Chapter 2: Welcome to the Carmichaels

The summer I turned eighteen, I crushed my SATs and moved to the Chicago suburbs for college.

Chicago felt like a whole new universe—L-trains rattling, skyscrapers glinting, and the wind off Lake Michigan making everything feel alive. I could almost taste freedom, even as I trailed behind my dad, Dennis Harper, the man who always seemed one step behind everyone else. This time, his ticket was marrying into the Carmichael family.

I followed my dad as he tried to blend into the Carmichaels’ world, his posture all nerves and hope.

The Carmichaels’ mansion was a brick behemoth up in the Gold Coast, the kind of place where the scent of lemon polish and old money hits you the second you walk in. My footsteps echoed on the marble floors as Dad introduced me to my new stepfamily.

"Avery, come say hi to your Aunt Linda." Dennis grinned, patting my head like I was his secret weapon, nudging me toward a woman with heavy makeup and an even heavier stare.

I could feel the weight of his expectations—he needed me to be sweet, to charm his way into this family. So I dropped my eyes, let my lashes flutter, and tried to look like the perfect, obedient daughter.

"Hello, Aunt Linda," I said, voice small, eyes downcast, playing the part so well I almost believed it myself.

"So polite, and clever too." Linda Carmichael’s red lips curled as she tipped my chin up with a ring-heavy hand. "From now on, treat this as your home, Avery. Auntie will take care of you."

Her perfume was suffocating, all gardenia and powder, and her rings were icy against my skin. I nodded, smiling like a porcelain doll being arranged just so.

As I tried to steady myself, a tall, lean figure appeared at the top of the sweeping staircase, catching my attention.

He moved with a kind of lazy confidence, every step deliberate. The whole foyer seemed to hush as he came into view, sunlight streaking through the stained glass and catching on his pale skin.

It was a guy, maybe nineteen or twenty, with a cold, almost ethereal face and a silver hoop glinting in his ear.

His jaw was sharp, eyes unreadable, and the earring flashed as he passed through the colored light. He looked like he belonged in a Calvin Klein ad—classic, untouchable.

I stared, forgetting to hide my curiosity, but he only glanced at me for a heartbeat before looking away.

"Julian, come say hi. This is your sister, Avery Harper." Linda’s voice broke the silence, turning toward the tall boy.

Julian ignored her, heading straight upstairs.

The tension in the air crackled. Linda’s smile tightened, her lips pressed thin as she watched him go.

"Julian!" Linda started to call again, but Dennis quickly intercepted.

"Hey, hey, if he’s not up for it, let it go. It’s all good." He forced a laugh, trying to smooth things over.

Linda just sighed, her voice clipped. "That’s my son from my first marriage—Julian Locke. Grew up with his grandparents, got spoiled. Don’t take it personally."

Dennis nodded, his smile all humility, like a man who knew he’d lucked out marrying up.

I could see the nerves in his eyes, how he tried to fit in. He was always chasing approval, never quite catching it.

But I kept my eyes on Julian’s retreating figure.

He moved like a shadow—silent, self-contained, already halfway gone. I wondered what it would take to get a reaction from him.

Eventually, Dennis called me back: "Avery. Come on, let Aunt Linda show you your room."

That snapped me out of my daze.

I took a deep breath, curled my lips into a practiced smile, and followed them upstairs.

It was a smile I’d perfected over years—sweet, harmless, the kind adults always underestimated.

"Okay, Dad."