Chapter 1

"Witch! Look at her weird eyes!"

The shouts rang across the rain-swept yard of St. Therese Orphanage. Fourteen-year-old Olivia quickened her steps and pretended not to hear a word.

"Freak with the devil's eyes!" Asher, the oldest boy, yelled from behind her. He was sixteen and mean as an ogre; teasing her was his favorite pastime.

Olivia kept her head down, watching her worn-out shoes make tracks in the mud, one foot after another. Just make it to the building. Just make it inside, she repeated the words in her head like a mantra.

But she wasn't fast enough.

A hard shove sent her face-first into a dirty puddle. Water and mud filled her nose and mouth. The children laughed; not a single one offered help.

"Show us your witch eyes!" Sarah screamed. She used to be Olivia's roommate until she told Sister Anne that she was scared Olivia would curse her in her sleep, so she was transferred to another room.

Olivia lifted her face from the ground, but Asher pushed her back with his knees. Her back hurt like hell, but she couldn't move an inch.

She cursed her eyes for how they looked. Her eyes had two different colors, one blue and one green. It made her stand out, made the other children single her out and torment her endlessly.

"Maybe if we wash her face enough, we can cure her!" Sarah suggested. Hands grabbed Olivia's head, and they dunked her face deeper into the dirty puddle. They held her under until her lungs burned. Just when she thought she would die, they yanked her head up.

Olivia coughed while gasping for air.

"Again!" someone shouted. But before they could push her down, a sharp voice cut through the chaos.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

The hands holding Olivia disappeared instantly. She heard feet scrambling away, leaving her alone in the mud.

"She fell, Sister Anne!" Asher was the one who spoke. "We were just trying to help her up," he added, and every kid present agreed with him.

Olivia stayed on her hands and knees, water dripping from her hair and nose. She didn't have to look up to see the disdain in Sister Anne's eyes. She could feel it piercing her skin.

"Is this true, Olivia?"

Her fingers dug into the mud. What was the point of telling her now? Sister Anne never believed her anyway. "Yes, Sister," she whispered. "I fell."

"Then what are you waiting for? Get up! We have the Hilton family visiting us! They're our most generous benefactors, and I expect you to be presentable when they arrive."

Olivia felt a rush of shame. She slowly pushed herself off the ground. Everything hurt, her back where Asher had pinned her, her chest from fighting for air, her heart from the familiar ache of being so alone.

Sister Anne's footsteps fade away. She heard Asher and Sarah laughing at her before they followed suit.

Rain began to pour from the sky. Olivia looked up. At least no one could tell she was crying.

—

In the small room she shared with four other kids, Olivia peeled off her mud-soaked dress. Her reflection in the small mirror showed angry red marks on her back where Asher had pinned her down. They would turn into bruises by morning.

She pulled on her only other dress, a plain pink one with a white patch on the elbow. It wasn't nice enough for meeting important visitors, but it was all she had.

The brass bell rang, making her jump. Everyone would be gathering in the main hall to meet the Hiltons.

She reached for the door handle. It refused to open.

"No, no, no..." She rattled it harder, panic rising in her chest. Someone had locked her in. Probably Sarah. Or Asher. It was always one of them.

Olivia could hear footsteps in the hallway. "Hello?" She knocked on the door. "Please, someone let me out!"

Nobody answered.

Minutes felt like hours. When she finally heard footsteps again, the door flew open. Sister Anne towered over her, her lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"I was locked in," Olivia stammered. "Someone—"

"Enough excuses!" Sister Anne grabbed her arm, fingers digging in like claws. "Always causing me trouble!"

Sister Anne dragged her down the stairs, through the hallway, into the bright dining hall where everyone waited.

Mr. Hilton froze the moment his eyes landed on Olivia, while Mrs. Hilton's hand flew to cover her mouth. “Honey, she looks like Caroline,” Mrs. Hilton mumbled under her breath.

Sister Anne cleared her throat. "Mrs. Hilton, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I will help you select a child to adopt. We have many wonderful children here. Sarah, for example, is very pretty and the top of her class—"

"We'll take her," Mrs. Hilton said, pointing at Olivia.

Sister Anne couldn't contain her surprise. Her hand cradled her head as though she’s having a headache. "Olivia is... is a difficult child. Troublesome. Surely you'd prefer—"

"We've made our decision." Mr. Hilton's deep voice left no room for argument. "We'll take her. Please prepare the paperwork right away, Sister Anne. She's coming with us today."

Olivia stood frozen. This couldn't be real. Things like this didn't happen to her. Good things didn't happen to the girl with what the kids in the orphanage called ‘the girl with witch eyes.' But Mrs. Hilton was smiling at her, eyes brimming with tears. And for the first time in forever, someone was looking straight into Olivia's strange eyes without flinching away.

"Would you like to come home with us?" Mrs. Hilton asked gently.

Olivia couldn't speak. She could only nod.

Behind her, she could feel Sarah's eyes slicing through her like a knife, Asher's angry curse, Sister Anne's teeth grinding.

But none of it mattered anymore.

Because someone had chosen her. Someone had looked at her, really looked at her, and wanted her anyway.

—

The car pulled up in front of an iron gate that slowly opened with a creak. Olivia pressed her face against the window as they drove up a long driveway lined with perfectly manicured trees. The house at the end wasn't just a house, it was a mansion, bigger than anything she'd ever seen.

"Welcome home," Mr. Hilton said when the car stopped in the driveway.

"Let me show you your new room," Mrs. Hilton said, taking her hand.

Olivia entered her new room, her worn-out shoes sinking into the plush pink carpet. The space was bigger than any room she'd ever seen, with floor-to-ceiling windows draped in flowing pink curtains, a queen-sized bed with mountains of pillows, and topped with a delicate canopy that made it look like a princess would lie in it.

Her fingers trembled as she touched the soft bedspread. At the orphanage, her thin mattress had lumps and springs that poked through her frame, and her blanket was scratchy wool that made her skin itch at night.

"The bathroom is through here, dear," Mrs. Hilton said, leading her to another door.

Olivia's jaw dropped. The bathtub could fit three people. Back at St. Therese's, she shared one tiny bathroom with twelve other girls, and the water was freezing cold.

"Do you like it, dear?"

Olivia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Everything felt like a dream she might wake up from at any moment.

They walked back into the room, and for the first time, her eyes landed on the portrait hanging on the wall. The girl appeared to be about her age and looked just like her; if it weren't for her eyes, Olivia would have thought it was a portrait of herself.

“T-that's C-Caroline," Mrs. Hilton whispered. “My daughter."

Olivia couldn't look away from the face resembling hers.

"We lost her a year ago," Mrs. Hilton continued, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. "We were on a cruise ship when she fell off..." Her voice broke completely.

Olivia finally understood the Hiltons' instant decision to adopt her.

She wasn't chosen because they wanted her. She was chosen because she looked like their dead daughter.

She was just a replacement.