“We were going to tell you tonight,” Mom said, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “This morning, when I went to the restroom, the toilet reported a protein in my urine that’s a precursor to thyroid cancer. Left untreated, I might develop cancer ten years from now, but the doctor says if we do a day of radiation, I’ll be fine. It’s going to be hard on my body—like having the flu—but I will fight. I’m a survivor. At least I will be.” She smiled.

I blinked, shocked at her audacity. “Mom, I know you’re afraid of pain, but don’t you think you’re incredibly lucky to beat cancer before you get it? Most people can’t afford that technology.”

“I’ll be creating awareness, sweetie. That’s my job.”

“And Ella, your job is to fix your price,” Dad said. “While you’re on set, cozy up to the director, the lead actors. Be seen having a great time.”

“But won’t it look bad if I leave Mom in her time of need to go film some dumb movie?” I was grasping at straws.

“No,” Dad said. “I think it’s best you distance yourself from us while we go through this. Your mother is sick. She doesn’t need extra stress in her life.”

His words had the power of a thousand beestings. Get close to no one. Including your daughter. “But I don’t want to go. It’s my life. Don’t I have a choice?”

“No, you don’t have a choice,” Dad growled. “You’re sixteen. You have no say. You’re going.”

“But what about Deena?” I sniffed, my head aching.

“We’ll take care of her,” Mom said almost gleefully. “You can never go back to Intersection, you silly, little fool. You’ll have to break all ties with your friends there.”

“But I can’t leave Adam. He’s the only good thing in my life.” My heart squeezed, and a sob caught in my throat, last night’s brief happiness slipping through my fingers.

“Too bad,” Dad said, unmoved. “Above all, you will end things with him. Having a relationship with him will only provoke Deena. You’re getting on a jet tonight. You will not see him again. Is that clear?”

Desperate to hold on to the shreds of my almost life, I pointed my chin to the sky. “No. I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Watch us.”

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

January 2, 20X6, Keystone

“Good morning, Scarlet Spy.” Rayelle’s too-cheery voice sounds from across the room.

I groan. The winter sun rising over the strawberry fields is an interrogator, streaming through the windows. The flat, white light assaults me, demanding last night’s memories surface.

You’re my prize.