Chapter 1

I spent ten years with my fake sister, Charlotte Price, and we were rivals every single day.

When I turned twenty-six, I finally moved out of the Price family, thinking I'd left all that drama behind for good.

But right before my wedding, I found out Charlotte was hooking up with my fiancé.

That day, I ran out of the hotel, completely broken, only to get hit and killed by a drunk driver.

Instead of fading away, my soul stuck around Charlotte, haunting her every move.

I couldn't figure out why she took care of my funeral and sat by my coffin for three days straight.

After that, she ruined my fiancé's business and made him kneel and beg for forgiveness at my grave.

On the twenty-first day after I died, my fiancé burned his house down and killed himself.

Not long after, Charlotte set up a charity fund in my name, then cut her wrists in a shabby orphanage.

I just couldn't figure it out. I thought that she hated me.

*****

Maybe it was because Charlotte was the last person I saw before I died, but somehow, my soul drifted back to her side.

At that moment, she was keeping vigil alone by my coffin, her eyes vacant as she stared at my portrait.

"Three days. It's been three days already! Aren't you tired of putting on this act?" I yelled at her.

But she didn't respond at all.

I had forgotten that I was dead. She couldn't hear a word I said.

I just plopped down next to her, feeling bored out of my mind, and stared at her pale, bloodless face.

When I was sixteen, my birth parents brought me back home from the orphanage.

By then, Charlotte was already living there. She was outstanding in every way, excelling at everything she did.

She was the biggest obstacle in my life. My parents kept saying she was the benchmark I had to chase after and eventually surpass.

But she grew up surrounded by our parents and became a proud girl who was always the center of attention.

I was just a wild weed growing in the dirt.

While she was savoring fancy cakes, I was down on the floor picking up the food other kids had knocked over.

When she was shining under the spotlight at piano and dance competitions, I was stuck cleaning orphanage bathrooms in the cold, pale moonlight.

Just making it through each day, staying healthy, and not going off the rails was all I could hope for.

Our lives started on totally different tracks. I didn't think I could compete with her.

But my parents still pinned all their hopes on me, always expecting me to catch up to her, or even surpass her.

Every time I came up short against her, I'd get punished, left hungry, locked in my room, and made to write pages of apologies.

I thought finding my family would finally get me out of the orphanage nightmare, but it turned out I'd just traded one hell for an even scarier one.

Charlotte was basically the spy my parents planted beside me, always keeping tabs on everything I did.

If I ever slacked off and skipped piano practice, my parents would call me up instantly to make sure I played that day's song, or else they'd pile on twice as much homework.

If I sneaked a few extra bites of my favorite snacks, they'd show up in a flash, snatch them away, and toss them out right in front of me.

If I hung out with friends after school, my parents would drag me back, make me stay in my room, and reflect on my mistakes. After that, my friends started avoiding me like the plague.

When it came to Charlotte, my feelings were a tangled mess, including jealousy, resentment, and even fear.

But whatever it was, it was never kinship.

I couldn't make sense of what she'd been doing these past three days, and honestly, I didn't give a damn.

I tried to leave, thinking out of sight, out of mind, but no matter how far I drifted from her, I always got yanked right back.

It was like there was an invisible chain tying me to her, keeping me stuck by her side.

I had no choice but to stay put, watching her put on this act for three days straight.

I let out a long sigh and wondered when this mess would finally be over. I couldn't even catch a break after I was dead.

Suddenly, Charlotte's phone rang. The moment she finished the phone call, it was like she'd flipped a switch. The gloom was gone, and her eyes burned with a sharp, almost predatory intensity.

I saw the caller ID flash across the screen. It was Jonathan Foster, my fiancé.