The mansion stood like something out of a fantasy novel, towering glass windows, silver-trimmed balconies, and the kind of silence that screams old money. Lena couldn’t stop blinking as she stepped out of the car, her sneakers crunching against the marble-tiled driveway. It was all too perfect, too cold, too… not hers.

Her mom stood beside her, beaming with that kind of glow only love or marrying a millionaire could give you.

“Come on, baby,” she said, looping her arm through ...