When the out-of-control car barreled toward us, my fiancé and my brother both reached out—and pulled my adopted sister to safety.

I was sent flying.

When I woke up, I realized I was finally done with all of them. I left the US for London, vanishing from their world completely.

Five years later, I returned to Boston just before Christmas. My mother had always loved white lilies, so my first stop straight from the airport was North Hill Cemetery.

I had just laid the bouquet against her headstone when hurried footsteps crunched in the snow behind me.

I turned. It was the brother I hadn't seen in five years.

He stood a few feet away, the white lilies in his own hands dropping to the snow.

"Claire... is it really you?"

I straightened up, my voice as calm as if I were discussing the weather.

"You have the wrong person, Mr. Whitmore."

"Your sister died in a car crash five years ago."

~~~~~

The title "Mr. Whitmore" slammed down between us like a steel door, instantly severing whatever ties he thought we still had.

All the color drained from Ethan's face.

He took two desperate steps forward, reaching for my wrist. I shifted my weight, letting his hand grasp empty air.

"Claire—it's me. Ethan. I'm your brother!"

The frigid cemetery air seemed to freeze completely.

"My brother." I looked at him, my expression entirely hollow. "I thought Olivia was your only sister."

The memory unlocked itself, sharp and uninvited.

The day Olivia Whitmore fell down the stairs, I had been standing right on the landing. She had looked up at me, a calculated gleam in her eyes that I hadn't understood at the time, and simply let herself fall backward.

Amidst her piercing screams, Ethan had rushed over to scoop her into his arms.

She had clutched his shirt, tears streaming down her face. "Please, don't blame Claire... I just lost my footing..."

Ethan had looked up at me then. His gaze was pure venom.

"How could you be so vicious, Claire?" he had spat, every word a nail in my coffin. "I don't have a sister like you. From now on, Olivia is my only sister."

Those words had pinned me to the floor. They had stripped away my voice, my defense, and my will to fight for a family that had already made its choice.

Ethan's ragged voice dragged me back to the present. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with tears.

"I looked for you for five years... You vanished without a trace. We thought you'd been in an accident..."

"An accident?" I met his gaze head-on. "When that car was barreling right at me five years ago, did it ever cross your mind that I might actually die?"

He swayed on his feet. His lips trembled, but no sound came out.

I picked up my bag from the snow.

"So don't call me your sister. Claire Whitmore died five years ago."

He blocked my path. "Claire, please! Just tell me where you're staying. At least let me—"

"There's no need." I turned to walk away.

Panic overtook him. He grabbed my hand, his grip frantic. "Come home with me. Dad and I just want to make it up to you..."

I stared at his pathetic, unraveling state.

Yanking my hand free, I leveled a dead stare at him. "Make it up to me? With what? Money? Or guilt that's five years too late?"

His eyes went wide, his empty hand hovering in the air between us.

I didn't spare him another glance as I walked toward the cemetery exit.

Behind me, his voice cracked, shattering in the cold wind. "Claire, wait! Hale's been looking for you too! He still wants to marry you!"

My footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, I kept walking.

As I pulled open my car door, I caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror. The man who used to be so impossibly proud was slowly sinking to his haunches in front of our mother's grave, his shoulders completely caved in.

I looked away.

When I left Boston five years ago, I couldn't even protect myself. Now that I was back, I didn't need anyone to stand in front of me.

I was only here to deal with a bank safe deposit box my mother had left untouched for years. The lawyers insisted I had to be present in person to process the inheritance.

Once the paperwork for the box and the old case was done, I would be gone.

There was no reason to tangle with the past.