I once saw her interview at an orphanage.

A kid showed her a drawing, and the perfectly dressed socialite burst into tears right there.

Eyes red, she promised to spend $500,000 on art shows for the kids. She even said she'd send them abroad for college when they grew up.

Luca didn't need any of that.

He just needed someone to take him away.

To keep him alive.

The call went through fast.

"Mom, I've been kidnapped. He's going to kill me. Please come get Luca and take him home."

Silence.

Laughter burst through the phone.

My adoptive sister Vera snatched the phone and laughed so hard she could barely get the words out.

"Estelle, seriously? If you're gonna make something up, at least make it believable. You look so broke you probably don't even have fifty bucks. What kidnapper would pick you?"

She giggled.

"Mom, don't you think?"

Mom played along without missing a beat.

"Of course. You're right."

Then her voice turned cold.

"Just hang up. Ignore your sister. She was ruined long before we brought her back from the countryside. And that name—Dixie? It sounds straight out of a trailer park."

Every word hit like a knife.

I parted my lips and tasted blood.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't lying.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't ruined.

I wanted to remind her that my name wasn't Dixie.

My name was Estelle.

Estelle Emerson.

The name she had given me herself.

Vera didn't hang up.

She said she had more to say, then the party noise faded, like she'd walked away with the phone onto a balcony.

"Estelle, did you hear that? Mom and Dad don't have time for you. So stop acting pathetic for attention. Today's my birthday. I'm the only one who matters to them.

"And Tristan? He canceled a project and flew back just for me.

"So? Ready to admit you lost?"

Her voice was lazy. Smug. Like she'd already won.

But I wasn't listening.

Luca was awake.

He opened his eyes and crawled toward me, tears filling his dark eyes.

"Mommy... Luca hurts..."

My heart sank.

I reached for him.

The kidnapper yanked him away.

As he walked off, he pressed a finger to his lips.

Stay quiet.

Keep playing.

Blood flooded my mouth.

I had no idea where the strength had come from.

Still tied to the chair, I crashed onto the floor.

Pain shot through me, but I forced the words out.

Begging the person who had stolen my life.

"Vera... I give up.

"I never should've come back to this family. I never should've fought you for Mom and Dad's love. I never should've existed at all.

"But please... please take my son home.

"I'll do anything.

"I can slap myself."

Lying on the floor, I lifted my hand and hit my face with everything I had left.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Tears mixed with blood.

My eyes stayed open as I wondered if I was slapping myself...

or beating the last shred of dignity out of me.

Vera.

I give up.

Vera went silent for a second.

I heard her suck in a breath.

Then she burst out laughing.

"Seriously, Estelle? I stole your parents, took your place, drove you out, and left you digging through trash. I'm that horrible, that cruel, and you're actually... actually begging me?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

Soft.

Poisonous.

"Estelle, you're pathetic."

The call disconnected.

I lay on the floor without moving.

Like a corpse.

After a while, the kidnapper sighed and walked over, knife in hand.

I shifted slightly, exposing my blood-soaked forehead.

Then I begged him like a stray dog.

"Give me one more chance.

"One last call."

The kidnapper raised an eyebrow.

"Your father doesn't want you. Your mother doesn't want you. Who else is left to call? Just give up already."

When Frank tied me up and tried to sell me off, he'd said the same thing. "Stop fighting. This is your fate."

I didn't accept it then.

I bit that man and ran.

Ran all the way to the end of that dirt road.

That's where I found my father.

He'd come looking for his missing daughter.

I'd changed my fate once before.

The restraints had sliced deep into my wrists, but I barely felt it.

I just stared at the kidnapper, too stubborn to give up.

"I want a third chance."

The third call was to Tristan.

Luca's father.

"Tristan, I'm going to die. Please come get Luca. He's three. He misses you."

Tristan sighed.

"What now? I'm busy. I don't have time for your games. This month's child support went through on time. Take the money and behave. Stop bothering me."

At his voice, Luca suddenly broke free from the kidnapper and cried out for his dad.

Tristan went silent.

His breathing turned heavy.

For one second, I thought he cared.

My eyes burned. I opened my mouth.

But his cold voice cut in.

"I already told you, Estelle. Behave. I won't short you a single cent of child support, but if you try to turn my son against me, I won't forgive you."

Vera's voice floated through the phone, sweet and playful.

"Tristan, cake time! Hurry up!"

Tristan chuckled.

"I'll bring you and the kid home for dinner next week."

Then he hung up.

My third chance was gone.

I screamed and lunged for the phone, desperate to make one more call.

Just before I could reach it, the kidnapper kicked it away.

Then he grabbed Luca by one leg and dragged him in front of me.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"See? I told you to stop fighting. You wouldn't listen. Believe me now?"

Luca threw himself into my arms, sobbing.

His little face was red from crying.

"Mommy... Luca's scared... Mommy..."

I pressed my cheek against his tangled hair.

Tears wouldn't stop falling.

"Don't be scared, Luca. Mommy's here. Mommy will protect you."

The kidnapper let out a laugh. "You?"

I sniffed and looked straight at him.

My gaze didn't waver.

"Give me one more chance. If it still doesn't work... I'll stop fighting."

His smile disappeared.

"Fine. One last chance.

"This time I'll make it easy. If anyone in your family answers, I'll let you and the kid go.

"But if nobody answers, I'll kill you, cut your son into three pieces, and mail them to your parents."

"Deal."

***

The fourth call was to Mom.

The phone rang seven times.

No answer.

The kidnapper smirked. "See? I—"

"Hello?"

The call connected.

But it wasn't Mom.

"Who's calling? Mrs. Emerson is celebrating Miss Emerson's birthday and can't come to the phone. Is this urgent?"

Beatrice.

The housekeeper.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth.

"It's Estelle..."

A pause.

Then an awkward sigh.

"Estelle, Mrs. Emerson said not to answer your calls today. Mr. Emerson said..." She hesitated. "Unless you're dead, don't bother him or Mrs. Emerson."

The kidnapper laughed.

I didn't.

"Please. Just hand them the phone. They don't have to do anything. They just have to answer. Please."

Maybe I sounded too desperate.

Beatrice sighed again, then carried the phone into the loud party.

"Mrs. Emerson, it's Estelle. She says you need to take this."

On the other end, Mom seemed to be dancing.

At Beatrice's words, her voice paused.

"Mom, please! Just answer the phone! I don't need you to come get Luca anymore. I don't need you to take him home. Just answer the phone!"

"Mrs. Emerson, maybe you should—"

Between my sobbing and Beatrice's pleading, Mom went quiet.

For a long moment, she didn't say anything.

Then, finally, she seemed to give in.

Just as she was about to take the phone, Vera's voice cut through the noise.

Mom, Dad, and Tristan were all with her.

"Mom! Hurry! We're taking the family picture!"

Vera sounded bright and happy.

Like a carefree little bird.

Mom hesitated.

Then Vera suddenly choked up.

A second later, it sounded like she ran off.

Tristan immediately went after her.

Then something hit the floor.

"Estelle's doing this on purpose!" Dad snapped. "She knows it's Vera's birthday and still has to make everything about herself. And you fell for it again! Have you forgotten everything Vera's been through because of her?"

Mom fired back, "I haven't forgotten, but... today is Estelle's birthday too..."

Dad brushed it off.

"It's not like she's dying today. If it matters that much, buy her a cake next year. Enough. Go check on Vera before she gets upset."

Mom sighed.

Then a heel slammed down, cracking the phone screen.

***

The tiny house went quiet.

No more tears.

The kidnapper was the only one who felt sorry for me.

"What was the point? You knew how this would end, but you still fought back three or four times. I'll tell you the truth. Your sister paid a fortune to hire me. The deposit came from money your parents gave her."

I didn't say a word.

I lowered my head and kissed Luca's cheek.

"Can you untie me? I want to leave one last message."

The kidnapper hesitated, then nodded.

Once I had the phone, I sent two messages to the family group chat.

A photo of myself covered in blood.

And one sentence.

[I'm really going to die. In my next life, don't bring me home.]

After I hit send, I smiled at Luca.

Then I threw myself at the kidnapper and slammed him to the floor.

"Luca, run! Run, Luca!"

"Estelle, you lied to me!"

The knife drove into my stomach again and again.

I couldn't feel the pain.

I just held on with everything I had.

"Luca, run!"

Luca seemed to understand right away.

Biting his lip, he ran for the door.

His bare feet left tiny footprints across the floor.

The kidnapper snapped.

He shoved me aside and lunged after him.

I grabbed his leg and held on.

The kidnapper let out a furious laugh.

Then he turned and kicked my wound again and again.

Blood poured from my stomach.

But there was one thing he didn't know.

When you're dying, you stop feeling pain.

As my consciousness faded, Frank's words surfaced in my mind.

"Dixie, stop fighting. This is your fate."

He was wrong.

I changed my fate one more time.

My child was going to live.

But he was right, too.

Someone like me was never meant to have a whole, happy life.

***

Third-Person POV

Meanwhile, Estelle's parents—Henry and Marina—and Tristan crowded around Vera, trying to cheer her up.

Henry's phone buzzed twice.

He yanked it out, annoyed.

"It's probably Estelle again. Vera, just wait. I'll put her in her place—"

The rest of the words caught in his throat.

Henry zoomed in on the photo.

His face started to shake.

Confused, Marina stepped over and looked at the screen.

She screamed.

At the same time, Tristan got a call from an unknown number.

"Hello, is this Tristan Schulz?"

"Yes."

"This is Kingsley PD. We found your child."