Chapter 2

Every day, I kept myself fit and practiced my art, counting down the days until university started—just so I could finally get out of the house.

This time, I was the one turning my back on them.

But life had other plans.

My brothers, Victor and Luke, came back.

They found out I'd taken one of Ada's plushies, and wasted no time coming after me.

They tore up my drawing paper, dumped my paints, and even destroyed the paintings I'd already finished.

When they saw me, there wasn't a trace of guilt on their faces. Instead, they shot me cold, judgmental glares, like I was a criminal.

My older brother, Victor scolded me, "Do you know it was Ada who stayed by Mom's side the whole time you were in the hospital? And now you're taking one of her plushies?"

My younger brother, Luke snorted, "If it weren't for Ada, our family would've fallen apart ages ago. Now that you're back, Ada's suffering—how is that fair? Maybe it'd be better if you never return."

I lifted my hand, and accidentally exposed the ugly scars I got from saving my parents.

I hadn't spoken yet.

Victor shot me a cold look and said, "Quit always bringing up what you did. It's sickening. People like you, always expecting us to be grateful, don't deserve to be alive."

Luke chimed in, "Yeah, Mom and Dad gave you life. Of course you should save them. Why are you acting all pitiful now? Guess we never realized how good you were at playing the victim."

"Victor, Luke, don't talk to Kaia like that. I'm really happy she's back. I'm not upset at all," Ada said, her eyes turning red as she ran over.

When she came near me, she suddenly tripped and fell.

Victor rushed to help Ada up, while Luke roughly shoved me straight into the rose bushes. "Why are you so vicious?" he snapped.

I stood up from the rose bushes, wincing as I pulled the thorns out of my hands. "Ada, did I take your plushie?"

Ada stared at me in terror, sobbing uncontrollably. "No..."

She kept insisting it wasn't me, but looked as though she was too scared to tell the truth.

"Forget it. I'll just ask Mom and Dad at dinner," I said. I couldn't be bothered to watch her act any longer.

Ada choked out, "I asked Mom and Dad to give it to you because I saw you liked it so much..."

"Then why are you crying like this? Are you trying to make everyone think I'm the bad guy so they'll all rush to defend you?" I shot back.

Ada simply continued to sob, either unable or unwilling to say anything back.

Victor gently wiped away her tears.

Luke shot me a furious glare. "What's your problem? You think you can just bully Ada right in front of us? Do you think we're blind?"

"Oh, please. She's everyone's precious little princess, You really think I have that kind of power? I'm all on my own here—how could I ever bully her?" I sneered.

Victor and Luke just stood there, stunned.

After all, they had once doted on me dearly.

After a moment, Luke muttered, still unwilling to let it go, "It's still your fault. If you'd just explained things earlier, we wouldn't have misunderstood."

But they hadn't given me a chance to explain.

I had just gone out for a walk, and when I got back, my drawing paper and paints were already ruined. I had no time to explain at all.

But I couldn't be bothered to say anything. It wouldn't have changed a thing.

*****

I spent the money I earned from my freelance art gigs to buy new drawing paper and paints, then threw myself back into practicing and honing my skills.

Art was my only ticket out of here.

I packed up my recent paintings, clutching them close as I went to see my teacher, Bethany Miller for some advice.

During my first year of high school, I took home the top prize at the International Art Competition, and that was when Bethany took me on as her student.

Bethany was a legend in the art world in the country.

After I died in my previous life, Bethany was devastated. Whenever she mentioned me, it was always with deep regret and pain.

When Ada took my artwork and entered it into the competition, Bethany recognized it instantly.

But with no evidence to back her up, she could only stand by helplessly as Ada kept rising higher, becoming the most gifted young artist of her generation.

"You're going to see Ms. Miller?" Sarah asked, stopping me at the door.

She added, "Why not take Ada with you? She's learning to paint too. Ms. Miller's really fond of you—maybe you could talk to her about taking Ada on as a student as well."

I looked at Sarah, who spoke like it was only natural. I couldn't tell if I should be moved by her motherly love for Ada, or shake my head at how clueless she was—always so sure of herself.

"Ms. Miller already told me she's not taking on anyone else. I'm just her student; I don't get to decide who she teaches," I replied.

I knew exactly what Sarah was up to.

She wanted Ada to get Bethany's stamp of approval.

That way, whenever someone doubted Ada's talent, she and Ada could just say, "Ms. Miller approved of Ada—who are you to question it?"

But there was no way I'd let Ada sully Bethany's eyes. And I sure as hell wouldn't let Ada drag Bethany's name through the mud.

Sarah just sneered and had the male servant step in front of me, blocking my way so I couldn't leave.