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I have a secret.

No, I need to tell you the truth: I have some secrets, and the one I'm going to talk about now isn't even the main one.

I'm an impersonator.

Not the kind that tries to make people smile by walking behind them on the streets, mirroring their actions.

Nothing even close.

I am an imitator of emotions and reactions.

I mimic, both speaking and acting, what I think people expect of me.

Once, when I was still a teenager, as I was walking around the island, I observed a chameleon. Initially, it was on top of a rock, and its color had blended with it, but then it got down and started walking amid the foliage. Its skin changed from the grayish tone of the rocks to shades of green.

I followed it around for a while, fascinated by its ability to adapt to its surroundings. One of my father's employees saw me watching the animal and explained that, contrary to what most people think, the chameleon doesn't just camouflage to defend itself from predators but also to hunt insects.

So color changes are as much a way to defend oneself as a means by which one can attack someone else.

I kept this information.

I pay a lot of attention to what people tell me. This fact in particular interested me because I'd had to be like a chameleon my whole life and hadn't even realized it.

Ever since my father explained to me what kind of person I was, I realized that the more I pretended, the less others could hurt me. If no one really knows you, no one will know your weaknesses.

This has worked well so far.

Today, I can say with certainty that not even those who are closest to me can guess what I'm thinking. Maybe because they don't pay attention, maybe because I imitate so well that no one can see that I'm just pretending, like an actress in a play.

I don't care as long as they can't hurt me.

Rarely does a situation make me nervous, since I don't really care about anything. I don't allow emotions to take over me, but today I'm shaking inside. I don't like having to deal with unforeseen circumstances. New situations frighten me, and tonight, in particular, there is one that is making me very anxious: the party given by Odin Lykaios, Aristeu’s nephew.

His uncle was my father's head gardener. Odin left the island many years ago, and now he has returned as a billionaire.

I overheard my dad explaining to Mom that we couldn't miss Odin’s reception, but what really surprised me was finding out that the mansion built on our private land belongs to him. I had already been confused when I found out my father was giving up some of our land for a stranger to build his house, but now knowing who bought it, I’m even more baffled.

My father has never liked to mingle with servants, whether they’ve become rich or not. For him, employees are classless and don't even deserve a second look.

About three years ago, Aristeu left our island, but it wasn’t even a week later that I found out why. That was another conversation I overheard. My father told one of the security guards that Aristeu was dying of terminal cancer. I even thought that we would help him with the expenses, but back then I didn't know that Odin was rich and didn't need anyone to take care of his uncle. So I called Theo, my younger brother, telling him what I had found out.

I don't often think about my brother, given that my father has forbidden us from even saying his name since he left us. Leaving the island was just another affront to our father. Theo never fully obeyed him, starting with his friendship with Orien, Aristeu’s son, which my father found unacceptable.

Orien, like his entire family, is inferior to us , Dad said.

Theo, however, didn't give a damn. He continued to see Orien every day, and anyone walking around the island could find the two of them talking.

After Orien left, it wasn't long before Theo left us too. I haven't seen my brother in at least eight years. We rarely talk on the phone, and when we do, we always argue.

He lives in America. I’ve seen pictures of him in some magazines and heard my father saying that he is working with actors in order to embarrass him.

I don't know why Theo left, but he never came back and I haven’t forgiven him for that. Looks like he totally forgot about our family.

Theo and my father always had problems. He was the one who was beaten the most. I mean, I barely got beaten up compared to my sisters and Theo; my father used to say he didn't like to spoil my beauty. This made the girls hate me, and to this day they are not my friends. After they got married, the situation only got worse.

What they don’t know is that the aggression I suffered came through words, and those hurt as much or more than the beatings they took.

I look at the dress lying on the bed. I don't want to go to the party. I don't like that man, and I know he doesn't like us either.

The only time we ever spoke, when I was still very young, Odin treated me like I was a bug. Much worse than that—he touched a weak spot.

I really don't understand why my dad is insisting on us going to this party. Is it because Odin is now rich? That could be it. My father only relates to people with a lot of money and power. He repeats that all the time.

Despite the dismay of having to meet that rude man again, it'll be a chance to get out of the house a little. We haven't had a party here in a long time, and as my job in life is to organize them, I haven’t had anything to do.

I start filling the bathtub while trying to figure out whether my father will now want us to be friends with Odin.

“Elina, if you keep stalling getting ready, we're going to be late.”

I look at my mother, and it's like seeing myself in a mirror. Her blonde hair now has some white streaks, but her body is tall and thin and we have the same green eyes. We look nothing like the rest of the family. My sisters are dark and short. The only one whose appearance comes close to the maternal English blood, other than myself, is Theo, but his hair is black like Leandros's.

God, I can't call him that, or he'll fight me again. I don't want to have to listen to the things he says when he's angry.

“I can get ready real quick,” I reply.

I try to guess what my mother is thinking as she looks at me from the doorway, but I can't. She, like me, has learned to hide her emotions. Also, my parents have been secretive lately. They’ve never talked much to their kids, but lately, every now and then, I catch them whispering to each other.

I don't mind their silence. To tell you the truth, I've gotten used to it, and it even feels weird when people ask me something. When you live with someone who always seems to see a flaw in everything you do or say, you learn to talk as little as possible.

It's not even that hard, because I don't like to talk. Only with myself and inside my head. When I miss listening to other people, I watch my favorite romance movies and cartoons. Besides, I prefer horseback riding—it's what I love to do.

I look back at my mother. She used to smile more. Today she looks like a crushed flower, torn from the stem, slowly dying.

“You don't want to go, do you?”

Instead of answering directly, I reply with another question. “ Mother, why are we going to that house? Dad has never been this close to an employee.”

“Odin Lykaios is no longer a servant but one of the most powerful men in the world. You know your father likes to be well-connected.”

“Is that why he sold part of our land to Odin?”

“I really don't know, but that's not a concern for us women. Have you forgotten how annoyed your father gets when we try to talk about his business?”

It's true. For my father, a woman's job is to have children, support her husband, and appear at social events.

I think differently.

Even though I have experience organizing parties here at home, I don't like people very much. At least, not the ones who usually come to our house. It's torture having to talk to our guests. By the end of the night, my face is always tense after giving so many fake smiles.

Anyway, it's still better than being forced to have a husband and a bunch of kids like my sisters.

“You should wear green. It makes your eyes stand out,” she says, pointing to the cream-colored dress on the bed. “Is it possible that you can't choose an outfit for yourself, Elina? What will happen to you when I'm gone?”

My heart starts beating really fast. She just touched on a subject I never allow myself to think about.

Death.

As much as our family is loveless and we haven't grown up attached to each other, I don't like to imagine that one day I'll be alone in the world.

“Don't say that, Mom. You are still very young.”I'm terrified of the idea. When my mother dies, I won't have anyone else.

“Who knows what God has in store for us?” she says.

To mask my fear, I go into my closet. I take out the green dress she suggested, even though I think it's too low-cut. “There you go. Here's the dress you like,” I say, trying to get her to stop talking about such an uncomfortable subject.

“You need to learn to take care of yourself. At least until you find a good man who can provide for your needs.”

I'm already heading to the bathroom, but I stop and look at her. My mother doesn't think a woman should have a career.

I would like to work. Go to university, study to be a veterinarian, and take care of horses for a living.

Sometimes, I look at pictures in magazines. I love photographs of horses and farms, although I know that the dream of studying them will never go beyond being that—a dream.

“You must wear makeup too. Today there will be many suitors there, and your father said that Sheik Naim will probably come. He's looking for a fourth wife, and it would be a privilege if he chose you.”

“I don't want to get married, least of all to a man who already has three wives. We are orthodox Catholics. How can you say something like that?”

“It doesn't matter what you want. It would be good for the family to attach our surname to someone so powerful. Besides, you're already thirty, Elina. Soon you'll be too old to bear a child.”

“I won't have children.”

“Don't talk such nonsense. Of course you will. If your father hears you say anything like that, we'll both be in trouble.”

I know she's right, but if I don't have the right to speak out loud, I can at least think freely.

Nobody will force me to marry.

I'll do whatever it takes to make sure the sheik doesn't notice my presence.