Chapter 1

Lily's POV

I used to think I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Daddy drove me to Miss Victoria's ballet studio. Mommy always came too, waiting outside with hot chocolate. Through the big glass window, she'd watch me dance, clapping the loudest when class ended.

"You're going to be a star, my little swan," she'd whisper, fixing my hair ribbon.

That was three weeks ago. Before everything fell apart.

On that Tuesday morning, Mommy made heart-shaped pancakes with strawberries—my favorite. She hummed along to the radio, flour dusting her cheek. I watched her move around the kitchen, so happy and beautiful.

"Mommy, what are those marks on your hands?" I asked, pointing at the thin white scars on her fingers.

She tucked her hands behind her back quickly. "Just old cooking burns, baby. Nothing to worry about." But the scars went all the way up her arms. Before I could ask more, she changed the subject. "Finish your breakfast. We can't be late."

The drive to the studio took fifteen minutes. Daddy kept checking his phone at red lights. When it buzzed, he'd glance at the screen and smile—not his normal smile. A weird, secret kind.

"Who's texting you?" Mommy asked.

"Just work stuff," Daddy said, shoving the phone in his pocket.

Mommy stared at him, then looked out the window. I didn't think much of it. Grown-ups were always doing boring work stuff.

Miss Victoria's studio smelled like wood polish and rosin. I loved it there. Miss Victoria was young and pretty, with blonde hair in a perfect bun. When I walked in, she smiled bright.

"Good afternoon, Lily!" Then she looked past me. "Hi, David."

Not Mr. Miller. David.

"I'll pick her up at five," Daddy said, touching her arm. Just for a second. Mommy was outside, so she didn't see.

But I did.

Class was fun. We practiced arabesques and learned combinations for the spring recital. Miss Victoria said I was improving. Through the glass, I could see Mommy watching with that look—proud but sad, like she was happy for me but missing something.

After class, I went to change. When I came out, Miss Victoria's office door was half-open. I heard Daddy's voice, low and soft.

"I can't keep doing this, Vic. She's getting suspicious."

"I know. But we've waited this long. Just a little longer."

My heart started pounding. What were they talking about?

Then I heard it. Kissing.

I peeked through the crack in the door. Daddy was kissing Miss Victoria. Her arms around his neck. His hands on her waist.

I couldn't breathe. My ballet bag slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a loud thump.

They jumped apart. Daddy's face went white.

"Lily—"

I ran. Past them, out the door, into the parking lot. Tears poured down my face.

Mommy jumped out of the car. "Baby, what's wrong?"

I couldn't speak. I just crashed into her and sobbed.

Daddy and Miss Victoria came running out. Mommy looked at Daddy's messed-up hair. At Miss Victoria's smudged lipstick. At the guilt on their faces.

Mommy's whole body went stiff.

"Catherine, let me explain—" Daddy started.

"Get in the car, Lily." Her voice was cold and sharp, like broken glass.

"Mommy—"

"NOW."

I'd never heard her sound like that. I climbed into the back seat, shaking. Through the window, I watched Mommy walk up to Miss Victoria.

Then she slapped her. Hard. The sound echoed across the parking lot.

"Don't you EVER come near my family again."

Mommy got in the car and started driving. Her scarred hands gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.

When we got home, Daddy's car pulled in right behind us.

"Catherine, please, let's talk—"

"TALK?" Mommy's scream made me cover my ears. "How long, David? HOW LONG have you been screwing my daughter's ballet teacher?"

I ran to my room. Even with the door closed, I heard everything.

"It's not what you think—"

"Then what IS it?"

"Don't call her that—"

"Oh, you're DEFENDING her now?"

Their voices got louder. Meaner. I curled up with Mr. Flopsy, my stuffed bunny, pressing him against my ears.

Then Daddy said something that made everything go quiet.

"You want the truth? Fine. Victoria and I were together first. We were going to get married. But then YOU got pregnant, and I had to do the right thing. This marriage was never supposed to happen. YOU trapped me."

I peeked out my door. Mommy stood at the bottom of the stairs, frozen.

"Trapped you." She repeated it quietly. Then screamed. "TRAPPED YOU? I gave up EVERYTHING for you! My career, my body, my LIFE! I destroyed my feet dancing to pay for YOUR degree! And you're saying I TRAPPED YOU?"

"I never asked you to give up ballet—"

"You got me PREGNANT at twenty-two! What choice did I have?!"

Mommy turned and looked up the stairs. Her eyes found me.

For the first time in my life, when my mother looked at me, I didn't see love.

I saw hate.

"This is all YOUR fault," she said, voice shaking. "If I hadn't gotten pregnant with you, none of this would have happened. If you hadn't wanted ballet lessons, your father would never met that woman again. Everything fell apart because of YOU."

"Mommy, I'm sorry—" Tears ran down my face.

"Don't call me that." She whispered, then screamed. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

She started walking up the stairs. I backed into my room, terrified.

Then her phone rang.

She stopped, breathing hard. After a moment, she answered.

"Hello?" Her voice was sharp. Then it changed. "What? What hospital?"

I watched the anger drain from her face, replaced by shock.

"Sarah? No. No, that's not—when did this happen?"

Her legs gave out. She sat down hard on the step.

"I see. Yes. I understand. I'll come right away."

She lowered the phone. Different tears ran down her face now. Scared tears.

"Catherine, what happened?" Daddy asked.

Mommy looked at him with empty eyes.

"Sarah's dead. Car accident." Her voice broke. "She's dead, David."

My hand flew to my mouth. Aunt Sarah? Emma's mom?

"Oh my God," Daddy whispered. "Emma—is she—"

"Sarah's last words were about her." Mommy's voice sounded far away. "'Please, Catherine, take care of my baby.' Those were her last words."

Mommy stood up slowly. She looked at me, then at Daddy, then back at me.

Something changed in her eyes. Something dark and twisted.

"Pack your things, David. I want you out tonight."

She looked at me one more time.

And I knew—nothing would ever be the same again.