Prologue
WYATT
Eleven Years Ago…
Swinging my legs back and forth, the pool water laps against the side of the pool. I lean back, letting the afternoon sun soak into my skin. The manor feels so big and empty, with only the sound of the fountain splashing and the occasional bird in the trees to remind me I’m not completely alone.
My parents have been gone for weeks. Left on some urgent business. As usual, I don’t know the details. It just sucks that it had to happen in the summer break and our trip to Mauritius was canceled.
"Master Wyatt?" A voice calls softly. I barely glance over to see Ms. Dee, one of the maids, standing a few feet away, holding a glass of lemonade. She’s nice enough, although her missing fingers freak me out, but not much of a talker. Just like all the others who work for the Hughes. Silent, obedient, always there but never really here.
I take the lemonade and mumble a thanks. She smiles politely, then walks away, her low heels clicking on the patio tiles. Nothing seems right anymore. The lemonade’s too sweet, and the sun is too bright. I’m sweating in my swim shorts, looking at the empty pool again. It’s big enough for my entire class to fit in, which the many pool parties have proven.
But when it’s only me, the pool is just a huge, lonely void. Sometimes Idive in just to make a splash, just to fill the silence, but today I don’t even feel like that.
I wish they were home. I wish I had something to do, someone to play with.
There’s only so much a ten-year-old can do in a house this big. I’ve already ridden my bike around the driveway more times than I can count, skimmed through the books in the library, and grew tired of playing video games in the theater room. When the end result is tucking myself into bed to stare at the ceiling, everything feels so pointless.
Maybe I’ll call Huxley and see if he’s finished with his photo shoot. Or practice gelling my hair back again. I find I like it that way, pushed back out of my green eyes. Or maybe?—
The faint sound of a car engine breaks through the stillness. I sit up straight, bending to look through the french double doors. The unmistakable hum of my parents’ Bentley drives into the underground garage. They’re home. Finally.
My heart races as I jump up and dash across the patio, wet feet slapping against the stone. I don’t even bother putting on shoes as I run through the sliding glass doors into the house, the cold marble floors a shock after the sun’s warmth. I skid around the corner and head toward the internal elevator doors, where the staff were already gathering.
The metallic doors glide open, revealing my parents, dressed in their usual perfect way. Mom’s in a sleek dress, sunglasses perched on top of her head, and Dad’s in one of his tailored suits, his smile the same one I see in magazines. I grin, excited to tell them all about my day, even if nothing much happened.
But something’s different this time.
They’re not alone.
Standing just behind them, clutching the handle of a small, filthy backpack, is a girl. She’s my age—around ten, I reckon. She’s thin, her blonde hair pulled back into a slick ponytail, and her big eyes are wide with fear. Her clothes look brand new, a little too big, like they’ve been picked out by a personal shopper. She doesn’t say anything; she just stares at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
I stop in my tracks, confused. I don’t know who she is or why she’s here. My parents don’t usually bring people home. At least, not kids.
“Wyatt,” Dad says, his voice warm and easy, like it always is whenhe’s about to announce something I’m not going to like. “We’ve got some news.” I glance between them and the girl. I don’t like surprises. Not ones I don’t understand, anyway.
“This is Avery,” Mom says gently, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She’s going to be staying with us from now on.”
“Staying with us?” I repeat, dumbfounded. I can’t figure out why, out of all the things they could bring home, it’s this quiet, scared girl. I’ve been asking for a puppy for months.
“She’s… well, she’s our daughter now,” Dad adds. As he looks at her, his smile softens in a way that makes my stomach flutter with unease. “We’ve adopted her.”
Adopted? I step back, my guard instantly up. How could they do this? Make such a big decision without me, uncaring of my opinion. Maybe I don’t want to share.
I continue to stare at the girl, Avery, wondering why she doesn’t have a home of her own. What could have happened to pull on my parent’s heartstrings so strongly? Actually, I don’t want to know.
She’s not like anyone I’ve ever seen before. Nothing like the girls in my class, with their perfect ponytails and expensive shoes. She’s nothing like me either. She’s… different.
But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way she’s gripping that backpack strap so tightly, like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Or maybe it’s the way her blue eyes flicker up to meet mine for the briefest second, filled with uncertainty and fear. Everything inside of me washes away, cleaning the slate of what I thought I knew.
She looks like she needs someone. And for some reason, an instant protective feeling sets in. I take a step forward, not sure what to say but wanting to say something. Anything.
“Hey,” I manage, my voice quieter than usual. “I’m Wyatt.”
She doesn’t reply right away; she just shifts on her feet, glancing at my parents as if waiting for permission to speak. Mom gives her a reassuring nod, and finally, Avery looks at me again, her lips parting as she whispers, “Hi.”
It’s just one word, but it’s enough. Enough to make me feel like I need to do more. Be more. I’ve never had a sister before. I don’t even know whatit means to have one. But looking at her now, standing there so small in this giant house, I decide that I want to try.
