Chapter 2

I'm Chloe. Twenty-two years old.

My father David needed the 'Family of the Year' title. It secured his Senate backing. He adopted Mia through a high-end agency. A perfect PR puppet.

I refused their fake happy family game.

I became a liability.

Mia became their golden goose.

Mia. Even her name sounded sweet.

She was indeed a master of disguise.

Bottom-feeder survival instincts gave her a massive gift. Pleasing rich people.

Her arrival year, I was seven, she was six.

I stayed quiet. Her mouth dripped with honey.

She threw herself at Sarah. Called her "Mommy" in a soft sweet voice. Kissed David's cheek for the media cameras.

David and Sarah fell for it completely.

"Look at Mia. So lovable." Sarah brushed Mia's hair. Glared at me. "Learn from her. Stop giving us your cold, ungrateful face."

I stood in the shadows. Said nothing.

Over those years.

The rules of this rich suburban family turned into suffocating psychological abuse.

Not obvious physical abuse. A deep, bone-chilling infiltration.

Dinner.

Sarah roasted ribeye steaks.

Mia always cut the most tender piece first. I only got the leftovers.

No one made a rule. She was just fast.

I picked up my fork first.

Mia immediately dropped her plate. Sat in silence. Eyes red.

Sarah shot me a deadly glare.

I knew her look too well.

The meaning was clear. Chloe. Grow up. Mia suffered in the past. We need to be generous.

Shopping.

New season clothes.

Mia tried on three dresses at a boutique. Twirled in the mirror.

Sarah swiped her card for all of them.

My turn. I picked one.

Sarah glanced at the tag. "Too expensive. Let's go somewhere else."

Mia faked a sweet smile. "Chloe. Your cut doesn't suit you. The discount rack over there matches your skin tone better." She pointed at something half the price.

Sarah chimed in right away. "Mia always has better taste."

Endless bullshit like this.

Her manipulation blurred with my own paranoia.

One incident stuck with me forever.

My fifteenth birthday.

Sarah ordered a tiny cake. Barely enough for four people.

Time to blow out the candles. Sarah spoke coldly. Make a wish.

I closed my eyes.

I screamed in my head. I want a phone.

Back then. The cool girls at school all had iPhones. I still used a flip phone.

The next day. Sarah tossed me a phone. Cracked screen. Her old hand-me-down.

"Make do with it," she said coldly. "Don't take random photos at school."

I didn't argue. I took it.

The exact same week.

Mia walked in with two brand-new iPhone boxes.

David bought one. She claimed winning the other in a school charity raffle.

Two phones.

I got a piece of trash. She got two shiny new devices.

I went numb back then.

I thought this was just my fate.

Looking back now.

Every wish. Every double reward. Fifteen full years. Perfectly accurate.

Did Mia know this secret?

I had no proof. But I remembered a detail.

Birthday candles blown out. Mia whispered in my ear. Gleaming eyes.

"Chloe. What did you wish for?"

I told her. Saying it out loud ruins it.

She flashed her innocent sweet smile. "You have to tell me next time."

Next time. Every time. She probed.

I thought she was just gossiping before.

Now I finally understood.

She was inventorying her loot.

My phone screen stayed lit.

"Wishes remaining today: 1."

I didn't rush to make a wish.

I needed ironclad proof first.

I opened my Notes app. Created an encrypted spreadsheet.

My wish on the left. Blank space on the right for Mia's gain.

Row one: 500 dollars. Right column: 1,000 dollars. Designer jacket.

Perfect timeline match.

I needed more data.

I typed into the protocol box. "I wish someone sends me flowers tomorrow."

"Wish granted."

The next noon. A gallery fan sent me a bouquet of wild daisies. I snapped a photo.

Pushed the front door open that night.

Mia lounged by the pool in a bikini. Two massive bouquets of exaggerated Ecuadorian red roses right beside her.

Sarah walked by with champagne. "From Mia's suitors. A sweet girl like Mia never lacks boys chasing her."

Mia took a selfie. She caught me in her peripheral vision. Flashed a provocative smirk.

"Chloe. You got flowers too? What a coincidence."

I stared at her fake face. Stayed silent.

One bouquet versus two. What a coincidence.

Walked back to my studio. I typed in row two: 1 bouquet -> 2 bouquets.

Enough data.

Rule thoroughly confirmed.

I wish for X. Mia absolutely gets 2X. No exceptions.

I closed the Notes app.

I stared at the protocol's black-and-white text for a very long time.

Fifteen years. She leeched off me like a vampire.

Time to pay the bill.