Chapter 1
My brother gave away our family restaurant to his adopted sister for her birthday.
The worst part? She’s the daughter of the man who murdered our parents.
For ten years, Cole played the saintly savior.
He gave her my bedroom, watched her destroy my mother's photos, and let the whole town run me onto the streets.
He thought ruining my name and leaving me homeless would force me to crawl back and beg.
He forgot one thing about me. I have absolutely nothing left to lose.
Tomorrow is the town's biggest Harvest Festival.
When I step onto that stage in front of two thousand people with a microphone and a box of buried police reports, my 'perfect' brother is finally going to learn what happens when you back the real heir into a corner...
For six months, my brother and I had been locked in a bitter civil suit over the ownership of the old family house and Hale's BBQ. Half of Oak Creek had been treating our legal war like a daytime soap opera.
Thirty minutes before our third hearing, My brother, Cole, cornered me out back of Hale’s BBQ.
He leaned against his F-150, deputy badge pinned to his plaid shirt. To Oak Creek, Cole was a saint—the boy who saved the family business after our parents were killed, and the local hero who adopted the culprit's orphaned daughter.
Maeve was his shiny moral badge. And he always sacrificed me to keep it polished.
"Maeve insists on having that house, Willa," he said. "Just be reasonable."
He let out a tired sigh. "You just want money, right? Name your price. As long as I can afford it, it's yours."
Maeve. His adopted sister.
Before I could even open my mouth, his pager went off, beeping frantically like a matter of life and death.
He checked the small screen on his belt. "I know, baby," Cole’s voice changed instantly.
The righteous anger melted right into soft, practiced patience. "I'll be right back. We'll go to the county fair tonight, I promise. I'll win you that stuffed bear you wanted."
My chest tightened so fast I couldn't breathe.
The county fair.
When I was ten, I got lost near the Ferris wheel. Some drifter grabbed my arm and tried pulling me toward the parking lot. Cole found me just in time, but he was so shaken he swore on our parents' graves he would never set foot on those fairgrounds again. He hadn't. Not in nine years. Not even when I begged him to go for my high school graduation.
But for Maeve, the rule didn't exist.
Cole hung up the receiver and turned back to me, opening his mouth to start arguing again.
"Fine," I said. My voice was dead calm.
He blinked. "What?"
"You win. I'm dropping the case."
I didn't wait to see his face. I turned on the heel of my faded cowboy boots and walked away.
By the next morning, the Oak Creek Chronicle ran a front-page quote from Deputy Hale: “We’re family. Always will be.”
I stared at the word in ink. Family.
Cole actually thought I’d finally learned my place. When I went back to the old colonial house to pack my things, he stood on the front porch with his hands in his pockets, smiling like he’d just negotiated world peace. He reached out and ruffled my hair.
"That's my girl," he said. "We'll sign the transfer papers next week. You can still stay in the house, of course. We're not throwing you out."
I walked past him and went inside. I quickly saw what his version of "staying" meant.
My new room was the old coal cellar in the basement. It had a small cot pushed against the damp concrete wall.
Upstairs, the door to my old bedroom was wide open. Maeve had turned it into her personal walk-in closet. Racks of brand-new puffy dresses took up half the space. She was standing in the hallway, wearing one of my mother’s pearl necklaces, touching up her lip gloss.
"Oh, you're packing?" Maeve asked. "Cole said you liked the privacy, so I figured the basement would be perfect for you. I hope you don't mind I needed more space for my things."
She had also taken over the master bedroom, my parents' room. It was now spilling over with her clothes, her makeup, and dozens of plush toys.
I didn't say a word to her. I just grabbed my two duffel bags and walked out the back door. The only thing I made sure to take was my mother's handwritten BBQ sauce recipe book, shoved deep into the pocket of my floral dress.
Today was my nineteenth birthday.
No one in town remembered. Why would they? They were all too busy celebrating Cole's saintly generosity at the diner.
I walked down to the local grocer to use their phone. On the rack by the door, the social page of the Chronicle caught my eye.
It was a huge black-and-white photo of Maeve. She was standing right in front of the Hale’s BBQ sign, completely blocking our last name. She was beaming next to Cole.
The caption read: Best birthday ever — brother gave me the family restaurant! Thank you, Oak Creek!
She was exactly my age. She wasn't just taking my room. She was taking my birthday.
The bell above the door jingled. My grandmother, leaning heavily on her wooden cane, shuffled into the store. She didn't talk to Cole anymore, not since he brought Maeve home. She stood in front of me and pressed a small foil-wrapped box into my hands.
I opened it. A single, perfect slice of red velvet cake.
"Happy birthday, Willa," she whispered, her eyes red-rimmed. She patted my cheek with her wrinkled hand and walked past me to the aisles.
I ate the cake sitting on the curb outside. It was sweet, but it didn't wash away the bitter taste in my mouth. I wiped my hands, stood up, and went straight to the payphone at the corner.
I dropped a quarter into the slot and dialed my attorney's office.
"Mr. Davis," I said.
"Willa? Have you lost your mind? The judge was actually leaning our way. We could fight this."
"I don't want it," I cut him off. "Not the house. Not the restaurant. Nothing."
"You're just giving it to them?" He sounded genuinely angry. "After everything?"
"No," I said, staring at the empty road leading out of Oak Creek. "I'm cutting dead weight. Draft the papers. I want my name off the property, off the business, and I want Cole Hale's name off everything connected to me."
