Chapter 1: The Prince from Dubai

“Look! He’s a real prince from Dubai, can you believe it?”

My stepsister jumped off the couch, her eyes sparkling like she’d just won The Bachelor. She waved me over, showing off a picture of some guy in a white headscarf on her phone.

“Seriously, he’s a prince! See?”

She grinned and leaned in, lowering her voice. “Do you even know where Dubai is? It’s, like, the richest place ever—everybody drives Lamborghinis and there’s oil everywhere.”

Then she rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you just don’t get it. You’re just stuck in this small town, grinding at your nine-to-five. You wouldn’t understand.”

She flopped back onto the couch, planted her feet on the coffee table, and started scrolling through her phone with one hand. The microwave beeped in the background, but she didn’t budge. I watched her press her lips to the phone screen, blowing loud, exaggerated kisses.

But I was stunned. I was alive again.

I’d come back to the exact moment that changed everything—the day my stepsister first asked if she should meet her "Dubai prince" in real life.

“Hey, loser, hurry up and make me something to eat! I’m starving!”

She didn’t even look up. “And make me one of those detox smoothies or whatever—gotta glow up for my prince.”

Besides work, all I ever did at home was serve my stepsister and my stepmother. If they told me to jump, I was already in the air before I even knew why. Otherwise, if they complained to my dad, his heavy hand would come down on my face.

Detox smoothies, huh? Fine, I’ll make them for you. I’ll make you beautiful.

I glanced down at my hands, half-expecting to see the old scars—burns and knife nicks that never really healed. Out in the living room, the TV hummed with some trashy dating show while the stale scent of leftover takeout clung to the air.

“Wait, come here—I want to ask you something.”

My stepsister called out. I stopped and walked over.

She looked conflicted for once. “Going to Dubai to meet him… I don’t know. Plane tickets are crazy expensive.”

“Do you think I should go?”

Here it was—the question that could cost me my life.