Chapter 2

"Vivian." Lilian turned around and took my face in her hands. "I know you've been hurt. You've always put me first, ever since we were little. But this time it's different. This is about the rest of my life.

"Can you help me, please? Once things are settled with Henry, I'll come back. Whatever you want, it's yours."

Her eyes were so honest, so convincing, I almost believed her. But deep down, I knew this "after" she promised would never arrive.

When she returned, I'd still be Vivian, and she'd still be Lilian. She'd still be the sister everyone adored, and I'd still be the one in the shadows. Nothing would ever really change.

But I still nodded. Because she was my sister. And ever since I was little, I had never learned how to say no to her.

The next evening, Lilian finished packing her bags and was ready to leave.

She stood at the doorway and turned to look at me.

The setting sun poured a gentle golden light over her, making her look like a dream. Beautiful. Unreal.

I stood in the entryway, not stepping outside.

"I wrote down all of Ethan's routines," Lilian said. "It's by your bed. Everything. What he likes to eat, what he doesn't, when he gets home, what kind of clothes he likes..."

"Don't," I interrupted her.

She paused, then gave a strained smile. "Okay, I won't say anymore."

She walked over and hugged me. "Vivian, thank you."

The scent of the perfume she always wore still lingered on her. It was sweet, with a touch of orange blossom.

It was her favorite scent. She said it reminded her of her first love.

As I breathed in that fragrance, I suddenly wanted to ask her, "Lilian, wasn't Henry your first love? Then what's with this perfume?" But I didn't.

Lilian turned and walked away, her suitcase wheels rumbling across the floor. The sound faded until it died away at the end of the hallway.

I stood at the doorway, watching her silhouette shrink, fading into the orange light of the sunset.

She didn't look back.

That night, Ethan came home late.

I sat at the vanity, filling in my brows in the mirror, over and over.

Lilian's brows were a little more arched; she liked to lift the tails a bit, which made her look sharper. Mine were straighter, plainer by comparison.

I kept drawing and wiping, wiping and drawing, over and over again.

My hands shook so much that the lines came out crooked and messy. No matter how hard I tried, they never looked like hers.

Actually, there was no point. Ethan had never seen me before.

All he knew was that the Sterling family had two daughters: Lilian and Vivian.

To him, I was just a name, a symbol, nothing more than an accessory to Lilian. He wouldn't notice.

But my hands kept trembling.

I was putting on lipstick when I heard footsteps outside the door.

The steps were unhurried. Each tap of his leather shoes on the floor felt like a blow to my chest.

The doorknob turned.

I put the lipstick down, stood up, took a deep breath, and turned around, then froze.

I'd seen Ethan's photo before. Lilian had shown me, telling me he was the man she was going to marry.

In the photo, he wore a suit at some gala, strikingly handsome but cold, distant, like a statue perfectly carved. He was gorgeous, but there was no warmth.

I thought that was all there was to him.

But the photo never prepared me for those eyes.