Chapter 1: The Fire Inside the Dressing Room
The flame struck the surface of the blue liquid.
For one terrible second, nothing happened.
Then the bin erupted in a burst of orange fire.
Blair screamed and stumbled backward into the wardrobe. Renata seized my father's arm, but Daniel Carter shook her off before she could grab his sleeve.
“Have you lost your mind?”” Renata shrieked.
My father stood between the burning bin and the doorway, his expression colder than I'd ever seen it.
“Get away from the fire,” he ordered.
He snatched the heavy wool blanket from the end of the dressing-room bench and dropped it over the bin. The flames disappeared beneath the fabric, leaving a cloud of bitter smoke curling toward the ceiling.
I could barely breathe.
My dress was gone.
Renata's gray gown and Blair's designer dress were burning alongside it, their expensive fabric curling into blackened strips. The smell of scorched satin filled the room.
And my father had just set fire to two dresses that together cost more than most people earned in a month.
Blair stared at him.
“You burned my dress!”” she shouted.
“Do you have any idea how much that cost?””
Daniel turned toward her.
“Do you have any idea what that dress meant to my daughter?””
Blair opened her mouth, but no answer came.
I stood beside the empty hook, my bare feet cold against the polished floor. My hands were trembling so badly that I pressed them against my thighs.
Dad noticed.
His anger vanished for a moment.
“Sweetheart,” he said, approaching me slowly, “are you hurt?””
I shook my head.
He looked at the red mark around my wrist where Blair had grabbed me.
“That's not what I asked.””
“I'm okay, Dad.””
The words barely made it past my throat.
He crouched in front of me and gently examined my wrist. His hands were rough from years of working around timber and machinery, but he touched me as if I were something fragile.
Then he looked up at Renata.
“Explain.””
Renata straightened her robe and pressed a hand against her cheek, the same cheek I'd slapped minutes earlier.
“She attacked me.””
I stared at her.
“You cut my dress!””
“And then you struck me,” Renata snapped.
“In my own home.””
“Your own home?”” Dad repeated.
His voice was quiet enough to make Blair stop moving.
Renata's eyes flicked toward him.
“Daniel, let's not do this in front of the girls.””
“You had no trouble doing it in front of them when you destroyed my daughter's property.””
“It was a dress!””
“No. It was a promise.””
For a moment, I thought Dad might cry.
He didn't.
He stood, removed his phone from his pocket, and called someone.
“Martin? It's Daniel. I need you at the house immediately.””
Renata's face changed.
Martin Hale was my father's attorney. He'd helped Dad negotiate the purchase of our timber-processing company nearly fifteen years earlier and had handled every major legal matter since.
He didn't make social visits.
“Why are you calling Martin?”” Renata demanded.
Dad ignored her.
“Bring the blue folder from my office. The original documents, not the copies.””
He ended the call.
Renata moved toward him, lowering her voice.
“Daniel, please. We can discuss this privately.””
“There's nothing private about what happened here.””
“You're overreacting.””
Dad looked at the ruined gowns.
“Then you'll have no problem explaining your actions to Martin.””
Renata's expression hardened.
“You're going to let your daughter turn you against your wife?””
“No,” he said.
“You did that yourself.””
Blair grabbed her mother's arm.
“Mom, tell him he can't do this. Tell him!””
Renata didn't answer her.
Instead, she turned toward me.
“This is what you wanted, isn't it?”” she hissed.
“You've been waiting for an excuse to destroy this family.””
I wanted to tell her she was wrong.
I wanted to tell her I'd spent two years trying to become the kind of stepdaughter she couldn't criticize.
I'd kept my room spotless. I'd stopped asking Dad to attend school events because Renata always found a reason he couldn't come. I'd even learned to swallow my anger whenever Blair borrowed my things and returned them ruined.
But the truth was that I had stopped believing this family could be saved long before that afternoon.
I simply hadn't known how to admit it.
Dad stepped between us.
“Don't speak to her like that.””
Renata laughed bitterly.
“Of course. Your precious Emily can do no wrong.””
“She's seventeen.””
“And Blair is eighteen! Yet you treat my daughter like a guest while Emily gets everything.””
I looked at Blair's diamond bracelet, the designer clothes, the expensive phone, and the luxury car Dad had helped Renata purchase for her daughter.
Everything?
I almost laughed.
Then I remembered something I'd overheard three nights earlier.
Renata had been standing in Dad's study, speaking in a low voice on the phone.
“He won't notice until it's too late,” she'd said.
“The girl is a distraction. Once the papers are signed, none of this will matter.””
At the time, I'd assumed she was talking about some business arrangement.
Now, watching her stare at the blue folder Dad had requested, I wondered whether those words had been about something much closer to home.
A knock sounded downstairs.
Dad looked toward the hallway.
“Martin's here.””
Renata grabbed his sleeve.
“Daniel, don't bring him into this.””
He pulled free.
“You should have thought about that before you cut the dress.””
He walked out.
Blair followed him, crying and demanding that he replace her gown. Renata remained behind, watching me with a look that made my stomach tighten.
When we were alone, she stepped close enough for me to smell her perfume beneath the smoke.
“You think he's going to protect you forever?”” she whispered.
I said nothing.
“He gets tired, Emily. He's already tired. And when he finally realizes how much trouble you've caused him, you'll discover exactly where you stand.””
She smoothed the front of her robe.
“Your mother isn't coming back. Your father can't spend the rest of his life making up for that.””
My throat closed.
Renata smiled.
“Enjoy tonight. It may be the last time you get to play the victim in this house.””
She walked away.
I stood alone in the dressing room, staring at the scorched remains beneath the blanket.
Then I noticed something on the floor beside the wardrobe.
A small brass key.
I'd never seen it before.
I picked it up and turned it over in my palm. A tiny number had been engraved into its head.
*214.*
From the hallway, I heard Martin ask my father a question.
“Daniel, did you tell her what Renata signed?””
Dad answered so quietly that I almost missed it.
“No. And until I understand how she got access to those accounts, I don't want Emily involved.””
I stopped breathing.
Those accounts?
Before I could move closer, Martin said something else.
“Then you need to see this before she destroys the original.””
A drawer slid open.
Paper rustled.
And my father said a name that made every hair on my arms stand up.
“Margaret?””
Margaret was my mother's name.
She had been dead for five years.
May you like
So why was my father's attorney holding a document connected to her?
And why did Renata look terrified when I entered the hallway with the brass key in my hand?
