Chapter One: The Night the Mask Cracked
The pumpkin soup was burning hot.
It slid from Lena Hart’s eyelashes, down her cheeks, soaking the collar of her soft blue dress. She sat frozen in her wheelchair, hands clenched, afraid to cry. Crying made Vivian Hart angry. And when Vivian was angry, things always got worse.
“Oh sweetheart,” Vivian cooed loudly, her voice coated in false concern. “You really must be more careful, Lena.”
Guests turned to watch. This was Vivian’s lavish birthday gala in the Hamptons—politicians, financiers, socialites. People who smiled with their teeth but never their eyes.
Vivian bent close, her perfume sharp. “Don’t call me Mom,” she hissed so only Lena could hear. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Lena was six. Her legs hadn’t worked since the yacht accident that took her real mother. She felt small. Invisible. Trapped.
A laugh cut through the room.
“Poor thing,” Vivian’s sister Clara muttered. “She’s such a burden.”
Lena swallowed. She had only wanted water. Her wheel had caught on a tablecloth. Vivian had grabbed the ladle. On purpose.
Then— BANG.