Prologue

2 Years Ago…

Rhett

"Once upon a time, there lived a loving father with two children: Hansel and Gretel. They were the closest you could be as brother and sister, since they lost their mother young. With five years between them, the older sibling always looked out for the younger, making sure he grew up to be smart and–"

"Wow, you really think highly of yourself," my little brother Hansel interrupted. He was tucked into the full bed we shared, hazel eyes narrowed while trying to hide his amusement. He really was smart, though I probably had very little to do with it.

"Hush, I'm telling the bedtime story." I tutted my tongue as if offended.

"I'm almost thirteen." Hansel rolled his eyes and crossed defiant arms over a narrow chest to pout. He was skinnier than he should be, but Father and I always made sure he had enough to eat. Hansel was getting to that age where he felt too grown for childish things, but still pouted to get his way. "I don't need bedtime stories. Also, it's barely even dark outside."

"You have school in the morning, and it's my story, so be quiet."

Raising an eyebrow in imitation of the expression our mother used before she passed, Hansel stopped talking. It worked, so I went on.

"The two of them took care of each other, and their father, living in a cabin at the edge of the woods. Until one day, Gretel told Hansel that he was really a boy… and his name was Rhett. Hansel took it in stride, and Rhett was happy.

Their father, Noah, was a woodcutter and his job didn't pay very well. Noah often went without so that his children could be fed. They loved him very much. Their father— having grown up in the small Bavarian village of Kleinholz—was confused but accepting about Rhett, and vowed to keep his children safe. Secretly, they tried to keep him safe as well–"

The front door opening and the sound of boots on the worn wood floors drew my attention. "I'm never going to finish this story," I complained under my breath.

Hansel giggled.

Then our father's deep voice called out, "Hansel, Rhett, are you in bed already?"

"Yes, Father," Hansel replied, throwing the covers back and rushing out of the room before I'd even stood up. "Oh."

We tried to conserve power, so I grabbed the solar lantern meant for camping from the nightstand and carried it with me. The cabin only had three rooms total, plus a tiny washroom. The two bedrooms were small, though our father had switched us to the bigger one when our mother died. He argued there were two of us and one of him, but he slept on the couch more often than in his room, too exhausted from work and grief to make it to a bed.

The main space had a kitchen on one side, a table with four chairs in the middle, and a couch by the fireplace. Still, it held some of the hominess our mother had infused with the checkered curtains and crocheted throw blankets in a large wicker basket.

It was small, but it was home.

The reason for Hansel's "oh," stuck out like a sore thumb. The woman standing beside my father wore high-heeled sandals despite the cool autumn weather, her bleach-blonde hair was slicked back into a severe bun, and she held a fancy-looking purse close to her body as if we would try to rob her. Her painted-on lips looked like they were trying to smile, but she smelled something nasty instead. She held herself as if better than everyone around her, yet was completely plain.

Stopping short in the doorway to the main room, I was still trying to process the aberration before me when Father spoke. "Boys, this is Helga Müller."

"Hello, Helga," Hansel offered politely, glancing back at me with a pinched expression. I could tell he wanted to ask if I knew why she was there, but I didn't have any answers for him.

Our father met my eyes and I realized how rude I was being, standing there and not greeting her. He'd raised us with more manners than that. Crossing the room in a few steps, I held my hand out to shake. "Hello, I'm Rhett."

Helga hesitated—though it was so fast I wasn't sure I'd seen it—then laid her bright-red acrylic nail claws daintily on top of my hand for the briefest of moments. Her voice came out overly sweet and dismissive at once. "Charmed, I'm sure."

All right then. First impressions mattered, and I didn't like Helga.

Maybe she was from the company Father reported to, Holzhauer, or a tutor for Hansel, but I hoped she wasn't staying long. "What brings you here?" I asked, only to be polite and figure out how much time I'd have to be around her.

"Well, ah…" Father rubbed the back of his neck and glanced between Helga and the two of us in our pajamas. His cheeks pinkened above his thick beard before he went on, "You see, Ms. Müller and I have started spending time together at work, she's the receptionist, and–"

"We're dating," Helga said bluntly with a tittering giggle as if she wasn't clearly over thirty. Though with how much makeup she wore, I couldn't be sure. "I wanted to meet you both, since you're so important to your father."

This was weird. Our mother died ten years before, when Hansel was still in diapers, and Father had never dated. He said she was the great love of his life and we were the only other love he needed. I didn't know how to respond to this sudden news.

"I hope you'll welcome Ms. Müller for dinner soon." Father spoke softly, but with an undertone of authority. We needed to be nice, because she was sticking around.

"Of course." I nodded, knowing dinner would fall to me. Father didn't get paid until the end of the week though. "Perhaps this Friday?"

"Sounds lovely," Helga replied as if I offered to feed her worms.

Yes, lovely.

Helga said goodbye soon after, before Father took her back outside to his car to drive her home. Hansel and I looked out the window and saw them kiss, and we knew it was real.

She came over for dinner Friday, which meant we had little to eat the week after. He saw her every day at work and brought her by about once a week after that.

Basically, the only woman my father was ever around, and she had her eyes set on him. He seemed to light up under her attention, and it was hard to begrudge him that.

Helga made us dinner the following week, bringing a roast, multiple sides, and even dessert. She played up the domestic woman role, smiling and being sweet when my father was looking, but never sparing a word or friendly glance when he left the room. Hansel and I didn't like Helga, but we did like seeing our father so happy.

That was when my father proposed.

Helga and Father married a month later in a civil ceremony, and he promised things would get better with two salaries and a mother figure in our lives. Hansel and I tried to stay positive, though Helga and Father reclaimed the bigger room, so I was relegated to the couch. I still didn't like her, but I kept it to myself. Maybe Father was right, and things would be better for us.

Until she lost her job a year later and things got worse.

Father pushed himself harder and ate less, getting sick more often and never calling off work. He was injured at work, and soon became bedridden. Hansel and Helga shared most of our food, and I dropped out of school to pick up odd jobs when I wasn't caring for him. Life was hard, and Helga wasn't kind about her lot.

We had been a happy family, until our father met Helga.