Chapter 3

The ballroom’s crystal chandeliers blazed. Victoria was in a custom designer gown, the cut so luxurious it made her look tall and sharp, like a winner who’d already got everything she wanted.

I stood off to the side. Even the cheap foundation couldn’t cover how pale I was, my lips had that sickly gray tint.

She was the precious treasure they’d coddled her whole life. I was just the dirt they’d scraped off the bottom of their shoes.

She had that perfect polite smile on her face. “Thank you all for coming. My sister Elena, she made some mistakes when she was younger, and she’s been atoning for them these past four years… She chose to work in the basement to humble herself, and now she’s even willing to donate a kidney to save me. I’ll never forget how kind she is.”

“We’re family, always. I know she just got lost for a little while. She’s always been a good person.”

Her graceful, benevolent smile never slipped for the crowd, but her eyes darted to me for a fleeting second—cold, calculating, and unmistakeably triumphant.

The crowd erupted in applause. No one knew that the “self-improvement” they’d talked about? It was just radioactive needles and corrosive waste down in that basement.

A sharp pain shot through my knee, over and over. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe, and all the memories came flooding back, unbidden.

Last winter, the ventilation in the basement got shut off out of nowhere. Toxic fumes poured in through the cracks, making me cough so hard my ribs ached, my throat burning like fire. I banged on the door screaming for help, until my voice went raw and my hands were bleeding. All night, no one came. The toxic fumes filled my lungs, and I knelt on the floor throwing up until there was nothing but bile left.

The protective gloves they gave me were always torn, full of holes. The excuse was always “the good ones went to everyone else.” I had to carry the radioactive waste with my bare hands. Corrosive liquid burned right through my skin, my hands covered in blisters, popping and oozing, scarring and rotting, layer after layer, never going away.

The supervisor was always hovering, cornering me in empty hallways. His eyes would rake over me, and he’d “accidentally” brush my ass or my chest. I’d dodge as hard as I could, but he’d just laugh, all creepy, and get worse. I couldn’t say anything. I just had to take it, living every night in disgust and fear.

David walked over, holding that folded-up agreement. He didn’t even look at me, just shoved it into my hand. “Go sign it backstage. Don’t make a fool of yourself out here. You look pale as a ghost.”

The maids grabbed me by the arms and dragged me back to the green room.

David threw the pen down in front of me. “Sign.” That was all he said.

My hands shook as I reached for the pen, but I barely had the strength to pick it up.

Right then, I was like a crumbling building, one wrong move away from falling apart.

“Hurry up.” David snapped, impatient. “Victoria’s waiting up on stage to announce the good news.”

I stared at the agreement, my eyes locked on the words “voluntary donation.”

I laughed, and tears ran down my cheeks, dropping onto the agreement and smudging the ink.

For Eli, I had to survive. Even if I only had one breath left.

I used every last bit of strength I had, grabbed the pen, and wrote my name.

Elena Carter.

Carter.

How ironic.

My husband. He’d stolen my son, given him to another woman to raise. Lied to me for four whole years.

My brother, the one I grew up with. He watched me get hurt, did nothing, for four years.

My parents. They favored Victoria so much it was like it was in their bones. They never once saw me as their real daughter.

But I was the real daughter. Victoria was just our cousin, the one they’d adopted to fill the hole after their own daughter died.

I didn’t belong to the Carters. I didn’t belong to the Hales.

Turns out, the only thing that was ever really mine, from start to finish, was the name Elena.

“Good.” David snatched the agreement right out from under my hand, didn’t even glance at it, just stuffed it into his suit jacket.

He looked down at me, like I was just some piece of trash he’d already used. “Tomorrow morning, go to the hospital to get prepped for surgery.”

Then he turned and walked out, didn’t even bother to shut the door all the way.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, listening to the applause and cheers echoing down the hallway.

They were hymns to Victoria.

And they were the cruelest requiem, just for me.