Chapter 1

It was Christmas Eve, and my parents ditched me again.

Triple holiday pay, they said.

For twenty years, this had been their excuse.

But not this year.

I wasn’t spending another Christmas alone, staring at the blinking lights of our plastic tree.

I grabbed a casserole dish of mac and cheese I’d made earlier and decided to go find them.

When I found them, I froze.

The same parents who claimed they were “grinding to make ends meet” stepped out of a shiny black Mercedes, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Flanked by a guy about my age, they strolled arm in arm into a five-star restaurant like they owned the place.

“Seriously, Mom? Dad?” I called out, my voice shaking as I ran up to them.

“You’re just leaving me alone on Christmas for this?”

Mom didn’t even flinch.

“Oh, Emma, sweetie, you’re fine. You’ve always been fine.”

Dad, on the other hand, shrugged.

“Emma, Jason’s different. He’s our golden boy. You know that.”

I couldn’t process it. Jason?

Who the hell was Jason?

I didn’t wait for an explanation.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

If they wanted to live their lives playing pretend, fine.

I didn’t need their fake love anymore.

After hanging up the phone, Dad walked over to me, pulling a crisp $50 bill out of his wallet. “Emma, something came up at work. I’ve got to head out.”

Mom gave me her usual reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll go with you to Grandpa’s. We’ll still have a nice time.”

I nodded, taking the money and slipping it into my coat pocket without much thought.

Then I followed Mom out the door, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my gut.

When we got to Grandpa’s place, the warmth of the house hit me like a blanket.

Grandpa opened the door and pulled me into a tight hug the moment he saw me.

“Emma! There you are! Come on in—it’s freezing out there.”

His hands felt soft and smooth, nothing like the rough, calloused hands you’d expect from someone who supposedly worked in a steel mill his entire life.

The house was cozy, the kind of place you’d expect for a retired blue-collar worker.

Grandpa always said he’d worked himself to the bone to provide for the family.

But as I looked around, noticing the pristine furniture and the faint smell of fresh-baked bread, I couldn’t help but feel like something didn’t add up.

Grandma bustled in from the kitchen, beaming.

“There’s my girl! Merry Christmas, Emma,” she said, handing me a little card.

“Thanks, Grandma,” I said, tucking the card into my pocket.

I knew what was inside—probably a crisp $20 bill, the same as every year.

But this time, I didn’t automatically hand it over to Mom like I used to.

Mom watched me with a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

Usually, I’d give her the money without hesitation, and she’d pat me on the shoulder and say, “Emma’s always been so thoughtful.”

Not today.

Even Grandma paused for a moment, then chuckled.

“Well, looks like Emma’s finally keeping her Christmas money. Good for you, sweetheart!”

I forced a small smile.

“Mom says it’s time for me to start saving for myself. New year, new habits, right?”

Mom’s smile tightened, but she didn’t say anything.

Grandma nodded approvingly.

“Smart girl. You’ve always been so responsible. Paying for your own school and everything.”

Her words stung more than I expected.

I’d been paying for everything—tuition, rent, food—since I turned 18. And for what?

To help out my “struggling” parents while they drove around in luxury cars and laughed over five-star dinners?

Grandma disappeared into the kitchen to finish lunch, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

When we sat down to eat, the meal was exactly what you’d expect—roast beef, mashed potatoes, and a green bean casserole.

But as soon as I took my first bite, I froze.

The roast beef tasted exactly like the one I’d seen at that five-star restaurant last night.

I put my fork down, my appetite gone.

They’d been lying to me this whole time. About everything.

After lunch, Mom’s phone buzzed, and she excused herself, claiming she needed to take a work call.

Grandpa and Grandma started yawning, making it clear that it was time for me to leave.

I grabbed my coat and walked out the door, but I didn’t go far.

Instead, I slipped around the corner and waited.

Sure enough, less than twenty minutes later, a black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the house.

A group of people—drivers, assistants, maybe even security—swarmed the front porch.

Grandpa and Grandma stepped out like they were Hollywood royalty, laughing as they climbed into the car.

They didn’t even look back.

I stayed hidden, watching as the limo disappeared down the street.

After they were gone, I walked back toward the house.

A couple of cleaning staff were standing by the curb, chatting while they worked.

“This family’s so weird,” one of them said, shaking her head.

“They show up once a year, cook a meal, and leave like they’re playing house or something.”

“Yeah, but the tips they leave? Insane,” the other replied.

“You know they’ve got a mansion up in Crestwood Hills, right? This place is just for show."

"It’s like some rich-people fantasy to pretend they’re middle-class.”

Hearing that, my stomach twisted into knots.

They’d been playing me for years.

All those nights when they said we couldn’t afford anything, when I skipped meals to save money for tuition—they’d been living a lie.

I hopped on my bike and headed toward Crestwood Hills, my heart pounding with every turn of the pedals.

When I finally got there, I stopped at the base of a winding driveway.

The mansion was massive, perched on a hill with a view of the entire city. The sprawling lawn was perfectly manicured, and the whole place was surrounded by a high, wrought-iron fence. Security guards stood at the gate, watching every move.

I started walking toward them, but the second they saw me, one of them stepped forward, barking.

“Hey! This is private property. Turn around and leave.”

I clenched my fists, taking a shaky breath as I turned to go.

That’s when I heard it—the low rumble of a motorcycle.

A sleek black Ducati roared past me and through the gates, the rider barely glancing in my direction.

I knew that bike.

It was all over Instagram—custom-built, worth at least $200,000.

And the rider?

Jason Blake.

I stared after him, the pieces finally clicking into place.

So, this was the life my parents had been hiding from me.

And apparently, Jason was at the center of it.

Chapter 2

He saw me.

For a split second, he looked surprised, but then his expression shifted into a smirk.

He stopped his motorcycle and gave me a once-over, like I was some kind of stray dog that had wandered into his territory.

“Well, look who figured it out,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery.

“Not as clueless as I thought, huh?”

I froze. He knew. He knew who I was.

“Why?” My voice cracked as I stared at him.

“Why would they do this?”

“Jason,” I said, my voice rising, “am I some kind of adopted charity case?"

"Or—what? Some messed-up science experiment you’re all running?”

Jason tilted his head, watching me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved. Then he raised one finger, wagging it back and forth. “Nope. You’re one of us. Flesh and blood. The real deal.”

I blinked, stunned, as he continued, his smirk growing colder.

“And you wanna know why you got the short end of the stick?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping into something almost gleeful.

“Because I’m the heir. I’m the only one who matters. You?” He scoffed.

“You’re just… extra.”

I stared at him, the words not quite registering.

“You’re a minute older than me,” he said, almost spitting the words.

“One lousy minute. And for that, you think you get to compete with me? This?”

He waved a hand toward the mansion behind him.

“This isn’t your place. So do us both a favor and go back to whatever little corner of the world you crawled out of.”

I clenched my fists, swallowing the lump in my throat as he continued, clearly enjoying himself.

“Oh, and don’t give me that pathetic look. Mom and Dad raised you, didn’t they?"

"You didn’t starve, right? That counts for something.”

He started up his bike again, revving the engine before throwing one last line over his shoulder.

“By the way, stop bothering Grandpa and Grandma."

"They’re too old for this little drama of yours. Stay in your lane.”

With that, Jason sped off toward the mansion gates, leaving me standing there, stunned and breathless.

I stayed rooted in place for a long moment, staring at the house, at the pristine driveway, at the life I was clearly never meant to be a part of.

All this time, I’d thought maybe I was the problem—that I wasn’t good enough for them to love. But now?

Now, I realized I was never even in the running.

I turned and walked away.

Back at home, I picked up my phone and called Dad.

“Dad, are you coming home for dinner tonight?”

I asked, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

“Sorry, Emma,” he said, sounding distracted.

“I’m working late tonight. Triple holiday pay, you know how it is. Your mom’s working, too.”

In the background, I could hear the unmistakable rumble of Jason’s motorcycle.

I let out a soft “mm-hmm” before hanging up, my decision already made.

I packed my bags that night.

I didn’t have much—just a few clothes and the essentials.

Before leaving, I printed out the photo I’d taken of Jason on his Ducati and set it on my nightstand, like a final goodbye to the life I thought I had.

I’d seen a flyer for a long-term research project out west—a three-year program in the middle of nowhere, totally isolated. Perfect.

By the time the sun came up, I was gone.

They didn’t even notice.

I called Dad one more time, just to see if he’d pick up. He didn’t.

Meanwhile, online, their company—Blake Enterprises—was the talk of the town.

Employees were posting about their Christmas bonuses: cash, luxury watches, even cars.

One woman bragged about getting a $5,000 check “just for showing up.”

Photos from the company holiday party were everywhere.

My parents were in the spotlight, Dad in a sharp suit, Mom holding a glass of wine, her makeup flawless.

Jason stood beside them, grinning like the king of the world.

There was even a family photo.

The three of them, smiling for the cameras.

Not a single mention of me.

Reporters interviewed them at the party.

Someone asked Dad about their holiday plans.

“This year, my son Jason turns twenty-two,” he said, beaming.

“We have a tradition—every year, we take a family trip. We’re actually heading out tonight!”

I felt the words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I was twenty-two, too.

My “family trip”? A third-grade field trip to the local zoo.

I laughed bitterly, grabbed my passport, and ran my fingers over the cover.

The day I turned eighteen, they’d transferred my name out of their family records and into some random college housing roster.

“You’re an adult now,” they’d said.

“Time to take care of yourself.”

Well, now it was their turn to take care of themselves.

I grabbed my suitcase, took one last look at the empty house, and walked out the door.

“Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom,” I whispered.

This time, I meant it.

Chapter 3

William Blake, Crestwood Hills’ wealthiest resident, took his wife and son Jason on a week-long vacation.

Not once during that trip did he bother to call me.

On the last day of their vacation, something must have jogged his memory, because he finally picked up his phone and tried.

Too bad for him, my number was no longer in service.

By that point, I’d already started my new life at the research lab, locked away in a facility where no one could reach me.

William stared at his phone, confused by the unanswered calls.

“Why isn’t Emma picking up?” he muttered.

“She’s probably busy with work,” Rachel, my mom, offered.

“Didn’t she say she picked up a couple of extra tutoring jobs? She must be swamped.”

William sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Do you think we were too hard on her? I mean, look at Jason, and then look at her."

"Same age, but she’s been working nonstop her entire life.”

Rachel shrugged.

“Emma’s tough. She can handle herself."

"She doesn’t need us checking in on her all the time. That’s a good thing, right?”

William nodded.

“She’s independent, that’s for sure. I guess I should feel proud, but… sometimes I wonder if we went too far.”

When they got home, something immediately felt off.

The house was eerily quiet.

“Why didn’t Emma clean up?” William asked, frowning as he noticed the layer of dust on the furniture and floors.

The old house was right by the highway, so dust collected fast.

Normally, I’d have cleaned everything before they returned.

“Maybe she’s just tired,” Rachel suggested.

“Let’s talk to her when she gets back."

"We’ll tell her we got a nice bonus and she doesn’t need to work so hard anymore.”

William gave her a sideways glance.

“You’re feeling guilty, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “She’s my daughter too, you know.”

“Well, let’s get this place tidied up. She might be out, but she’ll be back soon,” William said, rolling up his sleeves.

Rachel hesitated, her voice dropping.

“Are you sure she even believed us this time?"

"Telling her we were working late over Christmas again… it’s starting to feel cruel.”

William waved her off.

“She’s believed it every other year. Why would this year be any different?”

But as Rachel walked into my room, her heart nearly stopped.

“William!” she called out, her voice shaking.

“Get in here!”

He rushed in, alarmed, and followed her gaze to the photo on my nightstand—a picture of Jason on his motorcycle, the one I’d taken the last time I saw him.

“She’s been to the mansion,” Rachel whispered, her face pale.

“When?” William demanded, grabbing his phone.

He dialed my number again, only to be met with the same automated message: “This number is no longer in service.”

Frustrated, he called Jason.

When Jason picked up, he sounded as smug as ever.

“Yeah, she came by about a week ago,” Jason said, clearly unconcerned.

“I told her everything. Figured it was better to get it over with.”

William’s voice rose, furious.

“You what? You weren’t supposed to talk to her! Do you even realize what you’ve done? She’s completely cut us off!”

Jason scoffed.

“Good. She was always the problem, wasn’t she?"

"You raised her like she was nothing, just like the plan, and now she’s out of our way."

"I’m the only one who matters now, so why are you freaking out?”

“Jason, you have no idea what you’ve done!” William shouted.

Rachel, standing nearby, burst into tears.

“What are we going to do? She knows we’ve been lying to her this whole time. She’s going to hate us forever!”

Jason’s voice on the line turned colder.

“She doesn’t matter. She never did."

"Remember what the consultant said when she was born?"

"That she’d bring bad luck to me? You should be happy. She’s gone now, so it’s a win-win.”

William slammed the phone down, too angry to speak.

Rachel buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

“We ruined everything. She’ll never forgive us.”

Meanwhile, I was in the lab, completely unaware of the chaos back home.

The experiments were grueling and slow.

We’d run the same tests over and over again, trying to get results that felt just out of reach.

My phone had been turned in the day I arrived, locked away with everyone else’s to ensure total focus and isolation.

No calls.

No distractions.

No contact with the Blakes.

And honestly?

I preferred it that way.