Chapter 2

"I'm not making it. I have a fever," I said.

Charles ran out of patience. "Stop it. Hiding under the covers and playing sick. Is that funny to you?

"You put her through three years overseas with nowhere to land. Is there not one piece of guilt in you?" Every word came out heavier than the last.

His words landed like a punch, and my throat burned so much I could barely speak. "You said you believed me. I didn't do anything."

"If you didn't push her, why are you too guilty to face her or make her a bowl of soup?"

Charles' face went dark, and he took me by the collar and dragged me to the kitchen. My head spun, and I went hard into the cabinet.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily settled on the couch with Charles warming her hands in his, and the scarf I had knitted for him stitch by stitch was wrapped around her feet.

So Emily was the one he made an exception for, and the germ thing was for me alone.

It was a bowl of soup. The Shaw family had fed me for a few years, and cooking it for her would settle that account.

I didn't go back to the Shaw family until Grandma died, when I was in high school.

My mother had me for Emily. Emily was sick, and they needed cord blood to save her, so they had me.

Once Emily was well, they handed me off to Grandma, who raised me alone. When Grandma died, the last person who loved me was gone.

Back in the Shaw Manor, Emily treated me as an enemy. She framed me for taking her things and told them I hit her, and they believed her every time, so I went hungry as punishment and carried bruises.

Through those years, Charles was the only light I had. He and Emily grew up together, but he never helped her go after me, and he was quietly good to me instead.

So I fell in love with him, and while the two families were settling the marriage, Emily found my diary.

She put the diary next to the note, and they had me convicted without a second thought.

With Emily back, three people in one life was always going to be one too many.

Grandma had it right. I could only count on myself.

I had promised Grandma. I would live well, and I was going to the house that had been hers and mine and start over.

In three days, on the wedding day, the prenuptial agreement Charles and I had signed would run out. If we didn't renew it, the marriage was finished.

Once the soup was done, Charles ladled a small bowl and blew on every spoonful before he fed her.

"Come on, open up, Emily."

His voice was soft enough to run, as though he were taking care of a child.

He had never spoken to me that way or taken care of me. The time I drank for his project until my stomach bled and I landed in the hospital, all he did was send his assistant with food.

Emily took my hand. "Anna, you're young. I don't hold anything against you. Let's be good sisters from now on."

She smiled at me, and my back went cold because her eyes were as flat as a snake's on something it was going to eat.

Then she turned to Charles and made her voice sweet. "Charles, I want strawberries."

Charles hated being ordered around. The times I said I wanted grapes, he looked at me with nothing on his face and said, "Are your legs broken? Do you not have hands?"

But he smiled and put a hand on Emily's head. "I'll go get them now."

What I couldn't do in three years, Emily did without trying.

The second Charles was out the door, Emily dropped the act.