"Ms. Dickerson, this is your share transfer agreement. You're certain you want to resign?"
"I am."
The head of HR fixed her with a grave look. "Are you sure you don't want to inform Mr. Simmons? If you resign in secret and he finds out, he will freeze every account tied to you to bring you back."
I sat on the couch in the reception room without a word. I just nodded, hard.
I had decided to leave Simmons Group on our fifth wedding anniversary and walk away from a marriage the whole world envied.
Maybe this marriage had been a lie from the start. The seeds of doubt were planted the day I found the photo of Frederick Simmons and my adoptive sister tucked inside his briefcase.
On stormy nights, no matter how drunk he was, he would coax me to sleep first, then slip out without hesitation—just to comfort a sister who was afraid of thunder.
When I saw the half-stamped seal on our invalid marriage certificate, tears spilled down my face like a broken string of pearls. I drafted my resignation on the spot and booked a flight departing in seven days.
Frederick was away on a last-minute business trip on our anniversary. I stayed behind at the office to handle my departure. Out of nowhere, a voicemail arrived from him—warm, gentle, walking me through his itinerary for the day.
Meanwhile, every billboard screen across the city was cycling through highlights of our life together.
Countless drones spelled out my name in the sky. Rose petals drifted down like snow.
I stared out the window at the spectacle, my chest a tangle of emotions I couldn't name. In the hallway, employees crowded around, snapping photos and gushing.
After a few minutes of silence, a second audio file landed in my inbox—an intimate conversation between two people:
"My parents told me that sister of mine is pregnant. What am I supposed to do? We're the real married couple!"
"Relax, Agatha. So what if she has a kid? She's nothing but your stand-in."
"If you don't want it, I'll take her to the hospital myself whenever you say the word. She does everything I tell her—she really is a loyal little dog…"
What followed was unmistakable. The audio played on speaker, too loud, and every employee in the office went wide-eyed, not daring to breathe.
Seven days. In seven days I would leave this place for good—and leave him for good. I didn't spare a single glance at their stares. I set down my keys and walked out.
1
"Mom, Dad—I'm going to divorce Frederick."
"Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how good he is to you? Ungrateful wretch. You're not half as easy to deal with as Agatha."
Their insults poured through the phone without pause. When I couldn't take another second, I forwarded them the audio.
"You've known all along that Frederick was keeping Agatha. Haven't you."
Silence on the other end. I hung up without waiting for an answer and drove straight to a law firm to draft the divorce papers.
The day I found that photo of Frederick and Agatha, I'd also found stacks of round-trip flight itineraries—domestic and international—and receipts from luxury hotels I'd never set foot in.
I combed through every one of Agatha's social media accounts. A photo of them holding hands had been her profile banner all along.
There was even a shot of her in a wedding dress, flashing a diamond ring, kissing him full on the mouth. She hadn't even bothered to make it private.
Late that night, I called Frederick over and over. No one picked up.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth—something between a smile and a grimace—and started packing. That was when I found our wedding invitation buried among my things.
Tears pooled in my eyes. My vision blurred.
He had once shielded me in a multi-car pileup, wrapping his body around mine so completely that he was the one who ended up in critical condition—unconscious, nearly losing a limb, three days of emergency surgery before he opened his eyes.
On our wedding day, fireworks lit up the entire city just for us. He cried so hard he could barely speak, and afterward he tattooed my name on his skin as a vow of devotion. The whole city was moved by our love story.
And yet this same man—this man who seemed incapable of betrayal—had been keeping my adoptive sister all along. Had legally married her. Had deceived me so thoroughly that even I never saw through it.
I wiped my tears and was about to lie down when a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I can't believe I wasn't here for our anniversary…"
I drew a slow breath, loosened his grip, and hit play on the recording.
…
"What do you have to say?"
He explained that there really had been an emergency meeting that day, that he'd gotten drunk at a client dinner and blacked out.
When I gave him nothing, he pulled out his phone to prove he didn't even have her contact information.
"She's hated you for years—you know that. She's just trying to drive a wedge between us."
Frederick's eyes reddened, brimming with wounded sincerity. I pressed my lips together, brows tight, and chose not to tear his lies apart.
I tossed and turned all night. Frederick held me in silence, refusing to let even an inch of space come between us.
To make it up to me, he took me to a newly opened five-star restaurant and reserved every luxury boutique in the city for my private shopping.
After picking out a new diamond ring for me, Frederick said he wanted to take me for new wedding portraits.
We were almost at the studio when his phone rang. He turned the volume down as low as it would go, but I still caught Agatha's coy little voice on the other end.
"I heard a new dessert shop just opened on the south side of town. It would be amazing to get something fresh-made…"
A doting smile curved the corner of Frederick's mouth. He invented some excuse on the spot and dropped me on the side of the road.
I got out without a word. My heels clicked against the pavement the entire way to the bridal boutique. By the time I arrived, every senior design consultant was lined up to greet me.
The backs of my heels were raw and bleeding. I ignored their introductions.
I cut straight to the point, gesturing toward the display room—toward the gown I'd fallen in love with months ago. A saleswoman rushed over, all smiles:
"You must be Ms. Agatha Dickerson! How lucky you are—your husband reserved this piece months in advance. He even had it custom-altered to your measurements."
I froze. My smile locked in place like a mask. Before I could get a word out, several attendants swarmed in to help me into the dress.
They kept showering me with compliments—how perfectly the gown suited my figure, how it was made for someone with my elegance. Every word was a blade twisting deeper into my chest.
I still remembered that wedding—the one the whole city talked about. I'd chosen a simple, understated gown, and Agatha had sneered at it to my face, calling it cheap and poorly made.
Frederick had soothed me, told me not to let her get under my skin, and promised that one day he'd give me the most exquisite wedding dress in the world.
He had pulled every string he had to honor that promise. Years later, it was finally finished. The moment I saw the photos of the completed gown, I was captivated.
I had been so full of joy, so eager to see it on myself. And now it turned out to be Agatha's gift all along—tailored to her body.
Everything I'd been holding back shattered at once. I sobbed, my whole frame shaking.
The attendants saw me trembling and assumed I was overcome with happiness. They rushed to dab the tears from my cheeks.
They were nearly done with the final lacing when the ribbons refused to close. The measurements were wrong. The staff exchanged bewildered glances.
When I finally steadied myself enough to speak, my voice came out low and even:
"I'm not Agatha Dickerson. And I won't have a husband much longer."
"This dress isn't mine either. Something this tasteless wouldn't interest me anyway."
I waved my hand in dismissal. I didn't want to look at the gown for another second. I swiped my card, then told the staff to burn it right there in front of me. Out of sight, out of mind.
2The firelight played across my face. By the time it was over, dusk had settled in, and I went home alone.
Days of insomnia had left me in a fog. I'd just brewed a pot of coffee and was about to sit down when my phone started buzzing nonstop.
An unknown account sent me photos. I stared at them, transfixed, and didn't notice the coffee cup slipping from my hands until it shattered on the floor.
A shard of glass sliced into my shin. I didn't feel it.
In the photos, silky hair spilled across Frederick's back. The dim lighting only made the outline of their bodies more unmistakable.
The diamond ring on her hand glinted so brightly it was impossible to ignore. My eyes went wide when I spotted the vanity box I'd always treasured sitting on the table behind them. It used to live in the passenger seat of his car.
The video was grainy, but the audio was crystal clear.
"When are you going to go public with me? I'm the one who sent her that recording. Time she learned her place."
"Relax. You're my only real wife. Once she gives birth, she's served her purpose."
Their silhouettes tangled together, and the sound of heavy breathing drowned out everything else.
I was shaking all over. I ripped the ring off my finger and hurled it across the room. It struck the framed photo of us, the one already yellowed with age, and the glass exploded.
So that was it. My only value was to carry on the Simmons family line. No wonder my parents had never been so thrilled about anything as they were when they heard I was pregnant.
The rage at Frederick's betrayal, at my parents' favoritism, at every swallowed grievance, all of it came pouring out at once.
By midnight, I sat hollow and spent, one hand resting on my swollen belly, dried tear tracks streaking my face.
Once I'd made the decision to raise this child alone, I sent an email to my former business partner, Joseph.
Dawn broke, and Frederick finally came home. The moment he saw me curled up on the couch, he pulled me into his arms.
"Baby, why do you look so worn out? Is the little one giving you trouble?"
He rubbed my frozen hands between his, his eyes brimming with concern.
My voice came out flat and cold. "It's nothing. I stepped on some broken glass."
Only then did he notice the shards scattered across the floor and the blood still trickling down my shin.
Before I could say another word, he scooped me up and carried me to the car, calling ahead to put every doctor in the city on standby.
"I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have left you alone like that. That's on me. I'm taking you to the hospital right now."
I told him clearly it wasn't serious, but Frederick insisted on running every test imaginable.
"If anything happened to you, I wouldn't know how to go on. I promised I'd take care of you for the rest of your life."
He didn't leave my side for a single second, and only exhaled when every last result came back.
All the other markers were normal, but one line was flagged in bold: acute emotional distress and depression.
Frederick panicked. His only worry was that it might affect the baby's health.
He assumed it was pregnancy hormones. To keep me calm and protect the baby, he suggested taking me to a gala at Greystone Winery.
The next morning, a custom-tailored apricot gown was draped over the headboard. Frederick had stayed up all night teaching himself a fashionable updo. He did my hair and makeup himself, then drove me to the winery.
It was a private estate, but the wine collection was staggering. Frederick knew I loved a good vintage, and every bottle my gaze lingered on for even a second, he bought on the spot.
Spending a fortune just to make me smile. The extravagance turned heads all around us.
My injured leg slowed me down, and I gradually fell behind him.
Most of the guests were Simmons Group business partners. They crowded around him, ribbing him good-naturedly.
"Mr. Simmons, spending a fortune to win a beauty's smile! There were a few rare bottles I had my eye on, and you snatched them right out from under me!"
"Frederick, that most prized vintage of yours, any chance you'd let me have it? Ten times the price, name it."
I listened to all of it and felt nothing.
Frederick waved them off without a glance. "Nothing matters more than Agatha. I only listen to her."
The corner of my mouth twitched. I pretended I hadn't heard that name. My expression didn't change.
Ignoring the small talk, Frederick took my hand and led me down into the winery's underground ballroom.
Through the shifting crowd, a flash of red caught my eye. A familiar figure.
Then the sound of a wine glass shattering cut through the noise, and every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward the same spot.
3The champagne tower at center stage came crashing down in a cascade of glass and liquid, shards flying in every direction.
"What's wrong with you, young lady? You can't even walk without slamming into me, and now you've knocked the whole thing over!" Mr. Finch, Frederick's business partner, barked at the culprit.
The woman across from him said nothing, her face a picture of helpless resignation.
Anyone with eyes could see that Mr. Finch's suit was worth a small fortune, and now it was drenched in champagne. The temperature in the room plummeted.
The commotion drew our attention. The moment Frederick's gaze locked onto the woman responsible, something shifted in him. I felt it in the way his hand released mine.
He was about to walk over when I accidentally stepped on the edge of a tablecloth. A row of glasses tipped and nearly cascaded onto me. Frederick's reflexes kicked in. He grabbed me and pulled me close, shielding my stomach.
Shards of glass sliced into my hand. Blood ran freely between my fingers. He didn't even glance at it.
"Libby, are you alright? Just rest here for a minute. My friend seems to have run into some trouble."
The crowd was thick, but through the gaps between onlookers, I spotted a pair of eyes I knew all too well.
My adoptive sister, Agatha. Dramatic as ever. She stood there in a scarlet dress, her expression dripping with contempt, utterly unbothered by the powerful man she'd just offended.
Frederick cut through the crowd and positioned himself in front of Mr. Finch, tucking Agatha behind him.
"Mr. Finch, it's such a wonderful evening. Don't let this ruin your mood. You mentioned earlier you wanted some of the wine I ordered? However many bottles you'd like, they're yours."
Frederick was all smiles and flattery. When Mr. Finch's expression finally softened, Frederick quickly had someone bring out a fresh suit.
Agatha stayed behind him the entire time, gazing up at him with naked adoration as he smoothed everything over for her.
After enough reassurances, the crisis passed. The crowd dispersed. Frederick finally let out a long breath.
In a quiet corner near the stage, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. "Why are you back? Mr. Finch is one of our most important partners. How could you be so careless—"
Before he could finish, Agatha threw herself into his arms, unable to contain herself any longer. "It's been days. Didn't you miss me? I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't tell you I was coming."
His reaction wasn't what she'd expected. Frederick flinched, startled, then glanced around nervously. His eyes landed directly on me, standing right there, watching them both.
"When did you get back? It's been a while, Agatha." I walked toward them, keeping my voice even.
Agatha didn't let go of Frederick's arm. Her words, though, came laced with thorns. "It really has been a while. You still look terrible, sis."
"What's the matter? Hasn't your dear husband been taking good care of you?" She let out a derisive laugh, her eyes glittering with scorn. "Or maybe it's not you he's been taking care of."
I wasn't about to swallow that kind of provocation. I stepped forward, ready to put her in her place, but Frederick blocked my path.
"Libby, calm down. She's just joking around."
"Agatha, why don't you pour your sister a glass of water?" He gestured toward a cup nearby.
Frederick shot Agatha a look. She played obedient, picked up the cup, and brought it over with an apology.
I didn't want to accept anything from her. But Agatha kept pressing, and in the end, I took it.
My throat was parched. I drank it all in one gulp. Instantly, a searing burn tore through my mouth and spread down my throat. I collapsed to the floor, curling into myself, screaming. "My stomach—it hurts!" The sound drew a crowd.
The cup shattered on the ground. Agatha stumbled back, wide-eyed, turning helplessly toward Frederick. But beneath the panic, a flicker of satisfaction crossed her face.
Her hands trembled. She didn't dare come closer. Frederick swallowed hard, frozen for a beat, then scooped me into his arms and rushed for the hospital.
But it was already too late. Hours of induced vomiting and stomach pumping couldn't undo what the concentrated alcohol had done. My baby was gone.
I couldn't believe what the doctor was telling me. The child I had hoped for, prayed for, wished into existence—taken by a single glass of Agatha's "water."
When they wheeled me out of the emergency room, I had no strength left. My eyes were hollow. Tears had dried in streaks across my face.
Voices drifted down the corridor outside. Faint, but I caught every word.
"Frederick, what do we do now? I only gave it to her because you told me to. I didn't think it would actually make her miscarry!"
"How could you be so careless? That child was the only reason I've been putting up with this."
"Forget it. It's fine. We'll just have her get pregnant again."
"Relax. When the time comes, act sweet and beg her forgiveness. She can't really do anything to you. Besides, I'm the one who told you to hand her that drink."
Frederick's tone was light, almost bored, though a trace of regret flickered in his eyes.
My breathing turned ragged. My eyes went wide. Frederick had only ever cared about the baby. Not once had he worried about whether I lived or died. The child was gone, and the grief crushed down on my chest like a physical weight, suffocating and relentless.
After I was moved to a private room, the two of them finally appeared. Agatha stood beside the bed, clinging to Frederick's arm with a look of helpless distress. Rage boiled through me. I glared at them both with every ounce of hatred I had.
"I'm so sorry, sis. It was an accident. I grabbed the wrong one. It's all my fault. Whatever you need while you recover, I'll do it." Agatha's face was the portrait of remorse. She clutched my ice-cold hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I wrenched my hand free with what little strength I had and turned away. Watching these two wolves perform their little act made my stomach turn.
I lay in that hospital bed, hollowed out. Frederick made a few perfunctory arrangements and left.
"Agatha just got back. I need to get her settled in. Libby, you focus on resting."
As if the child he'd lost wasn't his. I couldn't detect a single trace of grief in him. The coldness of it left me speechless. I spent the next few days recovering alone.
But the sterile chill of the hospital was more than I could bear. I asked to go home to recuperate. Frederick said he needed to finish looking after Agatha first. I shook my head in quiet disappointment.
Early the next morning, Frederick and Agatha left ahead of me. By the time they arrived home, my parents were waiting at the door with open arms.
"Welcome home, Agatha! Mom and Dad have had dinner ready for hours!"
Frederick had even tidied himself up for the occasion, all to welcome Agatha back.
After I finished the discharge paperwork, I went home alone. No one noticed I'd arrived.
4Ever since my parents adopted Agatha when I was ten, their love had slowly tilted toward her.
She was sweet and adorable, the kind of girl who made people want to protect her. But her love life was a disaster. After a string of breakups, cheating boyfriends, and ugly fights, my parents only grew more protective of their youngest daughter.
Then I met Frederick. Out of sheer jealousy, Agatha tried to sabotage the relationship. She faked a suicide attempt by swallowing pills, though the dose wasn't enough to do real damage. My parents caught her in time.
She blamed me. Said I'd driven her to it. After that, they grew even colder toward me, convinced I was some vicious, jealous creature.
After the wedding, my parents barely kept in touch. All their energy went to worrying about how Agatha was doing.
Even so, I had no choice but to come back. Frederick had arranged everything.
Now, sitting together again, the dining table was loaded with dish after dish. It had been so long since I'd tasted my parents' cooking. The first bite loosened something tight in my chest.
Frederick sat beside me, piling food onto my plate without pause. My parents clustered around Agatha on the other side of the table, asking about her life.
"How long are you staying this time, sweetie? Why don't you spend a few nights here with us?"
Mom's face was all warmth as she heaped food onto Agatha's plate. Agatha said she just wanted to stay and take care of me.
I didn't respond. I just watched my parents. Not a single word about my miscarriage. All they cared about was rolling out the red carpet for their precious younger daughter.
Agatha noticed Frederick serving me and let out a teasing little laugh. "My brother-in-law is so good to you, sis. Nobody does that for me except Mom and Dad."
I scoffed. "What are you, five?"
Agatha's face twisted. She rolled her eyes, then caught my parents looking and instantly rearranged her expression into something wounded and pitiful.
Frederick's chopsticks hovered, then slowly lowered back to the table. "She didn't mean anything by it," he said quietly. "Do you have to go after her like that?"
Dad took one look at Agatha's hurt expression and turned on me. "Your sister just got home! Would it kill you to be civil?"
He pivoted right back to soothing Agatha, then disappeared into the kitchen and returned with bowls of mango tapioca pudding to cheer her up.
Agatha's eyes darted sideways. She picked up a bowl and carried it to me with both hands. "Dad worked so hard on this. You should have the first taste, sis."
I turned my face away. I couldn't stand watching her perform. The smell of mango alone was enough to make my stomach lurch. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw every person at that table staring at me.
"Your sister is being so thoughtful. Just drink it, or you'll hurt her feelings." My parents closed in, their voices gentle but suffocating.
I was severely allergic to mango. When I was ten, I'd accidentally eaten some and spent a week in the hospital. But they'd forgotten all of that. The only thing they remembered was that Agatha's favorite dessert was mango tapioca pudding.
I stared at them, wide-eyed. No words came.
I turned to Frederick.
He frowned, giving me a look that said just do it. Don't make this awkward. "It's a dessert. How hard can it be? Does the whole family have to bend to your every whim?"
I said nothing. When it was clear I wasn't going to give in, Agatha kept up her sweet act and pushed some of the other dishes toward me.
Then she flashed a sly little grin and locked eyes with Frederick. A subtle nod passed between them. Frederick could smell the mango, but he picked up his chopsticks and started loading food onto my plate anyway.
"If you can't manage the dessert, at least eat something. It's your family's way of showing love. We're all together for once. Just humor them."
The passive aggression was impossible to miss. Before I could react, Frederick lifted a piece of food to my mouth and pushed it in.
The moment it hit my throat, I gagged and spat it out. Mango fibers. My skin flushed red almost instantly, hives blooming across my arms. My breathing turned shallow and ragged.
Just as I'd expected. An allergic reaction.
Agatha stumbled backward and collapsed to the floor in theatrical shock. My parents rushed to shield her, pulling her away so she wouldn't have to see my swollen, blotchy face. Frederick hurried over to comfort her too.
I staggered to the bathroom and shoved my fingers down my throat, retching until there was nothing left. I found the medication myself. It took thirty minutes before my body slowly returned to something close to normal.
I leaned against the wall, gasping. Once my heartbeat steadied, I decided to stay in the bathroom a while longer. I had no desire to rejoin that farce of a dinner.
After another fifteen minutes, I'd finally calmed down. I reached for the door handle and froze.
My mother's voice, just outside.
"You two already made her lose the baby last time. You need to watch how far you push things. Today you nearly killed her!"
A pause, then: "You just found out you're pregnant yourself. Think about the child in your belly and show some restraint."
Rage detonated inside my chest. My eyes went wide. Agatha was pregnant too? My parents already knew? They knew about my allergy and they'd still let Agatha pull this stunt?
My heart plummeted. The pain in my chest felt like something being carved out of me with a dull blade. I wiped my tears, forced air into my burning lungs, and threw the door open.
"What the hell did you just say, Mom?" I was shaking. "Agatha made me lose my baby on purpose? And you helped her do it?"
I screamed it. In my fury, I hurled the miscarriage report straight at her face, demanding to know why not one of them had asked me a single question about losing my child.
"Who is your real daughter here?" I roared.
"I already apologized, sis." Agatha's voice was soft, her expression the picture of innocence. "If you're angry, take it out on me. Don't yell at Mom."
The sight of that rehearsed, doe-eyed look made bile rise in my throat. I snatched the bowl of tapioca pudding and upended it over her head, then smashed the bowl on the floor.
She yelped and hopped around as the warm liquid ran down her scalp, screaming that I was insane. My mother joined in, calling me a lunatic, shooting me a look of pure disgust before dragging Agatha to the bathroom to clean up.
Frederick grabbed my arm and tried to hold me still. "Calm down. She didn't know you were allergic. You're fine now, so just let it go."
I shoved him off and called him exactly what he was: a fraud. An actor playing a role.
The commotion brought my father storming in. One look at the scene and he seized my arm and wrenched me aside. There was nothing in his eyes but contempt. "How dare you talk to your mother like that!"
The force of it sent my lower back crashing into the corner of the table. The old injury in my spine flared white-hot. I couldn't straighten up. I crumpled to the floor, writhing, and the three of them just stood there looking down at me like I was something foul they'd found on the bottom of a shoe.
In that moment, everything finally clicked into place. To them, I was nothing but a tool. A blood bank. The family love I'd spent my whole life reaching for had never existed.
I gathered every ounce of strength I had left and dragged myself upright. The pain was blinding, but I walked out without looking back.
Outside, snow was falling in thick, heavy flakes. I pulled out my phone and called Joseph Lawrence.
"I need a favor."
5I wiped my tears dry and made my way to a run-down apartment building. Aunt Harriet had been waiting for me for a long time.
I had nothing left now. Nothing except the aunt who loved me most in this world. She was the only one who had ever truly cared for me, the only one who had ever stood up for me, from the time I was small.
She steadied me with trembling hands as I stepped through the door. "Libby, your hands are freezing. I already made you a cup of your favorite hot cocoa. Drink it while it's warm."
Aunt Harriet was the only family member who had ever been good to me. A car accident years ago had left her paralyzed from the waist down, confined to a wheelchair ever since.
She warmed my icy hands in hers while I sipped the cocoa and poured out everything that had happened.
Her eyes glistened when she heard it all. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart. They don't cherish you, but I do."
I buried my face in her lap and let my whole body go slack. She was the only thing tying me to this place. Every good memory from my childhood had her in it.
She had never been able to stand the way my parents poured everything into Agatha, their precious biological daughter, and blamed me whenever there was a conflict for not yielding to my little sister.
All those countless times they left me behind and went out as a family of three, it was Aunt Harriet who came to pick me up and take me home. In my eyes, she was my real mother.
The thought made my nose sting. I couldn't hold back the quiet sobs. She thought I was cold, and she shifted to wrap her arms around me, pulling me close.
That night, for the first time in what felt like forever, I slept soundly. I didn't wake until the sun was high overhead, the smell of a home-cooked meal drifting into the room. Aunt Harriet had already prepared all my favorite dishes.
She was a wonderful cook, and I ate until I was full and content. She worried about my body after the miscarriage and wanted me to rest and build my strength back up.
"Libby, you stay here and rest. I'm going out to pick up some herbal supplements for you."
She insisted on going alone. All she wanted was for me to stay home and recover. I didn't feel right about it, but there was no arguing with her.
She had barely been gone a minute when I heard a scream.
"Help!"
I threw open the door and found her on the ground, crumpled beside her overturned wheelchair.
"Aunt Harriet!" I dropped to my knees and gathered her up, struggling to lift her. Then I saw the blood covering my hands. A scream tore out of me, and I called an ambulance immediately.
In the back of the ambulance, my breathing came in ragged gasps. She kept drifting in and out of consciousness, mumbling my name. My vision blurred with tears as I pressed close to her, gripping her hand so tight my knuckles went white, terrified that something terrible was happening.
I paced outside the examination room, grabbing every doctor who walked in or out, begging for an update.
The wait dragged on, unbearable. I needed air and turned toward the window, only to come face to face with Frederick and Agatha.
Frederick was at her side, one hand supporting her arm, the other holding a prenatal report.
"Everything looks great. All the markers are normal." He nodded with satisfaction. "This baby is going to be perfectly healthy."
Agatha's face glowed with smugness. "Of course it will. I'm not like my sister, that useless waste who couldn't even keep a baby alive."
I didn't want to see them. I turned to leave, but walked right into them.
"Oh, sis! What are you doing here?" Agatha's voice dripped with mock concern. "Another allergic reaction? Or did you lose another baby?"
Her eyes landed on the worn knitted cap in my hands, and she snatched it away.
"God, how tacky."
"That's my aunt's hat. Give it back." My glare could have cut glass. I ripped it out of her grip.
Aunt Harriet had never had any use for either of them. She only tolerated them for my sake. After her accident left her in a wheelchair, neither of them had visited her once.
Agatha and Frederick exchanged a glance, taking a long moment before they even realized who I was talking about.
"Oh, that crippled old woman?" A cruel smile played across Agatha's lips. "She's still alive?"
"Your aunt was never exactly pleasant, Libby." Frederick reached for my arm. "You should stop wasting your time on that dead weight and come home."
I wrenched free of his hand, spun around, and slapped Agatha across the face. Hard. Again. And again.
Everyone froze. The woman who had always been gentle and composed was now striking with everything she had.
"If you ever insult my aunt again, next time it won't be your face I go after."
Agatha shrieked that I'd lost my mind and lunged at me. I sidestepped at the last second and she flew past, slamming face-first into the wall.
"You bitch!" Agatha howled, blood streaming from her nose as she clutched her face.
Frederick looked between the two of us, both burning with fury, and realized nothing he said would make a difference. He grabbed Agatha and hauled her away.
I looked down at my stinging palm, and for the first time in a long time, something inside me unclenched.
6The test results finally came back. The doctor's hesitant expression made my blood run cold.
They'd found a tumor. Aunt Harriet needed surgery immediately. The success rate was high, but the cost was staggering.
She must have known for a while. She hadn't wanted to burden me, and that was why she'd let it go this long.
I agreed without a second thought. But when I tried to swipe my card, the system flagged it for verification. I had no choice but to call Frederick and explain the situation.
"Don't waste the money. You just hurt Agatha. Getting her treated is more important right now." He hung up.
I was frantic. I scrolled through every contact on my phone, and in the end, I called Joseph.
He didn't ask questions. He wired several million dollars and told me to spend whatever I needed. I thanked him over and over, then worked with the doctor to schedule the surgery right away.
Meanwhile, Agatha was staring at her reddened cheek in a mirror, grinding her teeth with rage. Frederick rushed to soothe her. "It's all Libby's fault. Don't be upset, Agatha. Here, take this new black card. Buy whatever you want."
Agatha took the card and finally stopped crying, though the fury still simmered beneath the surface.
"She loves that old woman so much she'd beg and borrow just to pay for surgery," Frederick mused, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "Imagine how devastated she'd be if the surgery failed."
He called the hospital shortly after and made all the arrangements.
The next morning, Aunt Harriet was wheeled into the operating room. I waited outside, watching the clock. A procedure that should have taken two hours stretched to four.
When the medical staff finally emerged, they brought only one piece of news: Aunt Harriet was dead.
My entire body shook. "The success rate was practically guaranteed. How could it fail? Why did it take so long?"
The attending physician stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. It was a young nurse beside him who spoke up. "Mr. Simmons said it was just a minor procedure, so only an intern was assigned. The chief surgeon was called away hours ago to attend to Miss Dickerson..."
The nurse and the intern stood there with sweat beading on their foreheads. It had been their very first surgery. The outcome was inevitable.
The blow shattered something inside me. My body went ice-cold. Nausea surged up my throat until I was doubled over, dry-heaving. It felt like plummeting into a bottomless abyss. The two of them had done something so unconscionably evil, and Aunt Harriet had paid the price.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms, then slammed them against the wall again and again until my strength gave out and I collapsed to the floor. Aunt Harriet's knitted cap was clutched in my hands, soaked through with tears.
The intern rushed to help me up. "Before the anesthesia, the patient kept calling your name. She wanted you to take care of yourself and get some rest."
I wiped my eyes and forced myself to hold it together. The surgical light went dark. They wheeled her out. I threw my arms around Aunt Harriet's cold body and held on. The one person in this world who had truly loved me was gone forever.
I handled the funeral alone. Sorting through her belongings, the cremation, arranging the headstone. I hadn't closed my eyes in over twenty-four hours.
Hardly anyone came. I called my parents to let them know, but they hung up before I could finish.
"She only ever cared about you, didn't she? Then you can mourn her by yourself."
They couldn't have cared less. All they told me was to hurry up and come home for a family gathering to celebrate Agatha's pregnancy.
I hated them down to the marrow of my bones. I swore silently over that grave that I would get justice for Aunt Harriet and make every last one of them pay. The family gathering would be the perfect opportunity to drag their filth into the light and turn them against each other.
I nodded obediently, playing the dutiful daughter. But the plan was already taking shape in my mind.
I stood before Aunt Harriet's headstone for a long time, saying nothing. A fine rain began to fall. Frederick appeared beside me, holding an umbrella over my head. "Libby, my condolences. Given your aunt's condition, maybe passing on was a mercy."
I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "For me, leaving would be a mercy too."
Frederick didn't understand what I meant. He moved to lay flowers at the grave, but Agatha's voice cut in from a distance.
"Are we done yet? When are we leaving?" Impatience was written all over her face. She'd shown up to the funeral, but inside, she was happier than anyone.
"Go ahead without me. I want to be alone." I pushed Frederick away and let the rain soak through me.
After the funeral, I called Joseph to thank him, and to ask for one more favor.
"Of course. You never have to be polite with me."
"I've already made the introductions here. Whenever you're ready, there's a seat on the board waiting for you."
He sent over a series of documents. I looked them over and nodded, satisfied.
7When I got home, I packed up my personal belongings and came across the old love letters, along with every expensive gift he'd ever given me.
I sorted through all of it, then burned every last letter. The luxury gifts I sold off, down to the final piece.
The money went to a disability charity in Aunt Harriet's name. A small comfort for her spirit, wherever she was.
That evening, before the family gathering, I wasn't feeling well. When I stepped into the bathroom, I noticed bloodstained tissue in the trash. Someone was on her period.
Instinct told me something was off. I crept downstairs and rifled through Agatha's things until I found her prenatal report. Sure enough, same old trick. The report was forged.
I tucked myself into a corner and watched. Agatha slipped into the bathroom with a bottle of painkillers, thinking no one saw her.
I texted Joseph immediately. Five minutes later, he sent me Agatha's real medical report.
Night fell, and the family gathering was in full swing. The house had been decorated like a fairytale castle. Agatha was dolled up to perfection, but no amount of makeup could hide the exhaustion written across her face.
My parents were celebrating Agatha's pregnancy, announcing that she'd already found a boyfriend and they were planning the wedding.
When everyone raised their glasses, I turned and handed Agatha a slice of cake. "Have some more, sis. Pregnancy must be exhausting." I paused, letting my smile settle. "Faking one must be even worse."
"Faking it?" Every eye in the room went wide. Agatha broke into a cold sweat, and the cake slipped from her fingers, splattering across the floor.
"Have you lost your mind?" Frederick shot to his feet and pulled her behind him. My parents told me to stop talking nonsense.
I smiled and tossed the real medical report onto the table, followed by the evidence that the two of them had been siphoning my parents' assets.
"You two might want to stop protecting them," I said, tilting my head toward my parents. "Unless you somehow haven't noticed that they've bled you dry."
My father's face went white. He snatched up the documents. Once the truth sank in, he wheeled on Frederick with a roar. "What is this? You told me you were using Libby's money!"
Frederick stood there with nothing to say. He turned to me, expecting me to explain, to smooth things over. I didn't say a word. Instead, I pulled out the divorce papers I'd had drawn up long ago.
"From this moment on, your problems are no longer mine. Consider this your official notice: you're leaving this marriage with nothing."
My parents' assets were now entirely in my name. Everything they'd handed over to Agatha had been clawed back by force. All those two would inherit were the loan shark debts Agatha had racked up.
The divorce agreement gave me the lion's share of Frederick's wealth as well.
Within seconds the room erupted. Frederick demanded to know how long Agatha had been lying to him. My parents grabbed Frederick, shouting about why they were drowning in debt. Agatha crumbled, clutching her head and sobbing, unable to get a single word out.
What had been a picture-perfect family dinner dissolved into chaos. I watched them shove and scream and point fingers, each one blaming the others, and all I felt was a quiet, bone-deep satisfaction.
I turned and walked out the door. Joseph's car was already waiting. The moment I climbed in, I pulled the new diamond ring off my finger and tossed it out the window.
"What's going on in there?" Joseph glanced toward the house. "I could hear the shouting from out here."
"Don't worry about it. Just a pack of selfish people choking on what they deserve."
I powered off my phone, tossed it onto the curb, and never looked back.