Chapter 3

Clara's POV

The moment Mom hung up on Vivian, Rowan's call cut in.

"Rowan, is your case wrapped up over there? Vivian is so nervous before the final she can't sleep. She keeps saying she misses her brother."

She always knew what Vivian needed. Just like back then, she always saw Vivian crying first.

The day I was brought home, all of my parents' attention was on the sobbing Vivian.

Only Rowan walked over, took my icy hand, and said quietly, "Don't be scared, Clara."

On the phone, Rowan paused.

"I remember Clara had some kind of club showcase this weekend, right? She's been getting ready for it for a long time."

"You're bringing up Clara again!" Mom's voice went taut. "Vivian is competing tomorrow. She needs her family's support right now. Clara's stuff can wait. Can Vivian's competition wait?"

Rowan was silent for a moment. "Mom, Clara is your daughter too. She needs to be seen."

"And where were you when I needed to be seen?" Mom suddenly said, her voice a little shaky. "When Vivian had a high fever and lay in the hospital for three days, you were away at training camp. Now she has the most important competition of her life, and you're getting distracted because of Clara?"

"I wasn't trying to—" Rowan tried to explain.

"Enough." Mom cut him off. "If you still care about this sister, then come back and be with her for the competition."

She paused, her voice turning cold. "Tell Clara this: if she doesn't show up to cheer for Vivian tomorrow, she can forget about ever coming back. Honestly, it's better without her."

Rowan wanted to defend me again, but Mom had already hung up on him, clean and decisive.

Rowan always took my side. But in this house, taking sides was a crime in itself.

Dad happened to walk in right then. He saw the ugly look on her face and asked, "What's wrong? Trouble with the case?"

"It's not the case." Mom rubbed her temples, her face full of irritation. "It's Clara again. I don't know what kind of poison she's been feeding Rowan, but now he's questioning me too. Those two siblings are teaming up to make our lives hard."

Dad let out a sigh. "She knew we had a big case on our hands and still chose this time to make trouble. So immature."

He pulled out his phone. "I'll call her. We need to make things clear."

But in the receiver, he only heard the same cold, mechanical recording over and over.

"That ungrateful brat." Dad put his phone away. "We never should've gone to all that trouble to get her back. Besides making a mess, what else can she do?"

Donovan, who was standing nearby, heard the whole exchange. He shook his head. "Back when Clara was kidnapped, you two took a year off duty and almost searched half the country for her. Now that the kid is back, how did it end up like you're enemies?"

That year, when I finally stood in that bright, spacious living room, my parents sat on the sofa with Vivian in their arms, holding her as she sobbed and gently patting her back.

I was wearing a faded T-shirt and frayed pants. On my feet was a pair of canvas shoes coming apart at the seams.

Vivian lifted her head from Mom's arms and blinked her wet lashes. "Dad, Mom, who is this dirty little stray girl?"

My parents' faces darkened immediately.

Not because of what she said, but because their missing-then-found daughter was standing there, an embarrassment.

"Agent Thorne, Dr. Adler," a young officer walked over with a folder, "we checked the recent missing persons reports. No one matches the victim's description."

"So this family still hasn't noticed their daughter is gone? What irresponsible parents," someone muttered nearby.

"Maybe they just don't care. We've seen enough of these tragedies, haven't we?"

Listening to those hushed comments, I felt a sharp, piercing grief.

My parents were feeling sorry for some "irresponsible parents," sympathizing with some "unwanted victim."

But it never occurred to them to wonder where their own daughter—the one they called "immature" and "always causing trouble"—was at that moment.

Back then, when I was kidnapped, they dropped everything to look for me.

Now, my disappearance was just another stunt in their eyes, another bid for attention.

Maybe from the moment I was taken, I no longer deserved to come back to this family at all.