Chapter 2

The doctor said it was pneumonia. Severe. The neglect from that night in the Nor’easter had taken its toll. I had dragged myself to the campus clinic, barely able to walk. Now I was in a small, sterile room at Blackwood General Hospital. Alone. Ethan had sent a text: *‘Heard you’re in the hospital. So sorry! Chloe’s having a tough day, needs me. Will try to swing by later. Get well soon! Xo’* The ‘Xo’ felt like a cruel joke.

I drifted in and out of a feverish sleep. During a moment of clarity, I heard voices in the hallway. Mark Harrison’s booming laugh. "Yeah, Chloe’s the real deal," Mark was saying to someone. "Blackwood material, through and through. We always knew she was special. Maya? Oh, she was just… you know. A placeholder. Did well enough, I guess, but Chloe’s got the actual Harrison spark." A placeholder. The word echoed in my head, each syllable a hammer blow. My foster brother. He’d never been warm, but this casual cruelty… it stole the air from my lungs.

Later, a nurse helped me to the restroom. As I slowly walked back, leaning heavily on the IV stand, I passed an open door. A private suite. Inside, Ethan was sitting by a bed, spoon-feeding soup to someone. Chloe. She looked pale, yes, but not particularly ill. She was propped up against fluffy pillows, a cashmere throw over her legs. "Oh, Ethan, you’re too good to me," Chloe sighed, her voice delicate. "I was just so exhausted from all the excitement." Ethan smiled tenderly at her. "Anything for you, Chloe. You just focus on getting your strength back." He dabbed her lips with a napkin. The scene was so intimate, so caring. A stark contrast to his brief, distracted text to me. He hadn’t even come to see me. Not once. But here he was, doting on Chloe for "exhaustion." The pain in my chest wasn't just the pneumonia anymore. It was something deeper, sharper.

The next day, Mark Harrison appeared in my doorway. His face was a mask of disapproval. "Maya," he said, his voice cold. "We need to talk." I just looked at him, too weak to respond. "Chloe is very upset," he continued, stepping into the room. "She thinks you’re angry with her. That you’re trying to make her feel bad." "Make her feel bad?" I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Mark, I’m the one in the hospital with pneumonia." "Don’t try to play the victim," he snapped. "This is just like that time with the lake house, isn't it?"

The lake house. Two years ago. Chloe hadn't "returned" yet. The Harrisons had a small boat. Mark had been careless, hadn't secured it properly. It drifted off. Somehow, I got blamed. Susan had said I was "distracted" and "irresponsible." David had lectured me for an hour about respecting other people's property. Mark had just smirked. It was always like that. If something went wrong, Maya was the easy scapegoat.

"I did nothing wrong then, and I'm doing nothing wrong now," I said, finding a sliver of strength. "I'm sick because your future brother-in-law left me in a snowstorm." Mark’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t you dare blame Ethan. He was taking care of Chloe. His priority. And frankly, Maya, who do you think you are? You’re a foster kid we took in. Chloe is blood. She’s our sister." "I was engaged to Ethan," I said, my voice trembling. "I was part of this family." "Were you?" Mark sneered. "Or were you just convenient? Someone to make us look good? Someone to keep Ethan occupied until someone better came along?" His words were brutal, designed to inflict maximum damage. "We only tolerate you now, Maya, because kicking you out while Chloe is settling in would cause a scandal. Bad PR. Once she’s established, once she has the Nova Fellowship, you’ll be ancient history." A scandal. Bad PR. That’s all I was to them. A potential embarrassment to be managed. Not a daughter. Not even a person. The room started to spin. The effort of talking, the weight of his cruelty, it was too much. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I heard Mark’s voice, distant and distorted, "Oh, for God’s sake, don’t be so dramatic." Then, nothing. I collapsed.