Chapter 3

Later, Rosalind sank her claws into Hector's dad, Benjamin. After pushing Veronica—Hector's mom—out of the picture, she moved herself and twelve-year-old Tiffany into the Coxon Estate.

And just like that, Tiffany got a new shadow.

Hector, five years older, was fiery, and always treated her like his favorite chew toy.

When he was in a good mood, he'd buy her candy or take her to the amusement park.

When he wasn't—he'd shove her down the stairs, dunk her in the pool, or toss her outside in the dead of winter.

Once Tiffany grew into her looks, Hector started treating his "sister" a little too nicely.

And yeah—Tiffany caught feelings.

But two years ago, in the middle of the night, he pinned her to the bed—whispering Charlotte's name.

That's when it hit her.

She'd never been anything more than a stand-in.

***

Tiffany jolted awake.

White hospital ceiling. Blinding lights.

"You're awake."

Her whole body froze.

Charlotte was sitting right there beside the bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"You little tramp—always faking pain to seduce my man. You think I'd leave you here unsupervised?"

"You seriously have nothing better to do." Tiffany turned her head, done looking at her.

Silence.

Then Charlotte let out a soft laugh—and suddenly grabbed her hand.

Tiffany yanked back, startled.

Charlotte's eyes sparkled with fake tears. "I'm so sorry, Tiffany. I didn't know Hector locked you in the basement for me. I had no idea you'd get hurt that bad.

"You didn't mean to push me that day, right? I know you've got... issues. Probably just lost it for a sec. I don't blame you, really.

"It was Hector who went too far. But I talked to him—he won't do it again. Please forgive me, okay? I feel awful."

Tiffany couldn't take her two-faced act anymore.

She yanked her hand back. "Get off me. Don't touch me."

She barely touched her, but Charlotte went flying—screaming like she'd been punched—toppling to the floor with her chair.

"Tiffany, what are you doing?!"

Hector's voice, full of rage, exploded from the doorway.

He rushed in, scooped Charlotte into his arms, then spun and slapped Tiffany hard across the face.

"You've seriously lost it! Charlotte came here in good faith, trying to make peace, and you dare lay a hand on her?"

Blood filled Tiffany's mouth.

She clutched her swollen cheek, too stunned to speak.

Charlotte clung to Hector—limp, pitiful—whispering for him to calm down, even as her eyes gleamed with victory.

Tiffany knew she'd walked straight into her trap. Again.

A wave of helplessness crushed her.

One look at Hector's stormy face, and she didn't even bother explaining.

It all ended in silence.

Hector rushed Charlotte off to get checked out, terrified her little tumble had done real damage.

Tiffany just watched him go, the corner of her mouth curling into a bitter smile.

This was the guy she'd wasted her last life on—so obsessed, so blind, she'd thrown everything away for him.

That afternoon, she left the hospital alone.

Her college advisor had just dropped a notice in the student group: an overseas volunteer teaching gig in Zafaria. One year. Juniors and seniors only.

She needed this. Bad.