Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
LIA'S POV
The smoke alarm started screaming before Amelia Carter could save the cake.
“Somebody turn that thing off!”
“I’m trying!”
“You’re pressing the light switch!”
“I KNOW!”
Lia slapped the correct button with the palm of her hand. The alarm finally stopped, leaving behind a ringing silence and the unmistakable smell of burnt sugar.
She stood in the middle of her mother’s dining room with a wooden spoon in one hand and a tea towel hanging over her shoulder.
Across the table, her cousin Daniel stared at the cake.
Then at her.
Then back at the cake.
“Is that supposed to look like that?”
Lia slowly turned her head.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Think carefully about your next sentence.”
His lips pressed together.
He failed.
“It looks like a crime scene.”
Lia threw the tea towel at him.
He ducked, laughing.
“Amelia!”
Her mother’s voice came from the other end of the table.
Lia closed her eyes.
Of course.
She turned.
Her mother, Evelyn Carter, stood beside the dining table with one hand resting against her hip, staring at the birthday cake as though Lia had personally offended the entire baking industry.
“Mum.”
“What happened?”
“The cake caught fire.”
“I can see that.”
“Then we're both caught up.”
Daniel made a choking noise.
Lia pointed the spoon at him.
“Don't.”
Her older sister Vivian was sitting beside their father, beautifully dressed in a fitted green dress, her dark hair falling neatly over one shoulder.
Unlike Lia, Vivian looked as though she'd been born knowing what to do with her hair.
And makeup.
And clothes.
And life.
Vivian pressed her lips together.
Lia narrowed her eyes.
“Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm cold.”
“We're indoors.”
Vivian lost the battle and burst out laughing.
Lia stared at her.
“You're horrible.”
“You put the candles beside the napkins.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I put them on the cake.”
“Which was beside the napkins.”
“That's where cakes normally are.”
Vivian wiped under one eye.
Lia hated that she was laughing too.
She glanced down at the cake.
One corner of the frosting had melted into a sad puddle. The strawberries had darkened around the edges, and the tiny icing flowers she'd carefully arranged were now leaning sideways like they'd all received terrible news.
Her mother sighed.
“It's fine.”
Lia looked at her.
“Mum, it is smoking.”
“Then stop touching it.”
“I was trying to save it.”
“From what?”
“Fire?”
Her mother stared.
Lia stared back.
Vivian covered her mouth.
“Stop laughing,” Lia muttered.
“I’m not laughing.”
“You're doing that silent laugh.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You look like a kettle.”
Vivian finally gave up.
Their father didn't even glance up from his phone.
“Can we please have one family dinner without Amelia creating a disaster?”
Lia's smile disappeared.
There it was.
She looked at the ruined cake.
Then at him.
“I didn't create the disaster.”
Her father finally looked up.
“The cake didn't set itself on fire.”
“I didn't set it on fire either.”
“Then who did?”
Lia opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Daniel suddenly became very interested in his plate.
Vivian's eyebrows lifted.
Lia pointed toward the kitchen.
“I need a new cake.”
Her mother sighed.
“You don't have to make another one.”
“I'll fix it.”
“Amelia—”
“I said I'll fix it.”
She picked up the plate.
The words came out automatically.
I'll fix it.
She said them so often she'd stopped noticing.
The cake.
Her father's paperwork.
Her mother's errands.
Vivian's forgotten appointments.
The leaking tap.
The late bills.
The family problems nobody wanted to claim.
Lia fixed things.
That was what she did.
She made it work.
She disappeared into the kitchen, and Vivian followed.
“You know,” Vivian said, leaning against the counter, “one day you should just let something remain broken.”
Lia opened the refrigerator.
“Are you volunteering to explain that to Mum?”
“No.”
“Then congratulations. Your opinion has been rejected.”
Vivian grinned.
Lia pulled out whipped cream.
Vivian's grin faded slightly.
“You're doing it again.”
Lia stopped.
“Doing what?”
“Pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
Vivian gave her a look.
Lia hated that look.
Not because it was judgmental.
Because it wasn't.
Vivian knew her too well.
Lia turned toward the counter and started repairing the cake.
“I'm fine.”
“I didn't ask.”
“You were about to.”
“I wasn't.”
“You had the face.”
“What face?”
“The sister face.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“You're impossible.”
“And yet you keep following me around.”
“Because someone has to stop you from burning Mum's second cake.”
Lia looked over her shoulder.
“That's love.”
“That's self-preservation.”
Lia laughed.
Vivian smiled.
For a moment, everything was easy again.
That was the dangerous thing about Vivian.
She could make Lia forget every little irritation with one stupid joke.
They'd grown up together.
Shared clothes.
Shared secrets.
Shared bedrooms when they were younger.
Vivian knew which songs Lia secretly loved and which foods she hated. She knew Lia cried when she was angry rather than sad. She knew Lia became sarcastic whenever she was hurt.
Lia trusted her.
Completely.
“Ready?” Vivian asked.
Lia looked at the cake.
“It looks respectable.”
“That's generous.”
“Shut up.”
They carried it back into the dining room.
Her mother smiled.
Her father checked his watch.
Lia barely sat down before he pushed a folder across the table toward her.
“Amelia.”
She looked at the folder.
Then at him.
“What?”
“These need to get to the office tonight.”
Her smile slowly disappeared.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Dad, it's Mum's birthday.”
“I know.”
“And you want me to deliver paperwork?”
“It's important.”
Lia stared at him.
Her mother suddenly became very interested in cutting the cake.
Vivian's eyes moved between them.
“Can't someone else take it?” Lia asked.
Her father leaned back.
“Do you have somewhere else to be?”
Lia's fingers tightened around the folder.
She had plans.
Nothing dramatic.
She'd wanted to go home early, order food, watch something stupid, and spend an evening doing absolutely nothing for somebody else.
But explaining that felt childish.
So she smiled.
“Of course not.”
Vivian's eyes narrowed.
Lia saw it.
That tiny movement.
That don't do this to yourself look.
Lia ignored it.
“Fine.”
She pulled the folder closer.
Her father nodded and returned to his conversation.
Just like that.
Lia looked around the table.
Her mother was laughing at something her aunt had said.
Daniel was stealing frosting.
Vivian was watching her.
Lia gave her sister a tiny smile.
I'm okay.
Vivian didn't smile back.
Instead, she reached beneath the table and nudged Lia's ankle with her foot.
Lia looked at her.
Vivian mouthed, “You owe me cake.”
Lia almost laughed.
Almost.
Then she picked up her fork.
“Daniel.”
He froze.
“What?”
“Give me the strawberry.”
“Which one?”
“The one you stole.”
“I didn't steal anything.”
Lia reached across the table.
Daniel protected his plate.
“Don't you dare.”
“Give it.”
“It's mine.”
“You're eating my emotional support fruit.”
“That's not a thing.”
“It is now.”
Vivian started laughing again.
This time Lia joined her.
Her father shook his head.
Her mother smiled.
And for a few minutes, the Carter family looked perfectly normal.
Lia didn't know that normal was already slipping through her fingers.
She didn't know that the sister sitting beside her would one day have a secret capable of changing everything.
She didn't know that the family she had spent years trying to please would eventually become the family she couldn't bear to look at.
For now, she only knew that her cake was ruined, her father had given her more work, and Daniel was eating her strawberry.
Honestly?
That was enough betrayal for one evening.
Lia reached across the table.
Daniel screamed.
“NO!”
“Give me my strawberry!”
“Someone help!”
Vivian nearly fell out of her chair laughing.
And Lia laughed too.
She didn't know yet that she would one day miss the sound of it.
