Chapter 2

Dinner started like any other night.

The dining table was so long that, from where I sat at the far end, I couldn't even smell the food.

Charlotte sat beside Mom, showing off her new pearl earrings, even with her eyes still puffy.

She passed me the fish and said softly, "You should have some more, Jo. I worry you don't eat well on your own."

"Charlie is so thoughtful," Mom chimed in immediately.

Mike set his fork down gently. "The apartment will be ready tomorrow, Jo. I'll have your boxes sent over."

"See that it's done right," Dad grunted.

I looked down, pushing the food around my plate. The pepper in the gravy was too strong, and it made my throat feel tight.

Suddenly, Charlotte pressed her hand to her chest. "I'm a little out of breath," she whispered.

Everyone at the table suddenly panicked.

Mom hurried to steady her, Mike got up to call the driver, and Dad frowned, telling the doctor to stay on call.

I was the only one still seated and watched as they all fussed over Charlotte, leading her upstairs. I'd seen this scene a hundred times before.

When the commotion finally faded, Mike turned back, his voice sharp. "Don't upset her."

I looked up, my voice flat. "Would I dare?"

Without another word, he turned and followed them upstairs.

As they turned the corner on the stairs, I heard Charlotte's soft, coquettish voice. "Mike, were you worried she'd figure it out just now?"

Mike's reply was so low that I barely caught it. "Don't worry. She won't become part of this family."

I set my fork down and got up to go to the bathroom.

The hallway was lined with portraits of the Sterling family's past leaders, their gilded frames watching me like a row of cold, unfeeling eyes.

I stopped at the door to Mike's study, which was left slightly ajar.

Inside, I could hear Mom's voice, low and trembling with tears. "Mike, isn't this a bit too much for her?"

Mike's voice stayed steady. "Mom, it won't take long. Better than letting Charlie break down forever."

Dad let out a sigh. "We're the ones who owe Charlie, ever since we brought her home."

Charlotte sobbed, "I never wanted to take her spot. I'm just scared you'll stop loving me if she comes back."

Mike's response was hushed but firm. "That won't happen. I control the Family Registry. Her name will only appear if I allow it."

Then it clicked. The green "Approved" notice wasn't a system error. He had revoked it himself.

I turned and climbed the stairs quietly, my steps careful, almost guilty, as if I'd taken something that wasn't mine.

But all I'd stolen was the truth they'd tried so hard to keep from me.

*****

I went back to the guest room and pulled open the drawer.

All I found inside was a spare key and a "Temporary Visitor" card.

Seven years ago, when Mike handed them to me, he had said, "Use these for now. Once the Family Registry approves you, I'll get your fingerprint registered."

I'd always thought "for now" was just a matter of time and paperwork.

But "for now" was really just his gentle way of saying "no."

My phone buzzed with a text from Ethan: [I'm at the station. Don't wait out in the rain at the entrance.]

I tossed the door card back into the drawer and grabbed my coat.

As I headed downstairs, the kitchen light was still on.

I stopped at the doorway and heard Mike inside, gently persuading Charlotte to take her meds.

He was so patient that it almost felt like I didn't even know him. "Don't worry. If she moves out and keeps her distance, those nightmares will stop haunting you."

Charlotte sniffled. "What if she tries to accuse me of stealing her spot?"

Mike let out a laugh, like he was amused by her childish worry. "What could she possibly do? She can't even set foot in this house."

The hot chocolate bubbled softly on the stove.

That sound took me back. It reminded me of the hearth in the orphanage during winter.

I was freezing back then, shivering until Ethan Woods pressed his gloves into my hands.

He was two years older, his face still marked with fresh training scars.

"Don't be scared," he told me. "The fire will chase the cold away."

Later, he joined the forest rescue team.

I went back with the Sterling family. I learned to stay quiet and keep my head down, surviving in a house that felt even colder than the orphanage ever was.

I walked to the entryway and paused for a final look. Inside, the light was warm and gold; outside, the night was cold and damp.

I pulled up my scarf, my fingers touching the wooden whistle hanging against my chest. Ethan gave it to me after his first mission.

"Whenever there's a wildfire, and everyone starts to panic," he had told me, "just blow this whistle. That way we'll find each other."

He was coughing hard that day, but he never stopped smiling. "Jo, if you ever hear that whistle, don't turn around. Just run toward the light."

Back then, I laughed, thinking he was being overly dramatic.

I get it now. Some people spent their whole lives teaching you how to live. Others just told you how to step aside.

The moment I opened the door, a gust of wind rushed in.

Mike's voice called out from the living room, "Jo, where are you going?"

I didn't look back. "Somewhere I'm allowed in."

No one came after me.

Only the click of the lock echoed behind me, like the house was sealing my fate.

I stepped out into the rain, for the first time without an umbrella. The rain fell on my lashes, like someone else was wiping away my tears.