Chapter 1

Ava Miller pulled her last suitcase, the one with the wobbly wheel, up the pristine driveway. The Vance house loomed, a two-story colonial, white paint gleaming under the California sun. It looked like something from a magazine, a place where problems were probably just misplacing your tennis racket.

Her own problems felt heavier than the suitcase.

Her mom was gone. Six months. The words still felt like a punch.

Her dad, a man she barely knew, had arranged this. "A new family, Ava. Brenda and Isabelle will be great for you. Northwood University is right there."

He hadn't seen Brenda Vance' s smile, the kind that was all teeth and no warmth. He definitely hadn't met Isabelle.

Brenda opened the door, a vision in a silk blouse and perfectly tailored slacks. Her blonde hair didn't move.

"Ava. You're here." Her voice was clipped, like an unwelcome appointment.

"Hi, Mrs. Vance." Ava managed, trying to sound brighter than she felt.

"Brenda," she corrected, but her eyes said otherwise. "Your room is upstairs. Second on the left. It's… cozy."

Isabelle, Ava' s new stepsister, materialized at the top of the grand staircase. She was all long, tanned limbs and a bored expression, wearing an expensive-looking Northwood U sweatshirt.

"Oh, good. The stray made it." Isabelle' s voice dripped sarcasm.

Brenda sighed, a small, put-upon sound. "Isabelle, dear. Manners."

Isabelle just flicked her perfect hair. "Just keeping it real, Mom. Hope you brought your own shampoo. Mine' s off-limits."

Ava' s grip tightened on the suitcase handle. So much for a warm welcome. Cozy probably meant tiny. Off-limits meant everything.

"Thanks," Ava said, aiming for polite. "I'll just take my things up."

The house was silent as she dragged her bags up the polished wooden stairs, each step echoing. Isabelle watched her, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips.

The room was small, overlooking the back garden. A single bed, a small desk. Definitely cozy.

Ava sank onto the bed. The silence of the house pressed in. She was an intruder here, a disruption to their perfect, wealthy lives.

Her dance scholarship application for Northwood was half-finished on her laptop. She needed it. Her English major felt like a distant dream. First, survival.

She had to make this work. For her mom' s memory. For herself.

A small, framed photo of her mom sat on top of her clothes in the suitcase. Ava picked it up.

"I'll be okay, Mom," she whispered. "I have to be."

Downstairs, she heard Brenda' s sharp laugh, then Isabelle' s lighter, conspiratorial tone.

They weren't just going to ignore her. They were going to make this hard.

Ava took a deep breath. Let them try.