Chapter 2My Parents Gave My Oxford Spot to My Sister, So I Left

Early the next morning, I went out to the glass conservatory at the far end of the grounds.

That was where I kept the miniature city model I'd spent three months building for an international competition.

I'd carved each piece from balsa wood and resin, pouring everything I had into every street corner and every window.

The moment I pushed open the conservatory door, I froze.

Camilla was standing in front of my model with two of her closest friends, a coffee cup in her hand. She was pointing at the church in the center and shaking with laughter.

"Yes, that spire. When I go to Oxford, I want my apartment to have that same vintage look."

As she talked, she reached out and casually toyed with the church spire, her fingernails painted bright red.

"Don't touch that!" I hurried over.

But it was too late.

The balsa spire snapped with a sharp crack as she tugged at it. The uneven pressure brought the structure beneath it crashing down. In an instant, a third of the miniature city lay in ruins.

For a moment, the conservatory went silent.

Camilla covered her mouth and gasped dramatically.

"Oh no, Selena, I'm so sorry. This thing is so flimsy. I barely even touched it..."

Her two friends chimed in. "Yeah, Selena, it's just a little homemade toy. Don't be so harsh. What if you scare Camilla? She's not in a good place mentally right now."

I stared at the balsa splinters scattered across the floor. My stomach clenched as if I'd swallowed a fistful of broken glass, and the pain spread through my whole body.

Seven years ago, my father, Richard Prescott, had come with me to buy my first set of expensive drafting tools. He lifted me onto his shoulders, pointed at the Manhattan skyline, and said, "Selena, someday this city is going to have buildings you designed. Nothing makes me prouder than you."

Now my proudest achievement was just a toy Camilla could break without a second thought.

My father heard the commotion and came over from the main house.

He took one look at the mess on the floor and Camilla's red eyes, then frowned.

"What happened?"

Camilla hurried over and hooked her arm through his, tears streaming down her face.

"Daddy, I accidentally broke Selena's model. She seems really mad... I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. I can't do anything right..."

My father patted the back of Camilla's hand, then gave me a disapproving look.

"Selena, it's just a pile of wood. Your sister didn't do it on purpose. Do you really need to look at her like that?"

"I spent three months on that. It was for a competition next month." My voice was flat, almost frighteningly calm.

My father waved a hand impatiently.

"Missing one competition won't kill you. You're already so accomplished. Can't you cut your sister some slack? She's leaving for Oxford next month, and she's under a lot of pressure. Just build another model. Don't make everyone miserable over something this small."

His voice softened as he turned to Camilla. "All right, stop crying. Let me take you to pick out a few coats for Europe."

They walked off with their arms around each other, without so much as another glance at the pieces on the floor.

I crouched down and picked up the broken spire. A splinter pricked my fingertip, and a dark red drop of blood welled up.

But I didn't feel any pain.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

Adrian's name flashed on the screen.

I answered.

"Selena, did you book your flight?" His voice was deep, warm, and reassuring.

Adrian was the youngest Harvard professor who was also a partner in his own firm. I'd met him at an academic forum, and he'd become my mentor.

After seeing my drawings, he immediately asked the school to admit me directly.

"I did. I'm flying out tonight." I looked at the blood on my fingertip as I answered softly.

Even over the phone, he could tell something was wrong.

"You don't sound like yourself. Is something wrong?"

"No." I took a deep breath and tossed the broken pieces of wood into the trash can. "I'm just clearing out some junk I don't need."

Adrian gave a low laugh.

"Okay. It's been snowing in Boston lately, so bring a warm coat. I'll pick you up at the airport."

"Thank you, Adrian."

I hung up, stood, and walked out of the conservatory.

I never looked back at that pile of rubble.