Chapter 2

I pack what fits in one bag and take Rowan back to the only home either of us has ever known.

It used to be my parents met me at the door before I even reached it. Tonight my mother doesn't move from the couch.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mom — I've got nowhere else. Just for tonight."

She doesn't answer right away. When she does, her voice has the same edge she uses on men who owe the family money.

"This isn't a shelter. Don't drag your mess through my door."

Something in my chest goes tight and stays there.

Rowan peeks out from behind my legs, small and hopeful, the way she's peeked out at them a hundred times before.

"Grandpa? Grandma?"

Their faces don't move. Not an inch.

"Don't call us that. We don't have relatives who turned out this way."

It lands like a slap I didn't see coming. Four days ago I was their daughter. Tonight I'm not even family enough to claim.

I remember my father lifting me onto his shoulders once, telling anyone who'd listen that I was the best thing that ever happened to this family.

My mother bragging about me to every woman at every dinner table in this city.

That was before Ivy walked back through the door and every ounce of it evaporated like it had never existed.

My mother's eyes are flat, unmoved, already halfway to done with me.

"If you actually want to stay under this roof, here's how it works. Tomorrow you put out a statement. You admit you cheated. You admit Rowan isn't Julian's. Then you step down from the family business and sign your share of the operation over to Ivy — free and clear."

My voice comes out thinner than I mean it to.

"You want me to say what? Rowan isn't some — "

My mother doesn't even blink.

"A fake can't produce anything real. What else would you call her?"

Something breaks inside my chest, quiet and total, like a bone giving out under weight it was never built to hold.

Footsteps on the stairs. Ivy, eyes red-rimmed, playing the part of the girl who can't bear to watch this.

"Mom, Dad — please, don't." She turns to me, voice syrup-soft. "Sister, I know this is hard.

But Mom and Dad are getting older.

The family has a reputation to protect. You can't drag everyone down over your personal life."

She crouches down toward Rowan, all borrowed sympathy.

"Just apologize. Once things settle down, we're still one family." A glance my way. "As for whether she's really Julian's — Julian's not the type to hold that against a kid."

My mother's patience runs out before I can answer. She waves at the housekeeper.

"Put her things outside."

"We raised you for twenty years. We were prepared to let you leave with some dignity." Her voice goes cold and final. "You won't apologize? Then don't bother coming back."

By the time we leave, it's already dark. Rowan doesn't cry. She just goes quiet against my shoulder, the kind of quiet that scares me more than tears would.

I check us into a hotel and hand over the family card without thinking.

The clerk swipes it, frowns, swipes it again.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. This card's been frozen."

My stomach drops. I dig out my own card — the one with my own name on it, my own money in it.

Empty. Every cent, gone.

Julian didn't just want me gone. He wanted me with nowhere left to land.