It was the second time the Donovans had sent me away. The first time, I was eleven. This time, I was eighteen. The reason was the same: Sloane. This time, it was because I’d slapped her for trying to snatch the worn-out rag doll I’d had for years. The first time… the reasons were more complicated. On the day I left, my parents—our parents—were busy comforting Sloane, whose sobs echoed through the marble entryway. My brother, Ethan, stood in front of her like a bodyguard, his face a mask of fury directed at me. The only thing I took with me was that doll. A gift from Carter Hayes, my betrothed, from the day I was first found and brought to this house. Seven years later, they summoned me back for the second time. The reason, once again, was Sloane. She had decided she was in love with my fiancé. 1 The moment I stepped into the grand, sun-drenched living room, Sloane dissolved into tears, her face a perfect portrait of tragedy. “I love Carter,” she cried, her voice catching prettily. “I won’t have anyone but him.” My brother, Ethan, fixed me with a look he usually reserved for criminals. “Sloane and Carter have always been close. Why do you have to be the one to ruin it?” My mother and father, the Donovans, took a softer approach, their voices laced with practiced reason. “Sloane has been raised with a certain… delicacy, Chloe. Marrying into a family as influential as the Hayeses is what’s best for her, what she’s prepared for.” My mother reached out, then let her hand fall. “Please, Chloe. Can’t you just let her have this?” My hands felt clammy on the handle of my single suitcase. I looked at the four of them, a united front of familial concern, all of it aimed at protecting someone else. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice quiet in the cavernous room. “Which room is mine?” The four of them blinked, the flow of their drama momentarily dammed. After a few seconds of silence, Ethan cleared his throat, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “The housekeeper just cleared out one of the rooms on the second floor. I’ll… I’ll show you.” I nodded and followed him up the sweeping staircase. The suitcase was heavy, its wheels bumping on each step. Halfway up, he finally seemed to realize he should be carrying it, turning to take it from me with a gruff, reluctant motion. I followed a step behind him, the old habit of politeness ingrained in me. “Thank you.” Ethan’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t reply. The room was an old storage space, hastily converted. The bed frame looked like a cast-off from the basement, and the mattress was still bare, waiting for linens that no one had remembered. For a family like the Donovans, this room was worse than what they gave the staff. Ethan coughed lightly. “The third floor…” “I know,” I cut him off gently. “It’s fine.” The third floor had four bedrooms. Sloane had claimed the two best ones—with the best light and the best views—one for sleeping, and one for her million-dollar grand piano. We stood in the dusty silence for a moment before Ethan finally broke. “Chloe, Grandpa set up this engagement for you. He left you a separate inheritance, a significant one. Sloane… she doesn’t have any of that. Can’t you just…” “What did the Hayes family say?” I asked, cutting through his appeal. “The Hayeses…” He hesitated. “This is a matter between our families. It’s an alliance. As long as we sort it out internally, we can present a united front to them later.” So, this wasn’t Carter’s idea. A small, secret breath of relief escaped me. I was eleven when they found me and brought me to this house. I thought I was coming home to parents and a brother who had spent years searching for me. Instead, I found a family that was already complete, with a daughter named Sloane. They told me that after I, the original Sloane Donovan, was lost at four years old, they’d adopted another girl to fill the void, to soothe their grief. They gave her my name. They had come to see her as their own. So when they found me, they gave me a new name: Chloe. The echo. The return. Sloane, emboldened by their adoration, had thrown a tantrum and smashed up the princess bedroom they had prepared for me. She’d pointed a finger in my face and called me a charity case from the system, unfit to sleep in such a nice room. She’d cried and screamed that she needed an inspiring environment for her piano practice, and so the room became hers. At the dinner table, she mocked me for eating too quietly, a habit I’d learned in the group home. She laughed, loud and unrestrained, at my clumsy attempts to cut a steak. When my parents offered a mild rebuke, she ran to the rooftop terrace and threatened to jump. After that, my father’s only refrain was for me to “get along with Sloane” and “not to upset her.” My mother said nothing, but her eyes, so much like my own, followed me with a cold disappointment. The turmoil that rocked the Donovan household was always, somehow, my fault. The first time I fought back against her, Ethan proposed sending me away to live with a distant relative in Blackwood Creek. … “Chloe.” Ethan’s face was stern again, pulling me from the memory. “You didn’t grow up with Mom and Dad. In terms of education, of culture, of knowing your place… how can you possibly compare to Sloane? A family like the Hayeses… even if you managed to marry into it, you wouldn’t last.” I looked at him calmly, at this man who shared my blood but had done nothing but belittle me since the moment we met. My voice was cool, each word deliberate. “Carter is my fiancé. And I am not giving him to Sloane.” 2 “Chloe! I thought after all these years, you would have grown up, learned some sense. Why must you fight Sloane for Carter?” Ethan’s anger was predictable. His eyes held a familiar glint of contempt. “I know what you’re thinking. You see the Hayes family name, the money. You think marrying Carter means you’ll be set for life, dripping in luxury.” He took a step closer. “But you and Carter have no real connection. Nothing like him and Sloane. They grew up together. Why are you so selfishly clinging to this arrangement and making Sloane miserable?” A dry laugh escaped my lips. “Ethan, you just listed all the reasons the Hayes engagement is so valuable. Why on earth would I give it away?” I stepped toward him, my eyes locked on his. “You’re so worried about Sloane’s pain. What about mine? And another thing—did you ever once stop to ask if I, your actual sister, even like Carter?” He looked genuinely stunned, sputtering, “You don’t deserve…” My gaze turned to ice. He stopped himself, a look of shamefaced anger crossing his face as he registered my mocking, knowing expression. What a joke. We were both daughters of the Donovan family. But when it came to me, the only sentiment was that I didn’t deserve it. I dropped my eyes, the dust motes dancing on the dark wood floor stinging them. I turned away sharply. “Don’t bother with the room. I’m heading back to campus this afternoon. I have an internship to focus on. I won’t be staying here.” “Chloe!” he called out as I walked away. “You bullied Sloane in high school. You were the reason she fell into a depression and had to drop out for a semester. Don’t you feel any guilt for what you owe her?” My feet froze on the top step. A hot, acidic sting filled my eyes. Bullied her? It didn’t matter what I said. They would always believe the daughter they had raised, the one they knew. I walked down the stairs and into the living room. My mother was now fussing over Sloane, feeding her something from a small bowl. She looked up as I approached, her body tensing. “Chloe, you’re not staying for dinner?” I stood there, studying the familiar lines of her face, the curve of her brows that mirrored my own. A treacherous flicker of hope ignited in my chest. “I have to get back to school,” I said. “Internship prep is starting.” My mother hesitated, a wave of relief washing over her features, followed by something else—guilt, maybe. “About Sloane… well, never mind. You… be safe on the road.” The silence stretched for a few seconds. I gave a small, self-mocking smile. “…Okay.” This house. Eight years ago, or today, it made no difference. I wasn’t welcome here. Not even by my own mother. I walked out of the Donovan mansion without a backward glance. … On the city bus, my phone buzzed. A text from Ethan. Chloe, you have to pay back what you owe Sloane. It’s my duty as her brother to see that she gets justice, and my responsibility as your brother to teach you right from wrong. I stared at the message, then powered my phone off. Eight years ago, Sloane and her friends had made my life a living hell at school. They’d thrown my textbooks in the trash, cut my hair in the bathroom, put hand sanitizer in my water bottle. After school, they would corner me, tripping me, calling me names, their laughter echoing as I picked myself up off the pavement. In a strange way, it was almost easier than the group home, with its constant hunger, the casual cruelty of the older kids, and the endless chores. Back then, I didn’t understand what it meant to be the true, lost daughter of the Donovans. All I knew was that my parents and my brother loved the beautiful, delicate Sloane. If I wanted to stay in this beautiful, delicate house, I had to get along with her. I couldn’t go back to the system. I just couldn’t. So I told myself to endure it. Just like before. Just endure it, and it will pass. But Sloane didn’t want to share her home. She switched tactics. She started showing up with mysterious bruises, telling her friends I was hurting her. She paid a shady online clinic for a depression diagnosis and tearfully announced she had to drop out of school because of the trauma. The rag doll from Carter was the final straw. She’d ripped it from my hands, her face twisted with a viciousness I’d never seen before. “Why do you get to keep anything from him? You’re a pathetic little stray who should have stayed in the system! Why did you have to come back and try to steal my family?” For the first time, I hit her. I fought back. For that one doll. It was the only gift I had received since returning to the Donovans. My home, my name, my brother, my parents—they were all hers now. Why did she have to take this one small thing, too? That night, Sloane presented my parents with edited security footage from a camera in the hall. It showed one thing, crystal clear: me, striking her. Her carefully constructed narrative of being bullied, her fabricated depression—it all solidified with that video. I was the villain. They sent me away to Blackwood Creek. And for eight lonely years, that doll, and the memory of a boy I’d met only once, were the only comforts I had. 3 It didn’t take long for Ethan to demonstrate his brotherly “responsibility.” Over the next week, every single internship application I had submitted to companies in Port Sterling in my field was rejected. I finally went to my faculty advisor, a kind man who suddenly couldn’t meet my eye. “Chloe,” he stammered, shuffling papers on his desk. “Did you… have you upset someone important? Someone with your last name, perhaps?” The words hit me like a bucket of ice water on that hot summer day. I couldn’t believe it. To force my hand for Sloane, Ethan was willing to use the Donovan family’s influence to blacklist me. Without a relevant internship, I would fail a core requirement of my degree. I wouldn’t be able to graduate. Ethan had never, not once, shown me an ounce of mercy. I wandered the campus in a daze for what felt like hours until a single name surfaced in my mind. Carter Hayes. The Donovans were powerful in Port Sterling, but they weren't the only ones. The Hayes family was just as formidable, and Carter, as one of the heirs, was already working at the family corporation. Over the years, our engagement had been a strange, disembodied thing. We weren’t close, but we exchanged polite phone calls on holidays and birthdays. Every time he called, my heart would leap with a nervous excitement, and I’d force myself to respond with a calm, measured grace. He had no idea that a simple rag doll was enough to make a lonely girl think of him for eight years. My palm was sweating as the phone rang. This was the first time I had ever asked anyone for help. And I was asking the one person I had secretly cherished a crush on. After I explained my situation, Carter agreed without a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t worry about it. Just bring your internship forms to HR tomorrow. I’ll let them know you’re coming. We happen to have an opening that’s a perfect fit for your major.” A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it pushed back the tears that had been threatening to fall all day. “Carter, thank you. Thank you so much.” He laughed on the other end of the line, his usually formal tone softening into something warmer, almost intimate. “Chloe, relax. You can intern here for as long as you need. Besides… it’ll give us more time to get to know each other.” 4 After I finished my onboarding paperwork at Hayes Corp, I saw a text from Ethan, sent at some point during the day. Chloe, if you insist on being stubborn, the consequences will only get worse. This is my final warning, as your brother. I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment, then blocked his number. Though Carter and I worked in the same building, our paths rarely crossed. He didn’t give me any special treatment, which I was grateful for. I was assigned to a senior manager and thrown into the deep end, working on projects, drafting proposals, and pulling the same late nights as everyone else. My manager would even assign me extra off-site tasks. It was exhausting, but also a relief. Carter had given me a chance, and the best way I could repay him was by working harder than anyone else. My direct supervisor was an older woman, Ms. Albright, notoriously difficult to please. She would send my proposals back covered in red ink, call me at midnight demanding revisions to a PowerPoint, and had no problem chewing me out in the middle of the open-plan office. I took it all in stride. One afternoon, however, she was particularly vicious about a minor data error in a report. As she dressed me down in front of the entire department, Carter happened to walk by, pausing for a moment to watch before continuing on his way. Later, terrified the incident would reflect poorly on him for bringing me in, I found him and explained that the mistake was entirely mine and that Ms. Albright was just doing her job. Carter just smiled, a strange, unreadable expression on his face, and said nothing. Eventually, my relentless work ethic started to soften Ms. Albright’s sharp edges. She started making small jokes, offering begrudging compliments. “You know, Chloe, that stubborn streak of yours reminds me of someone I used to know… someone I respected a great deal.” “Honestly, if you weren’t an intern, I’d think they’d signed you to an iron-clad contract from hell. You finish my projects, do the extra work the department head throws at you, and then you still manage to pull an all-nighter before spending the next day with me at the factory two hours out of town. I don’t think ten full-time employees work as hard as you do.” She looked at me shrewdly one day. “Chloe… you didn’t piss someone off, did you?” I just smiled and didn’t answer. This was an opportunity I couldn’t afford to lose. If hard work was the price, I would gladly pay it. … Four months into my internship, Ms. Albright called me into the office at ten o’clock at night. She handed me a file. “Chloe, take this to Mr. Hayes.” I took the folder, confused. “To Carter?” Delivering a document to the heir apparent at this hour was far above my pay grade. Her voice was heavy with meaning. “You’ll understand when you get there.” I followed the address she gave me to a sleek, private club downtown. As I approached the door to the VIP room, I could hear Carter’s voice inside. Just as I raised my hand to knock, Sloane’s high-pitched laughter cut through the door, sharp as glass. “Oh my god, that video of Chloe getting yelled at like a dog was hilarious! I’ve watched it a dozen times.” “Carter, darling, tell me again. Besides sending her to that factory in the middle of nowhere and then making her work all night, what else have you done to punish her?” A violent tremor went through me. My blood ran cold. Carter’s voice, when it came, was not the polite, gentle one I knew. It was lazy, laced with contempt and a casual cruelty. “Patience, baby. The old hag I assigned her to is the biggest ball-buster in the company. It’s only a matter of time before she makes Chloe cry.” He paused. “Besides, this is just to soften her up. When the internship ends, I’ll have HR invalidate her paperwork. She won’t graduate.” Sloane’s voice dropped into a pout. “But the family is planning to announce your engagement on Chloe’s twenty-first birthday.” Carter sounded bored. “So? I’ll let her think everything is fine until the party. Then, in front of everyone who matters in Port Sterling, I’ll accuse her of corporate espionage. I’ll destroy her reputation so completely that I’ll have no choice but to break the engagement. She’ll be a pariah. Is that satisfying enough for you?” Through the crack in the door, I saw Sloane, pretty and petite, curl into Carter’s arms. “Daddy and Mommy and Ethan never liked her anyway,” she purred. “But you know what would be even better? You should pretend to be nice to her. Make her fall completely in love with you. Imagine how much more satisfying it will be to crush her on the day of the engagement.” Her voice turned sharp. “Just… don’t let it get real, Carter.” “Please,” he scoffed. “As if I would ever be interested in some charity case from the system.” … I stumbled back, away from the door, turning and blindly running down the corridor. I crashed right into someone, hard. “Watch where you’re going! Do you have any idea who you just ran into?” a voice beside him snapped. Dazed, I looked up, and my vision swam into focus on a familiar, sharp-featured face.
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