Chapter 3

"What's going on here?" he asked.

I parted my lips, desperate to explain.

But before I could say a single word, Lena grabbed hold of Alex's pant leg and tilted her face up at him, her expression unbearably pitiful. "Alex, am I nothing but a burden to the Sinclair family? Why does Claire hate me so much? She acts like she wants me dead..."

Without a moment's hesitation, Alex spun around and brought his palm down hard across my face.

The force of it whipped my head to the side.

Someone like me wasn't supposed to feel pain, and yet, somehow, this truly hurt.

Alex's breath caught for an instant, but his brow remained tightly knotted with anger. "Claire, you stabbed her? How could you take a knife to her like that?"

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face, and managed to choke out, "No, Alex... Please, you have to believe me."

For just a second, his expression seemed to soften.

Then Lena let out a terrible, keening wail. She dropped to the ground and crawled toward the blood-soaked puppy, gathering it into her arms.

"Claire, it's fine if you hate me," she sobbed, her voice thick with grief. "But how could you use this poor little life to get to me? You might as well have just killed me instead."

She wept as if she hadn't been the one to kill the dog herself.

Samuel and Lucas arrived too late, rushing through the door only to stop dead at what awaited them.

Samuel's gaze hardened as it landed on me. "Claire, I didn't think you had it in you to be this cruel. Wasn't that your favorite pet? How could you do something like that?"

His fist clenched with rage, but instead of striking me, he slammed it into the wall.

Lucas hurried back with the medicine and carefully dressed Lena's wounds.

Then he looked at me, and I saw disgust flicker across his face. "Is all of this just your way of trying to force Lena out?

"The rest of us have done right by you all these years, and Lena is our real sister. How could you treat her like this? Apologize to her. Right now!"

That was when the pain hit me, sharp and clear, right in the chest.

I thought back to when I was first brought home as the so-called real daughter. My adoptive parents, terrified of what people would say, suggested changing my last name to Sinclair.

Lucas was the first to speak up against it. He reached over and ruffled my hair, the way he always did when he was being sweet.

He said, "Why would we do that? Claire can stay an Anderson, and she'll still be the sister we love most. All I want is for her to be happy."

But that was a long time ago.

When it came down to blood, that name that never quite fit was always going to be a wall I could never cross.

Lucas seemed to realize he had gone too far, and he quietly dropped his head.

But he hadn't done anything wrong.

I pushed down the hurt and made my way to Lena in my wheelchair. "I'm sorry, Lena. Please forgive me."

Lena allowed herself a small, satisfied smile, and the others only seemed to withdraw further into their silence.

Then, without the slightest warning, I coughed up a mouthful of blood, and the muscles in my arm twisted even more violently than before.

Alex fumbled frantically through my medicine bag and pressed something between my lips.

"Claire, why aren't you taking your medicine? This is what keeps you alive!" For a man who had always carried himself with such impeccable composure, his voice came out raw and uncertain.

The moment they saw me swallow, the others finally let out a collective breath of relief.

What I had actually swallowed was a sweet, chewy piece of candy.

"Thank you, Alex," I said.

To keep Lena happy, I gave up my room to her and moved up to the attic.

I knew that people like me were never easy to simply discard, so I decided to do the hard part myself.

I stopped taking the medication I was supposed to take every single day, lying on the freezing wooden boards of the attic floor, waiting to die.

And then, without warning, a scream ripped through the house from downstairs.