Chapter 1

Emily' s smile was as bright as the new silver pen she held out to me. It gleamed under the flat, unforgiving light of my tiny, cramped apartment.

"For you, Sarah," she said, her voice full of that practiced warmth that always made my stomach clench. "I know how hard you' ve been looking for a new job. I thought a nice pen might bring you some good luck for the applications."

A new job. I needed one because the last one I had, a stable position at a downtown marketing firm, disappeared after Emily gifted me a beautiful, 'lucky' desktop plant. A week after I put it on my desk, the company' s main server crashed, wiping out a multi-million dollar campaign I was in charge of. They fired me on the spot. They said I was careless. My boss, a man who had praised my work for three years, couldn' t even look me in the eye.

He just said, "Things just seem to go wrong around you, Sarah."

That was two months ago.

Before that, there was the 'thoughtful' gift of a designer handbag. The day I started using it, my wallet was stolen, along with my ID and every cent I had. Emily had hugged me, telling me how awful my luck was.

And before that, there was the set of exquisite wine glasses she gave me and Mark for our anniversary. The night we used them, Mark and I had the worst fight of our five-year relationship. He said things I could never forget, and I screamed back things I didn' t know were inside me. A week later, he left me. Two weeks after that, he was dating Emily.

Now they were the city' s golden couple. He was a rising architect, and she was a celebrated artist whose paintings suddenly started selling for incredible sums. Everyone said they were blessed.

I looked at the pen in her hand. It was an elegant, expensive-looking thing. I knew, with a certainty that settled cold and hard in my gut, that it was poison.

A memory flashed through my mind, unbidden. Me, at my lowest point, a week after Mark had left. I had gone to Emily' s spacious, sunlit studio, begging for an explanation. I was crying, my face a mess, my world shattered.

"Why, Emily? Why is this happening to me?"

She had looked at me, not with pity, but with a cruel, triumphant glint in her eyes. She picked up a small, carved wooden bird from her desk, another one of her 'gifts' to me that I had stupidly left behind.

"Because you had all the luck, Sarah," she had whispered, her voice a venomous hiss. "You always did. The firstborn. The one Mom and Dad were always proud of. The one who got the good grades, the good boyfriend. I was just the shadow."

She caressed the wooden bird. "So I found a way to take it. These little gifts… they' re not for you. They' re for me. They take your good fortune and transfer it to me. Every time you lose something, I gain something."

She smiled then, a wide, terrible smile. "Your job paid for my gallery representation. Your boyfriend… well, I think I' ll keep him. You' re not unlucky, Sarah. You' re a battery. And you' re just about drained."

I had stumbled out of her studio that day, the truth a living, breathing monster chasing me down the street. No one would ever believe me. My parents adored Emily. They' d just shake their heads and say, "Oh, Sarah, you' re just jealous. Don' t be a jinx."

Now, standing in my bleak apartment, I looked from the pen back to her smiling face. The old Sarah would have broken down, screamed, or thrown the pen back at her.

But that Sarah was gone. She had died with my job, my relationship, and my family' s love.

I forced a weak, grateful smile onto my own face.

"Thank you, Emily. That' s so thoughtful."

My voice was hollow, but she didn' t seem to notice. Or maybe she just didn' t care.

"Of course," she said, pressing the cold metal into my palm. "Anything for my big sister."

I closed my fingers around it, the smooth surface feeling like a snake' s skin. I felt a familiar wave of dizziness, a faint, metallic taste in my mouth. It was the feeling of my own life being siphoned away. But this time, underneath the weakness, a cold, hard resolve was forming. I wasn' t a victim anymore. I was a survivor, and I was going to fight back.

"I have to run," Emily said, glancing at her expensive watch. "Mark is taking me to that new French restaurant tonight to celebrate my latest commission."

She air-kissed my cheek, her perfume cloying and sweet. "Do try to cheer up, Sarah. Maybe your luck will turn around soon."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, I dropped the act. My hand flew to my chest, where a small, cool lump rested against my skin, hidden under my shirt. It was my grandmother' s locket. My mother had tried to give it to Emily, saying it would suit her better, but my grandmother, in her last lucid moments, had pressed it into my hand and whispered, "This is the family' s true fortune, Sarah. Don' t ever let it go."

Emily had never known about it. It was the one piece of me she hadn' t been able to touch, to poison, to drain. It was my last hope.

I looked at the pen in my hand. It was a beautiful instrument of my destruction. But not anymore. Now, it was going to be a weapon.

I knew exactly what to do with it.

The next day, I went to a coffee shop near the city' s main military headquarters. A few weeks ago, in a moment of distraction, I had found a wallet on the sidewalk. It belonged to a high-ranking officer, Commander David Stone. I had returned it to the base, and he had insisted on buying me a coffee to thank me. He was a serious man, with sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to see right through people. He spoke about duty, honor, and integrity. He was everything my family and my ex-boyfriend were not.

I sat at a small table, nursing a cheap coffee, and waited. As I' d hoped, he came in around noon for his lunch break. He spotted me and gave a small nod of recognition.

"Miss Miller. Good to see you again."

"Commander Stone," I said, standing up. "It' s a coincidence running into you."

"Please, call me David."

We made small talk for a minute, then I reached into my bag.

"This is going to sound strange," I said, pulling out the silver pen. "But I wanted to give you this. As a thank you for the coffee, and… for your service. A man in your position, doing such important work for the country, deserves a fine writing instrument."

He looked surprised, but he took the pen, his fingers brushing against mine. I flinched internally but kept my expression neutral.

"That' s very generous of you, but completely unnecessary," he said, examining the pen. It did look impressive.

"Please," I insisted. "I' d feel better. Good luck with your work, Commander."

I turned and walked out of the coffee shop, not looking back. I didn' t know what the pen would do, but I knew its curse was no longer aimed at me. It was now in the hands of a powerful, principled man. I was counting on him to notice when things went wrong.

The fallout was faster and more dramatic than I could have ever imagined.

That evening, the local news was on at the small diner where I was eating a bowl of soup I could barely afford. A breaking news alert flashed across the screen.

"Chaos at the Northern Military Command headquarters today as a critical server network crashed, leading to the temporary corruption of sensitive defense logistics data. Sources say the crash originated in the office of Commander David Stone, a highly respected officer. An investigation is underway…"

My soup spoon clattered against the bowl. It had worked.

My phone rang. It was my mother.

"Sarah! Did you see the news?" her voice was frantic. "They' re talking about that military base! Weren' t you just there the other day?"

"I returned a wallet, Mom. That' s all."

"Your father and I are so worried! It' s just… things like this always seem to happen around you! It' s that awful luck of yours. First your job, and now this! You were near that Commander, weren' t you? I hope you didn' t jinx him!"

Before I could respond, another call came through. It was Mark. I let my mother' s call go to voicemail and answered.

"Sarah, what did you do?" he demanded, his voice laced with accusation.

"What are you talking about, Mark?"

"The military base! Emily is terrified. She gave you that pen to help you, and you go and get involved in some kind of national security incident! You' re like a walking disaster! Stay away from us, Sarah. Stay away from Emily. You' re nothing but a curse."

He hung up.

I sat there in the noisy diner, the voices of my mother and my ex-boyfriend echoing in my head. They blamed me. Instantly, without a second thought. I was the jinx. The curse. The unlucky one.

For the first time in a long time, a real, genuine smile touched my lips. It felt cold and sharp.

Let them think that. Their blindness was my new shield. And the war had just begun.