Chapter 3

Elia POV:

My laughter echoed in the quiet space, brittle and cold. "Saints," I repeated, the word a bitter taste in my mouth. They were indeed viewed as the epitome of the charitable, devoted couple, wrapped in a narrative of shared trauma and unwavering love. Christian, the steadfast husband; Gidget, the resilient survivor. And me? I was the forgotten villain, the unstable sister who had caused her so much pain.

He still believed her. He still believed her lies, her carefully constructed facade of victimhood. The thought was a familiar knot in my stomach, one I had long learned to live with.

I had loved him once, with a fierce, unwavering devotion that defied logic. Christian. My first love, my only love. I had chosen him, over everyone, over everything.

Then I found him. In our bed. Tangled with her. Gidget. My sister, my tormentor, her body a pale, naked blur against his. The air was thick with the stench of their betrayal, the cloying sweetness of her perfume.

I remembered the nausea, the sudden, violent lurch of my stomach. My world tilted on its axis, every star in my carefully constructed universe winking out.

Christian had been my neighbor first, a constant shadow in my tumultuous childhood. He' d seen Gidget' s cruelty, my stepmother' s indifference. He' d seen me, a small, scared girl, banished from the house after one of Gidget' s dramatic outbursts. He' d found me huddled in the cold, a tiny, shivering ball of misery.

He' d wrapped his worn denim jacket around me, his hands warm on my freezing skin. "Don't cry, Elia," he'd whispered, his voice a balm to my aching heart. "I'll always protect you."

I remembered the time Gidget had slammed a door on my ear, a childish fit of pique turning violent. Christian, barely older than me, had been there in an instant, cradling me, his eyes blazing with protective fury. "I'll always be here," he'd promised, his words a sacred vow. "I'll always be the first one to say 'Happy New Year' to you, the first one to hold you."

He knew. He knew the depth of my hatred for Gidget, the scars she had left, both visible and invisible. He knew.

My hand had flown out, instinct overriding reason. A sharp crack echoed in the room as my palm connected with Gidget' s cheek. "Why, Gidget?" I' d screamed, my voice raw with anguish. "Why do you always have to destroy everything?"

My hand was poised for a third strike, but Christian had caught it, his grip like iron. "Elia, stop!" he'd yelled, his voice strained. He pulled me into a fierce embrace, his body trembling. "She drugged me, Elia! I swear, I thought it was you!"

Gidget, meanwhile, had crumpled to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself, her body wracked with theatrical sobs. "Elia, how could you?" she'd wailed, her voice thick with false tears. "You always misunderstand me! I would never..."

I had seen that look a hundred times. The innocent, wounded doe, framed by tears and trembling lips. My head spun, the room blurring around me.

Then everything went black. I collapsed, the weight of the betrayal too much to bear.