Chapter 1
I'd been wearing this woven bracelet for 19 years.
It was a three-dollar find at a flea market.
It'd gotten all frayed at the edges.
It felt tight around my wrist, almost digging in.
The man sitting across from me claimed to be my father.
The gleaming mansion behind him was supposed to be my new home.
"Felicity... Felicity Foster," said the man in the suit, Richard Foster, rubbing his hands nervously. "Your grandfather picked the name. It's a name that carries grace and strength. We've been looking for you for so long."
The woman next to him, Grace Foster, had perfectly done makeup, but her tears had started to smear her eyeliner. She reached out to hold my hand, then hesitated and pulled back.
"You've been through so much, dear," she said softly.
I didn't move.
My eyes landed on the plate of imported cherries sitting on the table—bright red, juicy, practically glowing.
They probably cost more than all the fruit I'd ever seen in my life.
"Evelyn... she's waiting inside," Richard said, his voice dropping. "She's your sister. Try to get along."
Oh, Evelyn Summers.
The one who'd lived my life in this palace for 19 years.
I gave a sarcastic smile.
My sister?
Sure.
The heavy carved door opened.
The light from the crystal chandelier was blinding.
The air smelled faintly sweet, like money.
Right in the middle of the living room stood a girl.
She wore a white dress, her long hair falling all the way to her waist. She stood tall and graceful, like a swan.
She turned around.
Her face was beautiful. The kind of perfect you only get from a lifetime of having everything.
Her eyes swept over me.
From my washed-out sneakers, up my ill-fitting old jeans, and finally stuck on the cheap bracelet around my wrist.
Just a hint of disdain flashed in her eyes.
Blink and you'd miss it.
It was replaced by a practiced smile, perfectly humble and apologetic.
"Felicity," Evelyn said softly as she walked over, her voice gentle. "You're finally home."
She reached out her hand.
Her nails were perfectly shaped, polished a soft, pale pink.
I didn't shake it.
I just looked down, pulled out the soggy half of a cold sandwich from my pocket, and took a deliberate bite.
The bread was stiff.
Chewing took work.
Evelyn's hand hung awkwardly in the air.
Richard and Grace exchanged awkward glances.
"Felicity, you must be starving." Grace jumped in to break the tension. "Evelyn had the kitchen prepare a big meal just for you..."
"No, thanks," I replied, swallowing the dry, pasty mouthful. "I'm full."
*****
The silence in the living room was so thick, the only sound was me chewing.
For the first time, Evelyn couldn't quite hold her smile together.
My new room was on the third floor.
It was huge.
One entire wall was just floor-to-ceiling windows.
The walk-in closet was overflowing with all the latest dresses, bags, and shoes—every trendy piece you could imagine.
Everything still had the tags on.
The vanity was cluttered with all sorts of bottles and jars, their labels in foreign languages that I couldn't even pronounce.
Grace followed me in, keeping a little distance.
"Felicity, is there anything you need? Just let me know, and I'll have someone get it for you," she said, her voice gentle.
I walked to the closet and shoved all those brand-new outfits to the side.
Just enough to make a little space.
Then I unzipped my beat-up canvas bag.
I pulled out a few T-shirts, worn soft from too many washes, and two pairs of jeans with fraying hems.
I hung them up.
"Nope, I'm good," I said.
Grace's eyes welled up again as she looked at my worn-out clothes.
"Okay, as long as you're comfortable," she said softly.
*****
Dinner was served.
The dining table stretched out, huge and imposing.
It could seat 20 people, easy.
But right now, there were just four of us at that endless table.
The polished silver cutlery and crystal glasses reflected the chandelier's light, creating a dizzying array of spots on the table.
Course after course came out, each one arranged like a piece of art.
Evelyn was eating her salad with a silver fork, taking tiny, elegant bites.
She looked like a picture of grace, straight out of a magazine.
Richard and Grace kept glancing over at me, their eyes expectant and a little anxious.
I speared a huge piece of roast beef with my fork and shoved it in.
I chewed loudly, my mouth open.
The sound filled the stiff, quiet room.
Evelyn's grip on her fork tightened.
She glanced up at me, unable to hide the disdain in her eyes.
"Felicity, maybe slow down a bit. We don't want you to choke," she said, her voice still gentle.
"Oh," I answered, grabbing an even bigger piece.
The gravy dripped onto the pristine white tablecloth, spreading into a small oily blot.
Richard cleared his throat.
Grace quickly called out, "Edith, could you get Felicity some dessert?"