Chapter 1

Madison bolted upright, sweat slick on her skin, breath shallow. The heat pressed in from all sides, thick and airless, the kind of summer night where ceiling fans barely stirred the heavy air, circulating warmth rather than coolness. She pulled on a white tank top, denim shorts, and her Gucci sneakers, the cotton sticking to her damp skin. She fastened her bracelets, the metal cold against her wrist, and studied her reflection in the mirror, lit silver-blue by moonlight slicing through the blinds. She adjusted her long chestnut hair. Her stomach churned. She picked up her backpack and took a last look at her bedroom. The walls, the bed, the posters. All hers, and soon it wouldn’t be. Her throat closed. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. Nothing would ruin this.

She slipped out and crept along the hallway. Outside her sister’s room, she rested a hand on the door. Willow went to camp. Her room was empty. One day she’d understand. They’d once been close, but Willow had morphed into someone else, dropping her old friends for the rich girls and the rich boys. Was it a phase? Madison hoped so. But telling her was too risky. If she told Willow, she might tell. Her parents’ room was down the hall, distant like them. Staring at the closed door, she felt nothing. Empty. It was worse than anger. Maybe when they realised she was gone, they’d finally understand.

She descended the enormous staircase, running her fingers along the richly carved mahogany banister, slick with heat. The red sheen of the wood glowed in the moonlight. Each step creaked softly beneath her, the sound loud in the house’s hush, like a heartbeat echoing in the dark. At the bottom, she opened the front door.

Hurrying down the long driveway, gravel crunched under her sneakers, her skin prickled with sweat. She smiled, picturing her boyfriend’s station wagon idling down the street. The cracked brown leather seats would be warm. She loved how lived in that car felt. She’d be in those seats for hours tonight, and she couldn’t wait.

She paused and turned when she reached the end of the driveway. The house loomed behind her, glowing in the porch light, the rest in darkness. She remembered her mum’s excitement when they moved in, and her own. From a cramped two-bedroom rental to a double-storey mansion with seven bedrooms, five bathrooms, a pool, spa, and tennis court. Yet it wasn’t home. Not really. Too big, too clean, too showy. So grand and so awful. What was that saying? Be careful what you wish for.

Mum always said she’d rescued them. Lifted them from poverty to paradise. But paradise, Madison had learned, could be another kind of prison.

“I gave you everything,” Mum would yell during their arguments, and Madison knew she meant it as love. But it sounded like ownership.

The dinner parties flashed through her mind. Nothing is ever good enough for Mum anymore. She positioned Madison like a piece of furniture. “Stand here, darling. Smile like this. Don’t mention your father.” The daily inspections of her room, her clothes, her homework. Her mother’s mouth would thin to a line whenever Madison mentioned missing their old house, their old life.

“You’re so ungrateful,” Mum would say, her voice staying sweet even as something icy crept into her tone. “Do you know what other girls would give for this life?”

Madison had learned to mask her actual feelings. The loneliness. The suffocation. How every conversation seemed like a test she was failing. All the fake smiles she’d worn were exhausting. She was finally done with the tests.

The side gate closed behind her with a click. Heat pressed down like a weight. The street lay still, too still, as if holding its breath. All the neighbours were zipped into their thousand-thread-count sheets, bellies full of Johnny Blue or Watenshi gin. Two years ago, the fanciest gin she knew was Bombay Sapphire. Now she could name boutique vermouths, tell you where to buy vanilla pods flown in from Madagascar, or how much moose cheese cost by the gram. She put her AirPods in and hit play.

Up ahead, red taillights glowed. Something didn’t sit right. The shape of the car. The height. As she got closer, she slowed. This wasn’t Heath’s wagon. But something about it tugged at her memory. Familiar but wrong. He wouldn’t have swapped cars without telling her. Would he? She moved to the passenger door, the handle warm under her palm, opened it, and climbed in.

Then froze. It wasn’t Heath. Her brain scrambled like static. Where was he?

A scent hit her. Sweet, sour, chemical. Wrong. Her stomach dropped. The car’s interior. Dad’s old wagon? Impossible. He’d sold it years ago. A memory sparked. Recognition clicked into place too late. She reached for the handle. A hand grabbed her wrist. The AirPods tumbled from her other hand onto the asphalt as she struggled. Her fingernails scraped against the door handle, finding no grip. A scream built in her throat. Then darkness.