Caleb had always nurtured the comforting thought that his second brother, Dominic, had volunteered for the farm out of a noble streak—a shield to protect Evelyn from the grueling labor of the countryside.

But standing there now, Caleb needed the truth. He looked at Evelyn, waiting for the illusion to hold.

"Dominic came here for one reason," Evelyn said, her voice as cool as a cellar floor. "He confessed his love to Serafina and was humiliated by her rejection. He couldn't bear to show his face in the city, so he ran."

Among the four Ward children, state policy dictated that one must be sent to the rural labor camps. Mrs. Ward, a woman whose heart was reserved only for her own flesh and blood, couldn't bear the thought of her children suffering. Unfortunately, back then, Evelyn was only fifteen—too young for the bureau to take.

So, Mrs. Ward had conspired with her brother, Sloan, faking a chronic illness for Dominic to stall for time. They waited until the day Evelyn turned eighteen. Mrs. Ward had planned for everything, except for Dominic’s sudden, impulsive "sacrifice." He had enlisted behind her back, cutting off any path for retreat.

At the time, Dominic’s rhetoric had been nothing short of saintly. “I am the eldest brother,” he had declared. “I won’t watch my little sister wither away in the fields.”

That grand gesture had cost Evelyn everything. Mrs. Ward, who used to at least maintain a facade of civility, dropped the mask entirely. She blamed Evelyn for Dominic’s "exile."

In a past life, Evelyn had lived on that guilt. She had survived on scraps, sewing her mouth shut and tightening her belt to send packages to the countryside. When the isolation of her own life became unbearable, she would cling to the image of her brothers: If my eldest brother, the soldier, knew I was here, he would rescue me. If Dominic knew I was being bullied, he would avenge me. If my youngest brother knew where I was, he would come for me.

But when she finally escaped the mountains and told them it was Serafina who had orchestrated her misery, the soldier never came to see her.

Dominic had simply slid an envelope of hush money across a table, telling her to "behave" and stop plotting against Serafina.

And Caleb? Her baby brother had doused her with a bucket of cold water, warning her to stay away from Serafina’s "perfect, happy life."

In this life, before her awakening, she had been fooled again. Despite her mother seizing every cent of her wages, Evelyn had pinched pennies out of thin air to send Dominic care packages every six months.

Caleb stared at his brother, his voice a ragged whisper. "Dominic... you... you loved Serafina too?"

Dominic’s face flushed a violent shade of red. "Evelyn, shut your mouth! I did it for you—"

Crack.

Evelyn’s palm connected with his cheek before he could finish. Her eyes were like sharpened flint. "Say it again."

"I said the family needed someone to go, and I went so you wouldn't have to—"

Crack.

She slapped him again, the sound echoing like a pistol shot. Dominic’s fists balled up, his eyes burning with a murderous fire. "Don't think for a second I won't hit you back!"

"If you truly wanted to save me," Evelyn sneered, her lip curling in derision, "you would have gone years ago. Why play the invalid until the very moment I reached of age?"

"I was sick! If my health had—"

Evelyn swung a third time. This time, blinded by rage, Dominic swung back. Evelyn didn't flinch; she simply grabbed Caleb by the shoulder and yanked him into the path of the blow.

The punch landed squarely on Caleb’s jaw. His head rang like a struck bell, his vision blurring. Did Dominic really have to hit that hard?

Before Dominic could process the fact that he’d struck his own brother, Evelyn’s hand whipped out again, catching him across the mouth. He looked ready to tear her apart.

"Tell me, Dominic," she hissed before he could move. "How did those packages taste? The ones I sent these last few years?"

She stepped into his space, her voice trembling with a cold, controlled fury. "I went without food. I wore rags. In the dead of summer, I wouldn't even spend a penny on a piece of ice to cool my tongue—all so I could save for you. If there is a single shred of conscience left in that chest of yours, tell the truth: Did you come here for me?"

Dominic let out a harsh, jagged laugh. "A package every six months? You call that a sacrifice? You had a decent salary, Evelyn. Don't act like you were starving."

Caleb, nursing his swollen face, looked up in genuine shock. "Dominic... you didn't know? Mom collects her paycheck every month. Evelyn never sees a dime of it."

The bravado drained from Dominic’s face, replaced by a flickering panic. "That’s impossible. Mom would have left her something."

Evelyn smiled then—a thin, ghostly expression that didn't reach her eyes. Caleb shook his head at his brother. He had tried to goad Evelyn into claiming her own wages many times, mostly because he knew he could wheedle more pocket money out of her than he could from his mother. But Evelyn had always been too terrified to ask.

Dominic stood frozen. He had spent years nurturing a resentment toward her, thinking her "cold" for only sending help twice a year. Now, the foundation of his martyrdom was crumbling. She had given him everything she had, while he had been hiding behind a lie.

"The truth, Dominic," she prompted quietly.

After a long, suffocating silence, his shoulders slumped. "She's right," he muttered.

Caleb felt a dull ache in his chest. So it was true. Dominic had been just another fool chasing Serafina.

"And the reason I sent Caleb here?" Evelyn added, her eyes shifting to the younger brother. "That was because of Serafina, too."

Caleb turned pale. How? How could she possibly know?

Dominic, still stuck in his old ways, frowned. "Evelyn, don't drag her into everything just because you're jealous of Julian. Serafina is innocent in this."

"Caleb," Evelyn ignored him, looking directly at the boy. "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Caleb stammered, his face turning the color of a ripe beet.

"Caleb has a crush on Serafina," Evelyn said, her voice dripping with mockery. "I merely sent him away to keep him from making a 'monumental mistake.' Consider it an act of mercy."

Dominic didn't need to ask. Caleb’s expression was a confession in itself.

"You sent me to this hellhole just for that?" Caleb exploded. "So what if I like her? What 'mistake' could I possibly make?"

"Caleb, listen to me," Dominic said, trying to regain some semblance of authority. "Evelyn was wrong to do this, but Serafina is two years older than you. She's... she's like a sister."

"So what?" Caleb snapped. "I like older women! What’s it to you?"

Evelyn watched them, a dark, cynical amusement curling in her gut. What would they do, she wondered, if they knew the blood in Serafina’s veins was the same as theirs? Would they die of shame, or would they embrace the taboo? And Mrs. Ward—would she choose the noose or the bottle when she realized her sons were lusting after her own hidden daughter?

By the time the two brothers looked up to address her, Evelyn was already gone.

"She’s been different since the wedding," Caleb muttered, rubbing his bruised jaw. He recounted the way she had dismantled their parents with her words. "You think Julian's betrayal finally snapped something in her brain?"

Dominic touched his own stinging cheek. Strangely, hearing that Evelyn had attacked their parents gave him a sense of warped relief. He wasn't being singled out. She was simply burning the whole world down.

Caleb, however, felt a strange sense of pride. Evelyn hadn't hit him on purpose, and she hadn't screamed at him the way she did the others. In his mind, he was still the favorite.