Chapter 1

"I'm not calling." I locked my phone and held it tight.

The laughter around the campfire stopped dead.

Our cousins, aunts, and uncles exchanged glances, and an awkward silence fell over the group.

Clara's smile froze. Her eyes filled with tears, and she bit her lower lip as though I'd done something terrible to her.

My mother's brows drew together. She stepped forward and clamped a hand around my wrist so hard it ached.

"Emma, what's with the attitude? We're all out here trying to have a good time, and you have to ruin it?

"It's just a dare! Your sister downed three shots without batting an eye. Now it's your turn, and you're acting like you're the victim?"

I looked up at my mother's accusing face.

When I was ten, I'd been too afraid of the dark to join a night hike at this very campsite. My mother had held me close while my father laughed and carried me on his shoulders. "We will always protect you. We'll never let anyone make you do something you don't want to do."

They had loved me once. Somewhere along the way, that love disappeared. Now, all they knew how to do was hurt me.

"It's a game, but Liam is my fiancé." I pulled my hand free, my voice calm. "I'm not going to turn my marriage into entertainment for everyone."

"That's enough!" My father slammed his beer can down on the wooden table.

He looked at me without a shred of warmth.

"You've been this selfish since you were a kid. Liam is the heir to the most powerful family on the East Coast. Do you really think you're the only woman he could marry?

"Clara just wants a chance to get to know him. She's your sister, not some stranger trying to steal your man. Is this really how we raised you?"

Clara tugged at Dad's sleeve, and her tears fell right on cue.

"Dad, forget it. Don't blame Emma. I'm the one who drew the card. I'll just take the penalty.

"Emma always thinks I'm trying to take what's hers. She still thinks I stole her chance to study in Paris."

Her words hit a nerve. My chest tightened.

I'd spent countless sleepless nights building my portfolio to earn a place at an art school in Paris. But all Clara had to do was say, "I want to paint by the Seine too," and Dad pulled strings until the recommendation went to her instead.

What did they say back then?

"You're the talented one. What's one more year to you? Clara doesn't have what you have. She needs this chance more than you do."

It was always the same. Every time, I was the one expected to give in, and they acted as if it were only natural.

I looked at their faces in the firelight and felt my anger drain away. I was too exhausted to fight.

"You're right. I'm a sore loser."

I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair.

"If you think she's better for him, then go ahead. Play your little game without me."

My father shouted after me, but I kept walking, following the dark path into the pines.

The damp Atlantic breeze carried the smell of salt. I pulled out my phone and texted Liam back.

"I'll be right there."