Chapter 4

Three in the afternoon. The whole house is scrambling to get ready for the reception.

I'm sitting on my parents' living room couch. Already dressed. Already done with all of them.

My brother Jake yanks at his red bowtie, grinning at the hallway mirror.

"Willa hit the jackpot, huh? Grew up over there. Now she's marrying back in."

"Should've been me the hospital swapped. I'd make a hell of a rich kid."

"Shut your mouth," Mom snaps. "Polish your shoes."

I don't say anything.

Funny thing about Willa, though.

The other baby in that hospital swap? She got taken. Mistaken identity. An accident.

The day my mom gave birth to her, the second she heard it's a girl, she walked out of that hospital and left the baby on the bed.

Didn't even pay the bill.

She just never imagined the daughter she dumped would land at the Suttons'. Raised like a princess for twenty-three years.

When Willa first got "returned" to us, she cried every day.

One afternoon, when nobody was around, I sat her down.

"Listen to me. Blood doesn't mean love. They didn't want you the day you were born. A family like this — bloodsuckers — you're better off without them."

"You had an elite education at the Suttons'. You can stand on your own. Leave."

She nodded. Eyes red. I thought she heard me.

Then Sean was at my door. Face like a thundercloud.

"Willa says you told her to move out. She says you called her a burden. That you look down on her."

"Ally. Picking on her when she was my sister was one thing. Now she's your blood. You're really going to kick her while she's down?"

I just stared at him.

What he was saying had nothing to do with what I actually said.

But I wasn't surprised.

Because this kind of thing had happened a hundred times.

Back when she was still "Willa Sutton" — same exact game.

First time Sean took me to meet his parents, she sat next to me at dinner. Smiling. Piling food on my plate.

All shellfish. All peanuts. Everything she knew I was allergic to.

I didn't want to make a scene. I forced down a few bites. Left half a plate.

After dinner, I pulled her aside. Told her quietly — I'm allergic. I'm sorry.

She smiled. Said she understood.

Then she went and cried to Sean. Said I'd thrown out her food. Said I thought I was too good for it.

A few months later, the three of us went out to eat. She draped herself across Sean's arm. Begged him to peel her shrimp. Feed her like a baby.

The waitress smiled. "You two are such a cute couple."

I put down my fork. "They're siblings."

Next day Sean was at my door again.

"She cried for hours last night. You were so quick to shut that waitress down. Do you not like her?"

…

It went on like that for years.

I stopped explaining.

I just let my actions speak. Let him see it on his own — that I wasn't whatever villain his oversensitive sister kept painting me as.

And now — they aren't even brother and sister anymore.

And here comes the same interrogation again.

I wanted to explain.

But then I looked at his face — that "why are you like this again" look — and suddenly I didn't want to say a word.

Does he really not know what kind of people my parents are?

Does he really not know why I told Willa to leave?

He knows.

He just doesn't care.

He doesn't care what I think.

These past two years, I've seen Willa in a thin nightgown, curled up in bed with Sean, reading.

I've seen him hold her in his arms and wipe her tears.

Every time, I wanted to lose my mind.

Every time, I told myself: just wait. Wait until they're each married off. Then it'll be fine.

Then the night before the wedding, he sat me down and calmly asked if he could marry her instead.

That's when I finally got it.

It would never be fine. Not even after the wedding.

My hand drifts to my stomach.

This. This is the only person in the world whose heartbeat is mine.

I was hit, screamed at, starved growing up. I didn't have a choice.

This baby does.

I won't let it grow up the way I did. Picked over. Weighed. Ranked. Ready to be thrown out when something better comes along.

When it was just me, I could swallow anything. The bloodsucker family. The boyfriend with no boundaries. The fake sister-in-law gunning for me.

But not with this baby. Not anymore.

My phone buzzes.

Reminder: Your flight departs at 9:45 PM tonight.

I stand up. Reach for my bag.

Mom's face changes. "Where do you think you're going? I already told you — you're not coming to the reception."

I haven't even opened my mouth, and she's already writing the script.

"Can't even hold on to your own man, and now you want to crash your sister's wedding? Give it up. They were childhood sweethearts. Turns out they're not even blood-related. What part of that has anything to do with you?"

"I wasn't planning to go," I cut in.

She freezes.

She doesn't believe me. Stares at me for a long minute. Something weird flickers across her face.

"Huh. Sean was right about you after all."