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I turn my gaze to my sister. The golden girl. Perfect Melida.

Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect magic.

For years, looking at her made me catalog everything wrong with myself.

Today? I feel nothing. No, that's not true. I feel tired.

“Stay out of this, Melida.”

Her eyes widen.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Mother sucks in a breath.

“Belinda!”

“What?”

“You will not speak to your sister that way.”

A laugh escapes me. I can't help it.

Of course. Thirty-eight years old, and she's still scolding me for upsetting Melida.

“You came to my home uninvited, demanded that the man standing outside carry your bags, and now you're criticizing my life choices. I think I can speak however the hell I want.”

Damian makes a suspicious sound beside me. I glance up.

“Are you laughing?”

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sweet.”

His mouth twitches.

Liar.

Melida folds her arms.

“We came because you refused to be reasonable.”

“By reasonable, you mean giving you my inheritance?”

“It belongs to the Ramos family.”

“No.”

“It is Ramos magic.”

“No.”

“Aunt Margarita⁠—”

“Left it to me.”

My voice cracks across the garden. Magic answers. Gold sparks around my fingers, edged in red.