Chapter 3

The Henderson yacht party was that weekend. Three stories tall, infinity pool on the upper deck.

I wore a simple black dress. Flats—even with prosthetics, I wasn't steady on boats.

Celeste wore white. Strapless. Hair in perfect waves.

We'd been there maybe twenty minutes when a server carrying champagne "tripped" near me.

Ice-cold liquid everywhere.

"Oh my God!" The server was young, apologetic. "I'm so sorry, miss!"

"It's fine—" I started to say.

Celeste already had my arm. "Here, let me help you clean up!"

She practically dragged me away from the crowd, toward the far end of the deck. No cameras there. No witnesses.

We stopped at the railing. Dark water below.

Celeste's smile vanished.

"You think you're so clever," she hissed. "Playing pathetic. Making them pity you."

I said nothing.

"But they don't love you. They love me. They chose me. I've been in that house for ten years."

"I know," I said.

"So here's what happens next." She leaned in close. "You tell them you want to go back to wherever they found you. That you can't handle this life."

"Or?"

"Or I'll make sure you can't."

I looked at her. Really looked at her.

"Celeste, you're going to push me into the water now."

She froze. "What?"

"You're going to push me. Make it look like an accident. Then you'll jump in screaming, and Garrett will save you first because you'll be louder. More dramatic."

Her eyes widened.

"The question is," I continued, "do you have the guts to actually do it? Or are you going to chicken out?"

She stared at me for several seconds.

Then her face twisted with rage.

She shoved me.

I went over the rail. Cold water swallowed me instantly. Salt flooded my mouth.

Above me, Celeste's scream: "GARRETT! HELP! SHE JUMPED! SHE TRIED TO PULL ME WITH HER!"

Then a splash as she jumped in after me.

I didn't struggle. Didn't thrash. Didn't scream.

Just sank.

(Survival mechanism: stay still, don't make it worse, wait for it to be over.)

Above me, Garrett dove in.

I watched him swim past me toward Celeste's flailing form.

Watched him grab her, drag her toward the yacht.

My lungs burned.

Finally, someone noticed.

"THERE'S ANOTHER ONE IN THE WATER!"

"THE QUIET GIRL—SHE'S NOT MOVING!"

Garrett's face went pale with horror. He dove back down.

His arms wrapped around me, hauled me up.

I broke the surface, gasping.

He pushed me toward the ladder. Hands pulled me onto the deck.

I lay there coughing up seawater.

Garrett climbed up, then helped Celeste up.

She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. "She—she tried to kill me! She grabbed my ankle and pulled me under!"

"What?" Garrett's voice was sharp. "Kira, what the hell happened?"

I was still coughing. Couldn't speak.

He grabbed my shoulders, forced me to look at him.

"Apologize to Celeste. Right now."

I tried to nod. Tried to be compliant.

But then I felt it.

My right eye. The prosthetic one.

The water pressure had broken the seal.

I lifted my hand to my face—

Too late.

It fell out.

Bounced once on the deck.

Rolled.

Everyone saw it.

The hollow socket. The damaged orbital bone.

Complete silence.

Celeste stopped crying.

I slowly picked up the eye. Held it carefully in my palm.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I didn't want to... scare anyone."

Garrett's hands dropped from my shoulders.

He stared at me—at my face—like he'd never actually seen me before.

"Kira..." His voice cracked.

Someone in the crowd whimpered.

I tried to smile. "It's okay. I'm used to it."

Garrett's face did something strange.

Not anger. Not disgust.

Shame.

Someone brought towels. Someone else went for a doctor.

But I was still holding my eye, not sure how to put it back in—

When a sharp CRACK split the air.

"THE MAST!" someone screamed.

The yacht's massive main mast—thirty feet of solid wood and rigging—was splintering at the base.

Snapping.

And Garrett was standing directly beneath it.