1

On my eighteenth birthday, my stepbrother coaxed me into crossing a line we could never uncross.

He whispered promises against my skin, swore that he would take responsibility, that he would love me for a lifetime. In a haze of pain and adoration, I gave him everything. I foolishly thought I had finally caught happiness in my hands.

Then came the morning after.

My nude photos were plastered across every group chat in our prep school. They called me the "Fifty-Dollar Fix." A slut. A charity case with loose legs.

I went manic. I hunted Hayes down, screaming, needing to know why.

He just watched me unravel. He stood there with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing an insect, his expression curdled with disgust.

"Because of you, Lily is dead," he said, his voice flat. "This is your penance."

Lily was his biological sister.

And I was the reason she was in the ground.

2

The photos spread like a virus. By second period, everyone had seen them.

I found Hayes in the student lounge. I was hyperventilating, my mind a fractured kaleidoscope of panic and confusion.

"Hayes, please," I choked out. "Tell me this is a mistake. Tell me..."

"Don't say my name," he cut in. The warmth from last night—the heat of his body, the tenderness—was gone, replaced by a glacial hatred. "You don't deserve to speak it."

He stepped closer, looming over me. "If it wasn't for you—if your mother hadn't clawed her way into my father's house—Lily would still be here. Every time I look at you, I see the life she didn't get to live. Why do you get to breathe when she’s rotting in a box?"

He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my jaw with bruising force, forcing me to look at him.

"You’re the one who should be dead, Raine."

I stared into his eyes—eyes that, just hours ago, had looked at me with what I thought was love. I remembered his heavy breathing, the way he’d buried his face in my neck and whispered, Raine, I love you. I’ve got you.

Was it all a lie? A performance?

Tears spilled over, hot and humiliating, landing on his cold hand. He flinched, his grip loosening just a fraction.

"Hayes..." I whispered, grabbing the hem of his cashmere sweater like a lifeline. "Did you ever love me? Even a little?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. He studied me, dissecting my misery.

"No," he finally said. "Every second I touched you, I felt sick."

The air left my lungs. It was a long con. A meticulously crafted execution. I was the only one who had fallen.

"I see," I managed to say, my voice breaking. "I’m sorry."

He released me abruptly. I collapsed onto the floor, my legs giving out.

"Stop acting like a victim, Raine," he sneered, turning his back on me. "Your real punishment hasn't even started yet."

He walked away fast, almost as if he were running.

I wiped my face, sitting alone in the middle of the hallway. Do you hate me that much, Hayes?

I owed Lily a life. If I gave him mine, would that finally balance the ledger?

3

I was seven when I first walked into the Ashcroft estate.

I trailed behind my mother, terrified to scuff the marble floors. It looked like a museum, not a home.

"Hah."

I looked up to the mezzanine. A boy stood there, looking like a dark prince in a black turtleneck. He was beautiful and terrifying.

"So this is the mistress and her baggage," he said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "Dad really scraped the bottom of the barrel."

My mother went pale. I just stared at my shoes, wishing my hair was long enough to hide my face.

"Hayes! Don't be mean!"

A girl in a velvet dress burst out from behind him, beaming like a little sun.

"I'm Lily," she chirped, running down the stairs. "That’s my brother, Hayes. He’s grumpy. What’s your name?"

I tugged at my fraying sweater. "Raine," I whispered.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the boy. "Hayes, say hi to Raine. Be nice."

Hayes looked at his sister with a softness that transformed his entire face. He sighed, defeated by her joy, and extended a hand to me.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," I said.

His palm was warm. It made my heart race.

With Lily as the bridge, the ice between us melted. Hayes wasn't just cold; he was protective, intense, and secretly kind. He took us to the coast in the summers. He planted camellias in the garden because I said I liked them. On my birthdays, he arranged fireworks over the bay.

I fell in love with him in slow motion, over a decade of stolen glances.

Lily knew. She was my biggest cheerleader.

"He loves you too, Raine," she’d whispered, winking. "I'm going to set the stage. You just get dressed up. We’re going to surprise him."

She skipped out the door to buy roses for my confession.

She never came back.

The police call came two hours later. They found her in an alley three blocks away. She had been assaulted, brutalized, and discarded. Red rose petals were scattered over her body like blood.

At the funeral, Hayes didn't cry. He just vibrated with rage. When he finally looked at me, something in him had died.

"Why was she alone?" he asked. "Why was she buying roses?"

"Because I wanted them," I sobbed, falling apart. "It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Hayes."

He stared at me for a long time. Then he asked the question that would haunt us both forever.

"Why wasn't it you?"

4

The school bulletin boards were covered in screenshots.

My naked body, printed on glossy paper.

People whispered as I walked by. Teachers looked at me with that pitying disappointment that hurts worse than anger. The scholarship kid showed her true colors, their eyes said.

I walked to my locker like a zombie. If this humiliation was the tax I had to pay for Lily’s death, I would pay it.

My locker was vandalized in red marker: Slut. Trash. Try-hard.

When I opened it, the smell hit me first. Garbage. Used condoms. Before I could react, a dead, bloody rat fell out, landing in my hair.

I screamed, stumbling back and falling hard.

Laughter erupted around me.

"Look at her," someone jeered. "God, she's pathetic."

"I heard fifty bucks gets you the full tour," Trent, the captain of the lacrosse team, sneered. He walked up to me, crouched down, and shoved a hundred-dollar bill down my shirt. "Here's a hundo. Double time tonight?"

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I slapped him. Hard.

The hallway went silent. Trent’s face twisted. He shoved me backward, and my head cracked against the corner of a trophy case. Warm blood trickled down my neck.

"You ungrateful bitch," he spat. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the boys' bathroom.

He ripped my shirt. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

"Hayes?" Trent’s voice wavered. "What are you doing here?"

I opened my eyes. Hayes was standing there, watching. He looked bored.

"Disgusting," he said.

The word pierced me deeper than any knife.

"Carry on," Hayes said, waving a hand dismissively. He turned to leave.

"Hayes!" I screamed, crawling toward him, grabbing his ankle. "Please. Help me. Take me with you."

He looked down at me, his eyes devoid of humanity.

"I bet Lily wanted someone to take her away, too," he said softly. "This is what you owe her, Raine. Feel what she felt."

He kicked his leg free and walked away.

I collapsed on the dirty tile floor, sobbing until my chest felt like it would cave in. Even Trent stopped, looking unnerved by the sheer depth of my brokenness.

I hallucinated Lily holding my hand, Hayes smiling at us. But it was just smoke.