Chapter 1

The freezing spring rain chilled me to the bone. I curled up on the rickety couch in my tiny rental, kept awake all night by a severe sinus flare-up.

Since it was the weekend, I decided to head back to the condo I owned, just hoping to soak in some central heat for a couple of days.

The moment I reached the door, the smart lock flashed red. My fingerprint was rejected.

Through the heavy security door, my mother’s voice came out cold and sharp:

"Serena, your cousin Tyler brought his new girlfriend over.

Your Uncle Frank promised that as long as you sign the deed over to Tyler as his wedding house, he’ll take care of your father and me in our old age."

"I already wiped your fingerprint from the lock. I threw all your junk into the dumpster downstairs, too. Tyler’s fiancée said keeping your stuff around would bring bad luck. Don’t come back here."

I wiped the cold drizzle and snot from my face, my voice hoarse and trembling:

"Mom, I bought this place! I’m not even married yet. Where am I supposed to live?"

My mother clicked her tongue in annoyance from inside:

"You’re a girl! You’ll marry out sooner or later anyway. Get back to your cheap rental and stop trying to spread your germs to Tyler!"

"Oh, right—Tyler wants to buy a brand-new car. Wire me some more money right now."

I looked down at my phone screen, staring at the five-hundred-dollar transfer I had just sent her minutes ago, while the sound of Tyler and his family laughing echoed from inside. A bitter, self-mocking smile spread across my face.

All these years, I lived like a beggar to pay for this home. And in the end, there wasn't even a single corner left to shield me from the freezing rain.

I stood outside in the corridor, completely paralyzed.

Rain poured in through the open hallway window, soaking straight through the back of my jacket.

I didn’t knock again.

I pressed my thumb against the scanner a dozen more times, only to watch the screen flash "Access Denied" again and again.

Turning numbly, I walked down the stairs toward the dumpster behind the building.

My clothes, shoes, and toiletries were dumped unceremoniously into the trash bins.

I knelt in the mud, digging them out with frozen, trembling fingers. The rancid stench of rotting food hit me instantly.

My stomach heaved, and I collapsed onto my knees in the rain, dry-heaving violently.

I had saved sixty thousand dollars of my own hard-earned money for the down payment on this condo.

I paid a fifteen-hundred-dollar mortgage every single month.

I sent my mother a thousand dollars in living expenses every month without fail.

Meanwhile, I lived in a freezing, run-down studio where I couldn't even afford to turn on the space heater.

And now, I didn't even have a home.

Clutching my mud-stained clothes against my chest, my vision went pitch black, and I crashed face-first into the muddy puddle.

When I opened my eyes, the sharp smell of antiseptic stung my nose.

A nurse was hanging an IV bag over my bed.

"You had a fever over a hundred and three," she said gently. "A good Samaritan called the ambulance."

"Thank you," I croaked out, my throat raw.

The nurse sighed softly. "Where's your family? Someone needs to settle your hospital admission bill."

I pulled out my phone. There were over a dozen missed calls—all from my mother.

A faint spark of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe she noticed I was gone. Maybe she was actually worried about me.

I dialed her back. She answered on the very first ring.

"Serena! Where the hell did you run off to?!"

"Mom, I have a high fever. I’m in the ER..."

"You’re not dying from a damn fever! Hurry up and transfer me three thousand dollars right now!"

My heart plunged straight into sub-zero ice.

"What do you need three thousand for?"

"Tyler found a thirty-thousand-dollar car he likes! We’re short three grand for the down payment. You’re his older sister, step up and cover it!"

I stared helplessly at the sterile ceiling tiles.

"I don’t have any money left. The five hundred I sent earlier was my last penny."

"Bullshit! You make four grand a month and your mortgage is only fifteen hundred. How could you be broke?!"

She had my income calculated down to the cent. But she never once factored in that I had to eat, pay subway fare, and cover rent on my studio in this expensive city.

"I told you, I don't have it! I can't even afford my hospital bill!"

"Serena Davis, stop playing poor with me! If you don’t send that three thousand dollars today, don't you dare call me your mother ever again!"

Click. The line went dead.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and yanked the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the white sheets.

Don't call her my mother?

She had stopped treating me like a human being a long time ago.