Chapter 2

Can't you be more like her.

Every single person Vanessa ever won over said it to me eventually.

When I was nine, I fell off the orphanage's back steps and broke my leg.

Ms. Porter stood over me while I lay on the concrete, white with pain.

Her voice was flat.

"I give Vanessa a little extra attention, and suddenly you hurt yourself on purpose."

"Where did a child learn to be so manipulative? Why can't you be more like Vanessa?"

Ryan was the same.

After he met Vanessa, he started looking at me like a dress he regretted buying.

"You two grew up in the same orphanage," he'd say, and sigh. "How are you not even half as sharp as she is?"

Standing in that parking lot, watching my family's car pull away with Vanessa in the back seat, I was nine years old on those steps again.

Whatever warmth I'd let myself feel that night drained out through my feet.

The make-up gift came three days later.

An exhibition. Mine.

Mom held both my hands and looked at me like I was made of glass.

"We know how hard it was for you growing up. And you never stopped painting. Do you know how rare that is?"

"Today, everyone's going to find out about you."

"Your paintings, and you, are the most precious things we have."

"So we named the show TREASURE."

My eyes stung. They always did, way too easily.

I let myself wonder.

They were my family. My blood.

Maybe this time really would be different.

Then I turned around and saw Vanessa standing shoulder to shoulder with Kieran.

The hope went out like a match.

Kieran cleared his throat.

"Vanessa helped set everything up today. We owe her one."

A cold, heavy stone dropped into my stomach.

I walked fast into the gallery.

Then I stopped.

Mom came in behind me and gasped.

Every placard under every painting said the same name.

Not mine.

Vanessa Hale.

Dad's eyes flashed red.

"What the hell is this?"

Before Vanessa could open her mouth, one of the gallery staff rushed over.

"Sorry. Ms. Hale's work is very well known in the art world. When the booking came in, we just assumed the show was hers."

"Honestly, nobody's ever heard of an Ivy Sterling."

It landed like a slap.

Vanessa stepped in front of me. Her cheeks were already wet. Her eyes were laughing.

"Ivy, I'm so sorry."

"I'm an orphan. I've never had money, I've never had a show. I had no idea this would happen."

I was shaking so hard my teeth hurt.

I wanted to scream it at every person in that room.

She's lying.

She did it on purpose.

She'd been doing it my whole life. Every big moment I ever had, she found a way to make it hers.

I looked at my parents and my brother. Their faces were tight with anger.

All I needed was one of them to say it. That's not fair.

Kieran turned to Vanessa and gave her a soft, reassuring smile.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. Honestly, having your name on it does Ivy a favor."

I stopped waiting for anyone to say it.

"These are my paintings," I said. My voice cracked down the middle. "This is my show. Why should it have her name on it?"

Dad turned the glare on me.

"Vanessa's twice the painter you are. You want to switch the names back now and embarrass all of us?"

Mom stepped in to smooth things over.

She stood in front of Vanessa while she did it.

"Vanessa doesn't have parents who love her the way we love you. She has nobody. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It's one show. Don't be so petty."

Then she turned to the staff and told them to take my paintings down and hang Vanessa's instead.

Mine were too rough, she said. They'd hurt Vanessa's reputation.

The press arrived right on time.

So my family, with great reluctance, put Vanessa in the gown they'd bought for me.

She stood between my parents, in the spot that was supposed to be mine, and smiled for the cameras.

TREASURE still hung in huge silver letters across the main hall.

Under it, somebody had stuffed my paintings into a trash can.

I stood there a long time.

Then I took out my phone.

And booked a one-way flight for the next morning.