The slap resonated in the quiet like a bullet through glass. My cheek throbbed, warmth rising to the surface, yet I didn’t raise my hand. I didn’t move. I simply gazed at Gianna—my sibling, my competitor, my burden. She gazed at me as though I were grime under her shiny footwear. Her smile didn’t convey happiness—it was poison.

“I warned you,” she whispered, low and mean. “You always come crawling back to what was mine.”

“I never wanted anything that belonged to you,” I said, voice shaking but steady. “But you seem to always want what was meant for me.”

Her eyes darkened. “What are you even doing here, Jasmine?...