Chapter 1

In my fifth year behind bars, my so-called "trade secrets" case was reopened and I walked out cleared of everything.

My brother, Eugene Calhoun, came to pick me up, eyes bloodshot, guilt written all over him.

I ignored him.

Back then, I'd stood in the snow, begging him to believe me just once.

He didn't. He chose his fiancée, Doris Eaton, the woman who set me up.

Now he stood before me, voice hoarse, asking me to come home.

I laughed. "Go home? Sure.

"Have Doris give me Grandma back alive first."

*****

The heavy iron gate of the prison boomed behind me.

It had been five years.

The cold outside was like a knife, cutting into my face.

I had only the thin jacket I was given me at release. I glanced up at the overcast sky.

A black Bentley was parked not far away, impossible to ignore.

Eugene was propped against the car door, wearing a pricey suit, his hair not a strand out of place.

But those red, tired eyes shattered his whole polished look.

When he saw me, he instantly straightened up and strode over.

"Iona..." Eugene said.

His voice was rough, with a faint tremor barely noticeable.

I didn't glance at him; instead, my gaze went right past Eugene, focusing on what was behind him.

The car window slid down halfway, and a perfectly made-up face appeared.

It was Doris.

Five years had gone by, but she still looked as soft and charming as ever. Time hadn't touched her face at all. If anything, it only made her seem more graceful and regal.

She was looking at me too, her eyes holding a hint of curiosity and caution.

I pulled the corner of my mouth into a smile.

Eugene followed my gaze and turned around, his face suddenly pale. It was like he'd been caught red-handed.

"Doris... she was worried, so she wanted to come with me to pick you up," he explained quickly.

He reached out, trying to take my arm.

I stepped back, pulling away from him.

His hand froze in mid-air, and all the color drained from his face.

"Iona, I messed up, I know. Please, come home with me. I'll make everything right for you, I promise..." Eugene pleaded.

"Make it up to me?" I finally spoke, my voice rough from seldom speaking.

I looked him dead in the eye, spelling it out for him. "I spent five years locked up and Grandma is gone. How are you going to make up for that?"

Eugene staggered, his lips quivering, unable to say a single word.

I didn't spare him another glance and walked straight across the street.

There was a bus stop across the street.

"Iona!" Eugene called out, chasing after me.

He caught my wrist, He holding on so tight, like he thought I might disappear if he let go.

"What do you want? Tell me. If it's in my power, I'll do it," he said.

"I don't want anything." I looked at him calmly. "I simply want to stay as far away from you and that fiancée of yours as possible."

"Are you still blaming Doris?" Eugene's brows knitted together, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

He said, "What happened back then was my fault. I didn't look into it properly. It had nothing to do with Doris. She's been blaming herself this whole time."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound sharp.

After everything, he was still sticking up for Doris.

"Nothing to do with her?" I scoffed.

I yanked my hand back and slowly pulled up the sleeve of my right arm.

On the inside of my wrist, an ugly scar stretched up my arm like a centipede.

"Thanks to her, I got this scar. Still think it has nothing to do with her?" I said.

It was left by the inmates who bullied me on my first year inside.

Doris was the one who paid the ringleader off.

Eugene's pupils contracted, his eyes glued to the scar like it had burned him.

"What... what happened here?" he stammered.

"Why don't you ask your precious fiancée?" I shot back.

I let my sleeve drop, shutting him out completely. He didn't have a chance to react.

"Eugene, I have nothing to do with you for a long time," I said. "The day you sent me to prison and robbed me of my last goodbye to Grandma, I lost her brother for good."

A bus groaned to a stop at the station.

I got on the bus without looking back.

Through the window, Eugene's figure shrank in the distance. He looked like he was shouting, but I couldn't hear a thing.

All I saw was the Bentley's door swing open, Doris stepping out with her usual grace. She steadied Eugene, who looked like he might collapse, then looked up and gave me a silent, provocative smile.

I turned away, expressionless.

The game was just starting.

I rented a one-bedroom apartment in an old apartment block downtown.

It was small, but it was filled with sunlight.