Chapter 1

The day I was diagnosed with cancer, before I could even tell my parents, a childless rich man said he wanted to adopt me.

I looked around our home, where you couldn't find a single decent piece of furniture, and at my brother, paralyzed in bed.

Life was already hard enough for this family. I couldn't let a girl with a terminal illness drag them under.

Just as I was about to say yes to the man's offer, rows of floating comments drifted across my vision.

"Don't agree. Your parents are worth hundreds of millions. This is just a test."

"Poor girl. She doesn't want to burden her family, so she accepts the rich man's adoption, and then her parents decide she loves money more than her own kin."

"Such a shame nobody believes a word she says. After they throw her out, she dies of illness in the snow, alone."

"She has no idea she has a younger sister. The family gave all the money to that sister and played poor with her, just to see which kind of upbringing produces the better person."

I stared blankly at the comments hanging in the air, and slowly my eyes began to sting.

Every day I got up before dawn to wash my brother, and after school I collected bottles and worked odd jobs to lighten my parents' load.

I only ever let myself eat expired food, and that was what gave me stomach cancer so young. All of that was just my family's little test?

Seeing me say nothing, they pressed me. "Do you want to be adopted or not?"

...

The sheer weight of it hit me until my head spun. My throat closed up, and for a long moment I couldn't force out a single word.

I looked at my parents, gray coming in at their temples, and I wanted to demand, sharply, whether everything the comments said was true.

I wanted to ask my brother, Nelson Delgado, whether the legs he'd crippled saving me in that car accident were fake too.

But the words rose to my lips and I choked them back down.

I had no proof. All I had was what the comments showed me. My family would either deny it, or decide I'd lost my mind.

When I still hadn't spoken, my father lost his patience. He slammed his hand down on the table. "What do you actually want?"

Out of habit I flinched. And when he saw me cowering, meek and small,

my father's temper boiled over. "Say something. Are you mute? Useless thing, you really can't compare to—"

He bit off the rest just in time. But the comments finished it for me.

"He means she can't compare to his younger daughter!"

"But since she was little they drilled it into her that the family's poor, don't compare yourself to others. The little sister's had everything handed to her from birth. How was she ever supposed to compete?"

I looked at my mother and brother watching from the sidelines, and my heart dropped like a stone.

The man who wanted to adopt me, Colin Rodriguez, spoke up.

"Never mind. If the child is hesitating, then her family clearly means something to her. We won't push."

He covered for me and folded up the adoption papers.

Colin and his wife stood and said their goodbyes.

The comments were still celebrating, congratulating me on passing my parents' test.

They said it wouldn't be long before I got my rich-girl life back.

But something inside me was going cold, inch by inch.

My parents were still watching me with those measuring eyes.

And Nelson came right out and asked, "When you hesitated, was it because you couldn't bear to leave us? Or were you weighing the costs and benefits?"

Their eyes, their tone, made my scalp prickle all over.

The comments panicked on my behalf.

"Oh no, oh no. Every time they decide she doesn't treasure the family enough, they pull something."

"Last time the brother faked getting hurt in a crash to save her. Now what scheme are they cooking up?"

I dropped my head, away from the comments, and forced a smile. "I just felt bad that you let them in at all. When someone comes to adopt your child, isn't a normal parent supposed to shove them straight out the door?"

At those few words, my parents looked awkward.

They laughed it off. "Josephine Delgado, we're only doing this for your own good. All right, all right, let's drop it."

I pressed a hand to my aching stomach and said nothing more.

With what little strength I had left, I managed to get myself lying down in bed.

I gripped my blanket, worn so thin the threads were coming loose.

And in my heart I swore two things: first, I would find proof that my family was faking their poverty. Second, I would find a way to cure my illness.

By the moonlight I looked at my parents, snoring now, and at the wall full of my awards.

I still couldn't bring myself to believe none of it was real.

Because poor as this house was, there had been too many warm moments in it.

For my school fees, my mother went door to door, borrowing money.

Sometimes people sneered at her. "She's just a girl. Getting her through middle school is more than enough."

And my mother only smiled awkwardly and explained, "This girl's clever. As her parents, we can't hold her back."

To make my daily trip to school a little easier,

my father had the whole family scrimp and save for half a year before he'd put aside enough to buy me a bicycle.

To celebrate my coming of age, my brother, Nelson, paralyzed in bed for years,

still got someone to bring me a little rabbit as a birthday gift.

I slept badly that night, and by the time school let out the next day I was still foggy and dazed.

But one line in the comments snapped me wide awake, and in an instant the cold ran straight down my spine.