Chapter 1At 18, my birth parents FINALLY found me.
At 19, my foster sister "accidentally" spilled acid on my face.
My right eye? GONE.
Dad kicked her out on the spot.
Brother screamed at her. "You bitch ruined my sister's life!"
For five years, the whole family spoiled me rotten.
Until I grabbed Mom's package.
Recipient: Elise Morgan. HER.
Address: Right. Across. From. Us.
I looked up.
That sweater on her balcony? Hand-knitted by Mom. SAME as mine.
A neighbor laughed. "Your dad's owned it five years. Don't you know?"
No wonder they went for walks every fucking night.
They never abandoned her.
They just hid her from the blind, unwanted daughter.
Fine.
Then I'm OUT.
...
"Is this package for her, Mom?"
I set the box with Elise Morgan's name on the coffee table.
The glass on the table caught the light—reflected straight into my dead eye.
The air in the room froze.
Mom was peeling an apple. Her hand jerked. The knife sliced her thumb.
Blood welled up, but she didn't even flinch.
Chase shot up from the couch.
"Kira, let me explain."
I stepped back. Dodged his hand.
"Explain what?"
I looked up at him with my only remaining eye.
"The name on the package?"
"Or Apartment 702 in the building across from ours?"
Dad walked out of his study.
The moment he spotted the package, he stopped cold.
His eyes went from me to the box. Landed on Mom's bleeding finger.
"What's going on?"
His brow creased. That CEO tone kicking in.
Mom clutched injured hand, voice shaking.
"I don't know. I swear I don't know why Elise's name's on this."
She looked at Dad, begging him to save her.
"Richard, maybe it's just someone with the same name?"
Dad exhaled.
"Kira, it's just a package with the same name."
"Why are you interrogating your mother?"
He walked over, grabbed a tissue and pressed it to her cut.
"Your mom already struggles with low blood sugar."
"You're upsetting her over nothing."
I turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The view straight across to 702's balcony.
A sky-blue sweater hung there. Little crooked daisy stitched on it.
"That sweater Mom knitted—did someone with the same name just happen to buy the same one?"
Mom's face went white.
She followed my gaze. Swayed a little.
Chase rushed in front of the window, deliberately blocking my view.
"Kira, are you done yet?!"
"We already kicked her out for you back then. What more do you want?"
"Five years! We've been tiptoeing around you. Terrified you'd be upset."
"And now you're freaking out over a sweater? A package?"
His spit nearly hit my face.
It was the first time in five years he'd ever yelled at me.
All those years, he'd been so careful. So gentle.
Guess fake kindness breaks eventually.
I looked at him calmly.
"Chase, I'm not freaking out."
"I went to pick up my own package. They handed me this one."
"Said the owner of 702 is Dad. Told me to bring it up."
"I'm not blaming any of you."
I straightened up.
"I just think if you miss her that much, bring her back."
"It'd save you the trouble of running back and forth."
"Those Sunday night walks don't have to be a secret."
Dad's face darkened.
He let go of Mom and walked over to me.
"Kira, who taught you to talk to your parents like this?"
"We rented her a place because she had nowhere to go."
"She made a mistake. She's been punished."
"Do you have to destroy her to be satisfied?"
Destroy her.
The burn from that acid came roaring back.
I touched the numb half of my face.
"Dad, I'M the one who got punished."
"I'M the one who lost my eye."
Dad hesitated.
A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes.
"Dad knows you've suffered."
"How about we go shopping tomorrow? Get you that new bag?"
"You've always wanted to see the Northern Lights, right?"
"Next month. Whole family. I'll book it."
Mom rushed over and grabbed my hand. Forgot about her cut.
"That's right, sweetie. That sweater was for the building's cleaning lady."
"You misunderstood."
"We're fine. Stop being so paranoid."
I looked down at her bloody hand.
That hand used to stroke Elise's hair all the time.
Only touched my fingers when handing me guilt gifts.
I pulled away. Gently.
"Okay. I get it."
"I'm tired. Going to bed."
I walked to my room without looking back.
The door clicked shut.
Chase's lowered voice drifted in from the living room.
"Does she know? Should we move Elise somewhere else?"
That's my family.
They'd rather scheme and relocate than admit they've always loved her more.
Chapter 2
My room was dark.
Only the streetlight outside casting this sick yellow glow.
I walked to my vanity and looked at my reflection.
My right eye—clouded over. Milky white. Like some creepy doll.
I was nineteen when it happened.
Barely a year back with this family, still trying to figure out how to fit in.
Elise "accidentally" knocked over a shelf in the lab.
That bottle of acid? Landed right on my face.
I still remembered writhing in agony in the hospital bed.
She ccried outside, insisting she didn't mean it.
Out in the hallway, Chase gently rubbed her back.
"It's not your fault."
"Kira was standing in the wrong place."
That line burned worse than the acid.
They burned straight through me.
Later, to quiet the public backlash—and to comfort their long-lost daughter—Dad put on a show.
Kicked Elise out in front of everyone.
They played the righteous act so well I believed it for five years.
My phone lit up.
Text from my professor.
[Kira, the blind perfumer program in Stockholm—your acceptance letter's been sent.]
[Flight's next week. You got your passport and visa ready?]
I typed back.
[All set. Thanks, Professor.]
After losing my right eye, my sense of smell got sharp.
Two years to get into the top fragrance program in the country.
Three more to land this opportunity—one of three spots worldwide.
If this isn't my home, then I'm gone.
Around midnight, I woke up thirsty.
The moment I opened my bedroom door, I caught someone sneaking out.
Chase was already wearing his coat.
In his hand was an elegant paper shopping bag.
That logo—Elise's favorite French pastry shop.
I leaned against the doorframe.
"Where you going this late?"
He jumped, almost dropped the bag.
Turning around, he avoided my eyes.
"I... I'm hungry. Going to grab a snack."
"That bakery closes at ten."
I pointed at the bag.
"Also, you're allergic to shellfish. Why'd you buy crab puffs?"
His face went from pale to flushed.
He instinctively hid the bag behind his back.
Then gave up pretending.
"Fine. Yeah. I'm taking food to Elise."
He lowered his voice, sounding more irritated than guilty.
"She watched this whole mess go down tonight from across the street."
"Scared out of her mind. She didn't even eat dinner."
"She's got a bad stomach."
"If something happens to her, who's responsible?"
I looked at him. Almost laughed.
"Her bad stomach? Maybe from five years of late-night snacks you've been sneaking her."
"Chase, you know your left eye twitches when you lie?"
He froze.
Touched his eye. Then glared at me.
"Kira, don't push it."
"We're just helping her out on the side."
"We didn't bring her back here. What more do you want?"
"You're fine. You've got everything. You won't be happy until you destroy her?"
He slammed the bag on the shoe rack.
"If you hadn't picked up that damn package today, none of this would've happened."
"You lost one eye. Did your heart go blind too?"
A draft cut through the hallway. Ice cold.
This wasn't the first time he'd used my blindness to hurt me.
Every time I got near Elise's turf, he pulled this card.
"You're right."
I didn't flinch. Just looked at him.
"I AM blind."
"Blind enough that it took me this long to see through you."
I walked to the kitchen and poured myself water.
"Go. Don't let your sister starve."
The door slammed behind him.
I carried my glass to the balcony. Watched 702.
A minute later, the lights came on.
Chase's tall frame appeared behind the curtain.
Then a smaller figure threw herself into his arms.
They held each other tight.
Like long-lost lovers. Or siblings who'd been torn apart.
And me? Just the villain keeping them from their happy ending.
The water in my glass had gone cold.
I poured it on the dying tree in the corner.
Dad bought that tree when I first came home—celebration of our reunion.
Now the roots were completely rotting.
Time to pull it out.
Chapter 3
The next morning, the house was eerily quiet.
For the first time in years, Mom was up early, making a lavish breakfast.
She even cooked me a perfect sunny-side-up egg.
"Kira, eat up while it's hot. Your favorite."
She smiled a little too eagerly. Crow's feet bunching at the corners.
I stared at that runny yolk. Didn't pick up my fork.
"Mom, I just saw a doctor yesterday. He said I can't eat undercooked eggs."
"Makes me sick."
Her smile froze.
She grabbed the plate in a panic.
"Oh gosh, silly me. Let me cook you a new one. Fully done."
"Don't bother. Toast is fine."
I picked up a dry piece of bread and washed it down with water.
She remembered Elise had stomach issues.
Forgot I throw up all night from runny eggs.
Dad sat at the head of the table, scrolling through morning news.
"Kira, you're graduating soon. Thought about work yet?"
He set his tablet aside and took a sip of coffee.
"I've got a prime shop space in the Brooklyn Art District. Saved it for you."
"You're into perfumes and all that, right?"
"Open a boutique. I'll back you."
A bribe. That's what this was.
Buying my silence about 702 with a storefront.
"Thanks, Dad. I've already got a job."
I swallowed the last dry bite.
His brow furrowed.
"What kind of job could you possibly find? With your eye—"
He stopped himself before finishing the sentence.
His voice softened.
"Working out there isn't like staying with family."
"People will look at you differently."
"Listen to Dad. Stay on your own turf—no one will mess with you."
No one except my own family.
"I've made up my mind. Signing the contract tomorrow."
I wiped my mouth with a napkin.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Mrs. Davis went to answer it. Some trendy girl stood outside.
Blair Hastings. Elise's best friend.
She clearly didn't expect to run into me, surprise flashed across her face.
Then she put on that smug look again.
"Mrs. Morgan, Elise asked me to bring you this fish oil. From Australia."
She walked right past me.
Set two fancy gift boxes on the coffee table.
"She said you haven't been sleeping well. Had someone bring these back special."
Mom instinctively glanced at me before hurriedly pushing the boxes away.
"Blair, you didn't have to."
"I really don't need these."
But Blair wasn't finished.
She deliberately raised her voice.
"Mrs. Morgan, please take them. Elise worries about you every day."
"She said even if she can't be here in person, she wants you to know she cares."
She shot me a look. Full of contempt.
"Unlike some people."
"Living in the master bedroom. Taking everything for granted."
"Can't even boil water for her parents."
Chase came downstairs and heard every word.
He didn't defend me. Just walked over and patted Blair's shoulder.
"Blair, that's enough."
Then he turned to me. Eyes full of blame.
"Kira, look at Elise."
"She's been through hell, and she still thinks about Mom and Dad."
"Look at yourself. Walking around with that cold face all day."
I almost laughed.
Been through hell?
Living in a 2,000-square-foot penthouse downtown. Getting ten grand a month under the table.
That's hell?
I stood up and walked right up to Blair.
"If she's so thoughtful, why didn't she bring it herself?"
I looked her dead in the eye.
"Face too thick to fit through the door?"
Blair exploded.
"Kira, watch your mouth! Who the hell do you think you are?"
"If you hadn't crawled back here five years ago, Elise wouldn't be suffering like this!"
Slap.
My hand connected with her cheek. Hard.
The sharp crack echoed through the living room.
Everyone froze.
Blair held her face, staring at me in shock.
"You hit me?"
"Yeah. I did."
I shook out my stinging hand.
"This is the Morgan house. You're a guest."
"You don't get to come in here and scream at people."
"I'm simply teaching you manners."
Then I turned to face my mother, father, and brother.
All three of them stood frozen.
"So which is it?"
My voice was quiet. But it landed like a hammer.
"So tell me."
"Did I crawl back to this family?"
"Or were you the ones who begged me?"
Five years ago, they tearfully welcomed me home in front of every major news outlet.
Not love.
To fix the scandal of abandoning their real daughter.
Dad's face went dark.
Mom covered her mouth, unable to speak.
Chase lunged forward to shield Blair. But my stare stopped him cold.
"Take your crap and get out."
I pointed at the door.
"And if I see you—or your little friend across the hall—again?"
"I'll send every media outlet her acid transaction records five years ago."
