"Happy 18th Birthday, Caden!" The chant rolled over the floorboards like thunder. Glass clinked. Laughter snapped. The sound seeped into the basement and shook dust onto my face. I lay on the cold concrete, forehead pressed to the damp wall, and counted the beats between their voices. One—Helena's laugh, thin and clipped. Two—Caden's victory laugh, full and cruel. Three—Richard's heavy, approving grunt. The sound map of the house told me everything I needed to know. A crack in the door was my window. Through that crack I saw the chandelier. I saw Caden's grin as he ripped the ribbon off a miniature model car on the mantel. I saw the way guests circled him like satellites. I saw the top of a chocolate cake, glossy and untouched, sitting on a silver platter. It was the closest thing to a sun this house had for me. "To our son," someone toasted. Forks scraped. Paper chatter swelled. "To the golden boy," Caden said. He tipped his glass and the room cheered. His smile landed on the crack right above my head. For a moment he looked right at me. Parlor lights painted his teeth like coins. "Rat in the basement," he had joked last month. The joke stuck. Liked it. Repeated it. Their laughter had become a harness I could not slip from. I didn't answer. A plate scraped. Someone leaned down. I held my breath. The floor shivered under footsteps. Dust rained. Helena