Chapter 3

"Stay out of sight until the Grand Plaza ceremony is over," my mother said. "No Whitfield appearances. No industry events. No interviews. Just until Mia gets through this. You're the older one. Be the bigger person."

I nodded.

She kissed my forehead and left.

I pulled her list out of my pocket, looked at it one more time, and slid it under the pillow on the cot.

The basement did what basements do. By the third day my stitches were inflamed from the damp and I had a low fever that wouldn't break. My right side throbbed every time I rolled over.

Upstairs the lights stayed on late. On the fourth night I heard my father's voice drift down the stairwell.

"Mia. This nomination is exactly what this family needed. Your instincts on that facade concept were remarkable."

Laughter. Dorian said something I couldn't catch. Glasses clinked.

That facade concept was mine. I redrew it four times. I finished the last version at two in the morning.

I pulled out my phone and typed with my left thumb.

Ceremony is in three days. I need to be out before it ends. No trace on any system.

Soren answered in under a minute.

Understood. I'll have people at the building. What else.

That was why I'd turned him down four times before. He never asked are you sure. He asked what else.

I was already asleep when the pain in my side dragged me up again. Two-something in the morning. No water on the nightstand because no one had put one there.

I took the stairs one at a time.

A strip of light bled out from under Mia's door. I was going to walk straight past it. The voices stopped me.

Mia first, low and whiny.

"The ceremony's in three days. After that, why is she still here?"

Dorian didn't answer right away.

"The transplant team said your body's still adjusting. If there's any rejection, you'll need a transfusion. Her blood type."

"I'm not going to reject it."

"We don't know that yet." A pause. "And if something does go wrong—she still has one left."

Silence. Then a small, cool laugh.

"So we're keeping her down there like a spare parts closet."

"After the ceremony I'll have her sign the divorce papers. Confidentiality clause, financial settlement. She'll agree."

"You sound awfully sure of that."

A beat.

"She loves me." His voice was flat. Almost bored. "That's both the problem and the insurance."

The sheets rustled. Mia's voice dropped, closer to him.

"Do you actually care about me? Like, really?"

His voice changed. Warmer. Lower. The voice I used to think belonged to me.

"It's always been you. Every minute I spend with her, I'm just counting down till I get back to you."

Then her laugh—soft, pleased—and the kind of quiet that isn't quiet at all.

I went back down to the basement.

I pulled the list out from under the pillow, folded it in half, then in half again, and put it back.

I sat on the edge of the cot until a thin gray line showed up in the window.

Dorian came down just after seven. He stopped in the doorway when he saw me on the floor.

"When did you wake up?"

"Just now." I pushed up against the wall to stand.

"You should sleep more, baby."

"Are you taking Mia to the Grand Plaza site today?"

Something moved in his eyes. One flicker, gone.

"She wants to walk through before the ceremony."

"Okay. Have a good time."

Two days later the house emptied out. I heard the front door close behind the three of them. I heard the SUV pull out of the drive.

I picked up my phone and sent one word.

Now.

Soren's car was already at the end of the block.

That was it. I left.

I watched the rest of it later, on a live stream from three hundred miles away.

Mia walked onto the stage in a custom gown Dorian had flown in from Milan. My parents stood in the front row. Dorian was beside her at the podium, one hand on the small of her back. The whole thing looked like a magazine cover.

She leaned into the microphone.

"I want to thank my family, and Dorian—you gave me the courage to create something that will last—"

She stopped.

Her face went white.

Her hand went to her stomach. She took one sideways step and a mouthful of blood hit the trophy with her name on it.

The room made a sound I'd never heard a room make before.

A doctor pushed through the front row, shouting for a transfusion—rare blood type, we need her donor right now... she won't make it through the night without it.

My father grabbed Dorian by the collar.

"Call her. Call that ungrateful little bitch right now."

Dorian was already dialing.

"Nora. Pick up. Nora—"

He pulled the phone away from his ear. Stared at it. Dialed again. Stared at it. Dialed again.

"What?" my father snapped. "What is it?"

"The number's not in service."