Chapter 1

I died on my twenty-fifth birthday.

By the time the police pulled me out of the icy river, my mother was strolling through an upscale mall with my sister, shopping for her birthday gift. "Andrew, look at this dress. It really makes Emmy's skin glow."

The phone rang for ages before my mother finally answered, sounding annoyed. "What now, Charlotte? It's Emmy's birthday. Don't you dare start any drama today."

The cop's voice was all official. "Is this Charlotte Lane's family? Something happened to her. Please come down to the station."

My mother froze, then let out a shriek. "What could possibly happen to her? She probably got into another fight and got herself arrested. Officer, just keep her locked up for a few days. Maybe that'll knock some sense into her. She can't go a day without stirring the pot."

With that, she hung up, as if listening for even one more second was too much to bear.

*****

I hovered above, watching as my mother excitedly helped Emily try on a pricey diamond necklace. She said, "Emmy, this necklace looks perfect on you. Andrew got it for you as a birthday present. Do you like it?"

Emily beamed and leaned against my so-called fiancé, Andrew Carter. "Thank you, Andrew. I love it."

Andrew tapped her nose, all gentle and doting. "Good that you love it."

What they didn't know was that I'd spent countless nights working on that necklace, using the prize money from my very first design award. It was a unique piece I'd planned to give my mother for her fiftieth birthday.

But Emily stole my design, sold it to Andrew, so she could win favor with Andrew and my mother.

Just like my whole life—stolen by her, trampled by her.

I had always been the family troublemaker. Growing up, the moment Emily cried, I was the one who got blamed.

If she fell, I had pushed her. If she failed a test, I had distracted her. If she dated some delinquent, I had led her astray.

My parents never hesitated to jab a finger at me and shout, "Charlotte, why can't you learn from Emily and behave for once? Why are you so vicious?"

Even my fiancé, Andrew, would frown and say, "Charlie, stop picking on Emmy. She's your sister."

I tried to explain. I tried to fight back. Every time, all I got was harsher punishment and deeper disappointment.

They locked me outside in a storm and left me standing there all night. They tore up my college acceptance letter and forced me to drop out so I could work and pay for Emily's fancy private school.

"You're the older sister," they said. "It's your job to give way."

It wasn't until the day I died that I finally understood—they weren't just playing favorites. They simply never loved me.

*****

My soul trailed after them all the way home. The police called again. This time, my father picked up.

"What? Dead? How is that possible?" His voice was shaking.

My mother rushed over and snatched the phone, her face drained of color. "Officer, you must be mistaken. Charlotte... She just loves stirring up trouble. She couldn't possibly be dead..."

There was a long pause on the other end, then the officer coldly told them to come to the morgue to identify the body.

The living room fell into a silence so heavy it felt suffocating.

Emily was the first to react. She threw herself into my mother's arms, crying her heart out. "Mom, how could Charlotte be dead? She must be messing with us again. She's trying to scare us so we'll give in, right?"

My mother clung to her as if Emily were the only thing she had left to hold on to. I saw the spark of fury flare back to life in her eyes. "Right, that has to be it. That wretched girl is just trying to scare us so she doesn't have to apologize to Mr. Thompson. Come on, let's drag her back home. I'll break her legs myself."

I watched them, and all I felt was a deep, bottomless sorrow.

The "Mr. Thompson" they were talking about was some greasy old creep in his fifties. My father had pushed me to have dinner with him for a business deal.

At the dinner, Jack Thompson started getting handsy, his hand sliding up my thigh. Without thinking, I smashed a wine bottle over his head.

When I got home, my father slapped me hard across the face. He called me a curse on the family and said I had ruined his deal.

He ordered me to apologize to Jack the next day.

I refused. And then I ended up dead in the river not far from home.

They figured I was just pulling another one of my stunts.

They would never understand—this time, I was truly never coming back.