Chapter 3
ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW
I swirled the champagne in my crystal flute, watching the bubbles dance. Victory tasted sweet, just like I'd imagined all these years. The living room of my penthouse apartment overlooked the city where I'd spent twenty years pretending to be the perfect adopted daughter, the loving sister, the supportive friend.
What a joke.
"To freedom," I whispered to my reflection in the window. The woman staring back at me smiled, perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect lies. Just like always.
My phone buzzed again. Another missed call from Stefan. He'd been calling non- stop since Camille walked out, probably worried I'd change my mind now that everything was in the open. Poor, predictable Stefan. Still thinking he was in control of any of this.
I kicked off my Louboutins and sank into the leather couch, letting memories wash over me like warm wine.
The first time I saw Camille Lewis, I hated her.
I was thirteen, fresh out of foster care, desperate to please my new parents. They'd brought me to this massive house with its manicured lawn and marble floors, promising me a fresh start. A real family.
Then this skinny thing with braces and messy hair came bouncing down the stairs, all eager smiles and innocent eyes.
"Hi! I'm Camille. I've always wanted a sister!"
She hugged me right there in the foyer, not caring that my clothes were
secondhand or that I smelled like the group home's industrial detergent. Just pure, genuine joy at having a sister.
I wanted to vomit.
Because there she was, this awkward, imperfect girl who had everything I'd spent thirteen years dreaming about. Parents who actually wanted her. A home she belonged in. A future secured by the Lewis family name.
didn't even appreciate
watched how she slouched in her chair and talked with her mouth full. How she
Mom..... had said, smiling at me.
in Camille's perfect world. The slight dimming
It was beautiful.
present. Stefan's face lit up my
"Darling, you're being needy."
Had he been drinking? "She's gone.
tone I'd used all those times I'd counseled Camille through her marital problems. Problems
just... the way
sweetness. "Are you having second thoughts? After
course not. I love
about
aside. Men were so predictably weak. Even Stefan, who I'd spent four years grooming before pushing him toward Camille, still needed constant
Just like everyone else in
eye, my adoption day. I stood in the center, of course. Always the center. Camille pushed to the edge of the frame, trying so hard to
had been easy. Almost too
about
the achievable dream,
particularly inspired, if I do say so myself. All it took was one tearful conversation with Mom about finding Camille's "secret" diary, filled with dark thoughts and destructive plans. Plans I'd written myself, of course, in Camille's childish handwriting
wasn't ready for college. Needed time to "find herself." Needed to stay close
I could watch
champagne, savoring the moment. Because this, this was what I'd really wanted all along. Not
to watch perfect, precious Camille finally break. To see her realize that everything she thought she had
with a text from Mom: "Rose, darling, please come over. Your father
my performance. The tearful confusion, the reluctant
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