The next morning, they forced me to stand at the dining table, drawing up guest lists, talking about catering like nothing had happened. Nadia stood at Xander’s side, her hand resting on his arm like she’d never left it.
When our eyes met, she smirked — that little tilt of her lips that said, You’re still here. And you’re still nothing.
But inside, I felt it like a heartbeat under my ribs: Not for long.
Tomorrow, I'll be gone.
The morning of my mother’s birthday dawned clear and cold. I sat in my vanity, pretending to fuss with my hair. I could hear Nadia’s high laugh echoing down the hallway
One more hour, I told myself. Just let them leave.
The door slammed open behind me. Nadia stood there in her silk robe. Her eyes flicked to my chest and then she lunged. I didn’t even have time to flinch before her fingers closed around the thin silver chain my father had given me when I turned sixteen.
“Give that back!” I shouted, grabbing at her wrist, but her other hand was already fisted in my hair, yanking me backward until I cried out.
“This? This cheap little thing?” she sneered, her breath hot against my ear. “You don’t deserve it. Daddy’s favorite, huh? How’s that working out for you now?”