Chapter 2

"I didn't mean to, Mother." I dropped my eyes, pitched my voice loud enough for the vultures circling nearby to hear. "You raised your hand so suddenly. It scared me. I lost my balance."

The whispers started immediately. Eyes slid toward Linda, weighing, judging.

Nothing killed a reputation faster than nearly slapping her own daughter in front of three hundred witnesses.

My mother's face cycled through about fifty shades of red before settling on something close to ash.

My father, Richard Carter, materialized with his usual stern expression, draping his jacket over her shoulders. He shot me a look weighted with disappointment, the kind that somehow hurt worse than anger.

"Enough, Sophia. Go to your room. Stop making a scene. You're embarrassing all of us."

Of course. Same script, different night. Nobody asked what actually happened. Nobody cared. Just blamed Sophia and moved on.

Embarrassment? Yeah, that was me. The daughter you dragged back from nowhere. How could I ever compete with Emily, the one you spent seventeen years molding into the perfect Carter princess?

My existence was the embarrassment.

I turned and walked. Didn't look back.

Andrew caught my wrist as I passed. "Sophia. Wait. Let's talk."

I wrenched free so hard that he stumbled.

"Get lost," I said.

His expression darkened instantly.

I didn't look back at him. I walked through the crowd and headed upstairs.

Behind me, Emily's theatrical sobs carried across the room.

"Dad. Mom. Andrew. This is all my fault. I'm the one to blame... If it weren't for me, Sophia wouldn't be so upset."

And then the chorus kicked in. Comforting her. Coddling her.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart."

"She's impossible, don't even worry about her."

"Don't cry, Emily. You know I can't stand seeing you upset."

I kept climbing the stairs, leaving their voices behind.

In my room, though it never really felt like mine, I locked the door, pressed my back against it, and slid down to the cold hardwood floor.

'Detected: Host's will to live has reached zero. Emotional bonds are approaching critical failure. Will you trade all connections to this world for a chance at something new?'

The voice again. Cold. Hollow. As if it came from somewhere deep and dark.

"Trade everything?" My voice cracked on the last syllable.

'Affirmative. You will exit spectacularly, severing every tie completely. Your death will become an inescapable nightmare for those left behind. In exchange, your soul will find peace in an entirely new existence.'

A spectacular death. One they'd carry forever.

I started laughing. Then crying. Then both at once.

"Yes," I whispered. "God, yes."

*****

The system had no body, just that cold digital presence hovering at the edge of my consciousness.

'Deal confirmed. Objective: Engineer a public, violent death that delivers final judgment to the Carter family. Mission completion determines your starting power in the new world.'

'Countdown initiated: 7 days.'

I wiped my face and pushed myself up.

The mirror showed me someone I barely recognized, pale, hollow-eyed, looking more corpse than girl.

Seven parts my father, three parts my mother. One couldn't look at me and deny the biology.

But they refused to see it. All they cared about was Emily, the girl with no real connection to them, but always flashing that perfect smile.

Judgment. I liked that word.

I crossed to my desk and pulled open the drawer. Inside sat a velvet box, old and worn at the edges.

I opened it to find a gold bracelet with emeralds.

My grandmother pressed this into my palm the day I came back to the Carters. "The Carter wives have passed this down for generations," she said. "Now it's yours."

After she died, my mother started circling. First hints, then demands. "That bracelet belonged to Emily," she said. "What did a wild child from the countryside know about heirlooms?"

I never gave it up. It was the only thing my grandmother left me. The only proof I ever had that I might actually belong here.

Now even that hope was ash.

I grabbed my phone and dialed.

"Mr. Williams? It's Sophia Bennett." My voice sounded calm. "I have something I'd like you to appraise. And possibly help me sell."

Bob Williams ran the nicest antique shop on the row. He'd been my grandmother's friend for years.