disasters when they aren’t their own.
Lena tilted her head gently, pretending innocence. “Twins,” she said softly. “Born last week. We didn’t want to ruin your special day, Maya.”
My father’s face drained of color.
My mother covered her mouth.
But my stepmother—the woman who adopted Lena when we were teenagers—just stood there watching me with that thin, satisfied smile she always wore whenever Lena hurt me.
The smile that said:
See? She wins again.
And suddenly I was sixteen all over again.
Lena stealing my clothes.
Lena flirting with
