Mary's POV

I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the dark city below. The lights shimmer like a sea of tiny stars, but they mean nothing. Everything feels wrong. Everything is slipping through my fingers. That girl—Elena—she exists in my perfect world, breathing in the air that should only belong to my family. The golden-haired child, the flaw in my carefully constructed life, keeps showing up everywhere, daring to laugh, to speak, to live as if she belongs. And the worst ...