Chapter 4

Mom's voice turned syrupy. "Not like Amelia—she's gorgeous and so well-behaved."

Dad sighed. "It'll be fine once she graduates. If Amelia gets into Harven University and things click with the Ashford heir..."

Harven. One of the top schools.

Julian Ashford had just gotten in this year. They wanted Amelia trailing after him, banking on proximity magic.

The Ashfords—owners of the Ashbourne Group—were the kind of dynasty that arranged marriages. The snag? Julian's mom, famous for being a snob about academics. She'd flat-out said only Ivy League girls deserved her son. So, with a Harven acceptance, Amelia had a shot.

So that was it. They didn't dismiss me just for being plain. I wasn't loved because I wasn't pretty? My pale face came from years of skipping meals, my weak body from taking care of them.

Even the scar Mom hated looking at—she gave me that. Poured boiling water on me when I was little. Thinking back, that's about when their "love" started disappearing.

The scar's barely noticeable now. Time blurred it, and I keep it hidden under clothes and loose hair. No classmate has ever caught on.

They'd written me off, but still wanted my scores. Life doesn't work that way.

***

The next morning, we sat down for breakfast.

Dad pushed back his chair. "Evelyn's not dropping out. From now on, Amelia will bring her food. And Evelyn—money's tight. Go through Amelia's closet and grab whatever you like."

Amelia's eyes went wide. "Dad, Mom! Are you serious?!"

Yeah, she hadn't been warned.

That's when it clicked. They didn't love anyone—just whoever could give them something.

So, Amelia... get ready. Hell's about to knock back.

Dad and Mom brushed her off. She had no choice but to haul food to me every day, just like I used to for her.

Not too early—couldn't cut into my tutoring. Not too late—couldn't ruin my nap.

For clothes, I picked the thickest jackets, the warmest layers.

She tried whining, but Mom, for once, shut her down. My grades came first.

The autumn wind bit hard. Amelia, always dressing light for looks, had to shiver outside my classroom, waiting.

All for my grades. She just had to grit her teeth and take it. More than once, I caught my parents whispering, "Once Evelyn's SATs are over, everything of hers will be yours—her future, her man. Then your good days start."

Then came the next mock exam. I didn't hold back this time—scored a 1536.

Mom and Dad were over the moon. Amelia beamed like she'd earned it herself.

In their eyes, she had.

With my score back up, they started hinting again about me helping Amelia cheat.

This time, I didn't say no.

Perfect. The higher she climbs, the harder the crash. Amelia, it won't be long before they drop you too.