Chapter 2

The river swallowed me whole.

The cold was absolute — not sharp, not painful, just total. Like the world had decided to erase me starting from the skin inward.

I didn't fight it. I let the current take me.

In my real world, my mother would be sitting beside my hospital bed right now, frozen in time, holding my hand. I wondered if she'd baked the lemon cake she always made for my birthday.

Something seized my collar and hauled me upward.

I broke the surface choking. River water burned in my lungs. The night air hit my face like a slap.

Ethan was in the water beside me, fully clothed, his thousand-dollar coat dragging heavy around him. His face was white. His breathing came ragged and raw.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted. Water poured from his hair into his eyes. He didn't blink. "You think drowning yourself will undo what you did to Sienna? You think this makes us even?"

I stared at him.

"Then let me drown," I whispered. "Isn't that what you want?"

He flinched. Something cracked behind his expression — fast, then sealed shut.

"Sienna just came home," he said hoarsely. "I only — I didn't want her worrying about you again."

I studied the faint red that crept into the whites of his eyes.

I had seen that look before. Three years ago, when Cross Industries nearly collapsed and his board turned on him, Ethan had sat alone in his office for two days without eating. He never explained himself. He never defended himself. He just went quiet, eyes burning at the edges, until I came and talked him back from whatever ledge he'd found inside his own head.

But now? What grief did he have left to claim? For three years, every cruel assignment, every humiliation in that basement, every locked door — all of it traced back to his silence.

Fine. I wasn't going to be allowed to die here.

I dragged myself onto the bank, picked up nothing — I had nothing — and started walking.

Ethan grabbed my wrist. His grip was iron. He fell into step behind me, close enough that I could hear his breathing.

"You've always been manipulative," he said flatly. "If I let you out of my sight, God knows what stunt you'll pull next. I'll hand you off to Marcus. After that, you're not my problem."

I stopped walking.

Marcus. My brother in this world. The one who had looked me in the eye and said, You are no longer a Langford.

Marcus Langford — Wall Street's golden boy, hedge fund king, the man magazines called "the conscience of finance." He had been my protector, my anchor, the only family I had in this world after the System placed me here.

When I arrived in this body at age sixteen, Marcus was twenty. Our parents had just died in a car accident. He held me at the funeral and whispered, "I'll take care of you. That's what big brothers do."

He taught me to cook. He let me sleep in his room during thunderstorms. He threatened every boy who looked at me twice.

Then Sienna came to live with us — a distant cousin, orphaned, fragile, all soft voice and wet lashes.

Marcus adored her.

When Sienna vanished and left her letter accusing me, Marcus didn't hesitate. He grabbed my arm so hard he dislocated my shoulder and threw me out of the house in the rain.

"A monster like you doesn't carry the Langford name," he said. "I have no sister."

Going to Marcus might actually give me a better chance to end this.

—

Marcus's townhouse blazed with light. Staff rushed through the hallways arranging white peonies — Sienna's favorite flower. The entire first floor smelled like her.

Marcus stood in the foyer holding a wrapped gift box, smiling wider than I'd seen in years.

The moment he saw me, the smile died.

"You're still alive?" he said. "I assumed the basement would've finished you off by now."

I stood in the doorway, dripping river water onto his marble floor.

Ethan shifted behind me. "Sienna's back. I thought her family should handle Victoria from here."

Marcus glanced at my bare feet, at the blood still matting my hair, and felt nothing.

"I'm bringing this gift to Sienna at the penthouse," he told Ethan. "I don't have time for this. Get her out before I'm back, or I'll have security remove her myself."

Before he could turn away, I reached over to the vase of white peonies on the entry table, plucked a handful of petals, and stuffed them into my mouth.

Marcus's face went gray.

White peonies were toxic when ingested — root, stem, and concentrated petal. Everyone knew it. But as long as Sienna loved them, Marcus kept them in every room.