“There was a letter,” I explain. “When I left Castor Island last April. When I left you there,” I add, reliving that moment of misery as I stare into Levi’s warm, piercing eyes and again feel the ache of that boat ride back to the mainland, without him. “It was from him. Gravelle. It said that the original Emma died when she was three, and that Gravelle, with Seymour’s help, had created me as a replacement for her. So that once she was gone, my father would not be childless. He would have a new ‘Emma’ to replace the one he lost. I knew I was sick,” I barrel on. “As a very young child—a baby, even—I had leukemia. It’s why my mother—” I stop, for some reason having a hard time saying this next part. “It’s why she killed herself.” I force myself to say the words. They’re true, aren’t they? There’s no denying them.

“For my whole life, my father told me that experimental treatments in Sweden saved my life. That he flew me there against the doctors’ orders and found a miracle. But now I know that was all a lie. The original Emma did die. I took her place,” I add, in case there’s any confusion. I barely notice that my cheeks are wet from the tears that stream down them, unabated. “I never thought of it until now. What that little girl—what I—went through. Being taken from her home—with you—and delivered to some crazy upside-down world where she was supposed to stand in for a dead girl.” I realize, now, that I’m shaking. Full-on trembling, but not because of the freezing cold air. It’s because I haven’t processed it. I knew I was a Similar already. But I never considered what it meant for her. That little girl. All I could think about was how this affected me now. But that girl, back then…

It was so unfair, what Gravelle did to her. Snatching her from the only life she knew, with the other Similars on Castor Island, to become someone else’s stand-in. And even though growing up with my father was the normal childhood I was lucky enough to get…

“It was wrong,” I gasp. “And it’s the reason my father’s never loved me. Probably because I could never love him, not knowing… Not knowing he loved this other girl, this first girl, more. I was only three, but I knew even then, didn’t I?”

Before I know what’s happening, I’m in Levi’s arms. The warmth of his lean, muscled body is enveloping me, pulling me toward him, and even though I am distraught and so deeply, deeply sad for that little girl…for me…for all the Similars…the comfort of Levi’s touch is like a jolt of electricity to my system.