Chapter 2

The pressure of the last few months had taken its toll. The constant stress, the lack of sleep, the emotional drain of being the family scapegoat-it all crashed down on me at once. As I walked out of the office to deliver my forced apology, a wave of dizziness washed over me. The polished floors seemed to tilt, and the bright lights of the hallway splintered into a thousand sharp points. My knees buckled, and the world went black before I hit the ground.

I came to with a sharp gasp, the scent of antiseptic filling my nose. I was on a couch in the break room. Ethan was crouched beside me, a rare flicker of concern in his eyes.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been in months.

For a split second, a foolish hope sparked in my chest. Maybe he did still care. Maybe this was the wake-up call he needed.

"You' ve been working too hard," he continued, and the hope died as quickly as it came. "Pushing yourself like this just to get attention isn' t healthy. You really scared Chloe."

My heart twisted. Even now, after I collapsed, his first thought was of her. The brief concern was just an annoyance, a disruption to his perfect world with Chloe at the center.

"I didn' t do it for attention," I mumbled, my head throbbing.

He sighed, a sound of pure frustration. "Whatever, Sarah. Just rest. You' re no good to anyone like this."

He stood up, his brief moment of care evaporating. As he left, I closed my eyes, and a memory surfaced, warm and comforting. I was ten years old, sick with the flu. My mom had just married Robert, and we were all still learning how to be a family. I remember Ethan, a lanky teenager of fifteen, sitting by my bed for hours. He' d brought me a bowl of soup, blowing on each spoonful himself so I wouldn' t burn my tongue. He had read to me from my favorite book until I fell asleep, his hand resting gently on my forehead to check my fever.

"You have to get better soon, little fish," he had whispered. "The pool is waiting for you."

That was his nickname for me, little fish. Because I was born to be in the water. He and Caleb used to be my biggest cheerleaders, their proud shouts echoing in the natatorium at every one of my meets.

A hand on my shoulder startled me back to the present. It was Caleb. He was holding a bottle of water and a small bag of crackers. He looked guilty, his eyes darting around the room as if he was afraid of being seen with me.

"Here," he said, placing the items on the table beside me. "You should eat something."

He touched my forehead, a fleeting, hesitant gesture. "You don' t have a fever." His touch was gentle, a ghost of the way Ethan used to care for me. For a moment, he just looked at me, a flicker of the old Caleb in his eyes, the sweet, insecure boy who used to follow me around and ask for swimming lessons.

But then he pulled his hand back as if he' d been burned. His expression hardened, mimicking Ethan' s.

"You know, this is probably for the best," he said, his tone shifting to one of cold logic. "You collapsed. That means you' re clearly not fit for the high-stress work at the agency right now."

I stared at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Ethan and I decided. Chloe is launching her first solo project, a promotional tour for a new line of athletic wear. She' s going to need a personal assistant to handle her schedule, her meals, everything. It' s a less demanding job. You' ll do that for a while. It will be your punishment for messing up today, and it will give you time to get your act together."

Punishment. The word hung in the air between us. My punishment for collapsing from exhaustion, brought on by their relentless pressure and cruelty, was to become a servant to the very person who caused it all. It was so perfectly, horribly ironic.

The timer in my head had vanished when I passed out, but the system' s voice returned, calm and dispassionate. [New objective assigned: Serve as Chloe Davis' s personal assistant for the duration of her promotional tour. Countdown to final erasure will resume upon completion of this objective.]

So, this was my final task. A final, deep dive into humiliation before I was finally free.

I looked at Caleb, at the brother I had packed lunches for and helped with homework. There was no trace of that boy left. In his place was a stranger wearing his face.

"Okay," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "I' ll do it."

He looked relieved, as if he' d expected a fight. He gave a sharp nod and left without another word.

I lay on the couch, the crackers and water untouched. I stared at the ceiling and began my own countdown. Not the system' s countdown to my erasure, but my own. A countdown to my rebirth. Only a little while longer.