Chapter 1
After being kidnapped and held captive for ten years, I finally came home.
My father said, "The cupboard's ready. You'll stay there for now."
My mother said, "Emily's health is fragile. Give her your room that faces the sun."
Emily Carter, the adopted daughter of the Carter family, was hiding by the stairs, smiling at me.
I smiled back and pulled out the kitchen knife I'd grabbed on my way out.
They didn't know. In the ten years I was gone, I didn't learn embroidery or piano.
I learned how to kill.
*****
When they found me, I was wearing a faded white T-shirt that cost twenty bucks from a discount store.
The driver who came to pick me up frowned. He didn't let me in the car. Instead, he threw me a set of clothes.
"Miss Carter, change into these. Your mother said not to dirty the seats," he said.
I put the clothes on right in front of him—over my old T-shirt.
His face got even worse.
When the car pulled up to the villa, I didn't rush to get out. Through the window, I saw three people standing in the yard.
A man in a suit. A woman dripping with jewelry. And between them, a girl in a white dress, hanging on the woman's arm and laughing.
That was Emily.
The one who'd lived my life for eighteen years.
I pushed the door open and got out. My mother's eyes swept over me, paused for a second, and then looked away.
"Why is she dressed like that?" she asked the driver.
The driver lowered his head. "Madam, I gave Miss Carter clothes—"
"Forget it." My father cut him off. "Come inside. It's hot out here."
He didn't look at me before he turned and walked in. My mother grabbed Emily's hand and followed. Neither of them waited.
I stood in the sun and counted seven seconds.
Seven seconds. No one looked back.
I followed them inside. At the door, a maid stopped me.
"Shoes." She pointed at my feet.
I was wearing cracked sneakers with mud on the soles.
"I don't have others," I said.
The maid pulled out a pair of pink slippers from a cabinet. They had cartoon bunnies on them. Kids' size. Two sizes too small.
I put them on. My toes were crushed.
The living room was huge. The chandelier was blinding. I sat in the corner on the softest couch. I sank into it like a beggar who'd wandered into the wrong house.
"The DNA results are in." My father, Richard Carter, finally spoke. "She's a Carter."
He said it flat, like he was closing a bad deal.
"Now that you're back, let's settle in." My mother, Grace Miller, took over. "Emily is three months younger than you. She's your little sister now. You two need to get along."
Emily immediately sat next to me and grabbed my hand. "Welcome home."
Her hand was soft. Her nails were rounded and painted pale pink. My hand was rough. My knuckles had calluses from excessive work.
She felt those calluses. Her smile froze for a second, but she recovered fast.
"You must have suffered all these years." Emily's eyes got red. "But now you have us. You'll never have to suffer again."
I pulled my hand back and wiped it on her sleeve.
"I don't suffer," I said. "I make other people suffer."
The room went cold.
Grace frowned. "What kind of way is that to talk?"
"The honest way," I said. "Back in the place I grew up, if someone messed with me, I hit back. If I couldn't win with my fists, I bit. If I couldn't win with biting, I used a brick. I never take a loss."
Richard put down his teacup. "That's crude."
"Yep," I said. "So you'd better not mess with me either."
He stared at me for a second, then laughed coldly. "This is your home. Who's going to mess with you?"
I didn't say anything.
They showed me soon enough.