

The cards decided everything in our house, right down to who got the chicken drumsticks at dinner.

Before every meal, we drew a card. Whenever I drew a reversed card, the table would be loaded with seafood, Lily's favorite.

Except I was severely allergic to seafood. I begged Mom to make just one dish I could eat.

I hadn't eaten a decent meal in three days.

Mom would only shrug with a cold, helpless look. "Rules are rules. Who told you to draw a reversed card?"

I had to survive the night on dry crusts of bread.

Even when I was burning up with a 103-degree fever, crying and begging to go to the hospital, Mom insisted we draw a card first.

When I drew a reversed card, she turned around, walked into Lily's bedroom, and read her a bedtime story.

"Hannah, my hands are tied."

My whole life was dictated by Tarot.

I never got to make a single choice for myself.

Now, I suddenly wished I could make just one decision.

I wanted to tell Mom that I wanted a coffin big enough for me to lie down flat.

I had never had my own bedroom or a real bed. I was always shoved into a tiny, cramped corner of the piano room.

As I was thinking, footsteps echoed from the hall.

My eyes lit up as the front door swung open. It was Mom.