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.

even

full. How she didn't know

said, smiling at me. "Perhaps you could learn from

Camille's perfect world. The slight dimming of her smile, the way she sat up

It was beautiful.

phone buzzed again, pulling me back to the present. Stefan's face lit up

"Darling, you're being needy."

was rough. Had he been drinking? "She's

that what we wanted?" I kept my voice gentle, soothing. The same tone I'd used all those times I'd counseled Camille through her marital problems. Problems

just... the way she

into my sweetness. "Are you having second thoughts? After

I love you.

stop calling me about your

who I'd

like

family photo on my mantel caught my eye, my adoption day. I stood in the center, of course.

it had been easy. Almost

Camille was unstable. A few concerned conversations with Mom about how worried I was about my dear sister's emotional

of careful groundwork, positioning myself as the responsible daughter, the achievable dream, while slowly

Mom about finding Camille's "secret"

daughter wasn't ready for college. Needed time to "find herself." Needed to stay close to home where

could

was what I'd really wanted all along. Not Stefan, he was just a useful pawn. Not the

what I wanted was to watch perfect, precious Camille finally break. To see her realize that everything she thought she

please come

already planning my performance. The tearful confusion, the reluctant confession about Stefan's pursuit, the gentle concern about Camille's mental

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