Chapter 4

The next morning, I woke up in the guest room. My hand throbbed. The humiliation of the party still clung to me like a shroud.

But beneath it, a strange sense of lightness.

It was done. The worst part of their script.

I started to methodically go through the few belongings I had in the room.

Anything that reminded me of Ethan, of my past life with him, I put into a trash bag.

The worn copy of "Leaves of Grass" he'd touched, the pressed flower he'd picked for "Wren" from the estate gardens, a silly caricature he'd drawn of the grumpy head gardener when he was recovering.

All of it.

It was a purge. A cleansing.

I was interrupted by a knock. Jessica stood there, radiant, already dressed for a day out. Ethan was behind her, his arm around her waist.

"Going somewhere, Sarah?" Jessica asked, her voice saccharine.

"Just packing," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

"Good," Ethan said, his voice cool. "The sooner you're gone, the better."

He pulled Jessica closer, kissing her temple. A deliberate display.

It didn't hurt anymore. It was just... a fact.

They left, their laughter echoing down the hall.

I continued packing.

Later that day, it was Jessica's pre-wedding birthday luncheon. Another lavish affair.

I was expected to attend. To play the role of the contrite, soon-to-be-exiled sister.

The whispers followed me.

"There she is... looks so pale..."

"Heard she attacked Jessica... tried to drown her..."

"Such a shame, pretty girl like that, but so disturbed..."

I sat at a small table in the corner, nursing a glass of water.

I watched my parents dote on Jessica. Linda adjusted a stray curl. Richard laughed at something she said.

My birthdays had been afterthoughts. A small cake, a perfunctory gift, always overshadowed by some Jessica-related drama or need.

One year, my tenth birthday, Jessica had developed a "sudden allergy" to chocolate, my favorite. My cake was changed to vanilla, her favorite. I cried. I was told I was being selfish.

The memory, once a source of sharp pain, now just felt... distant.

Jessica was showered with gifts. Designer clothes, jewelry, a ridiculous diamond-studded collar for her yappy little dog.

Her grandmother, a formidable old woman from the Miller side, presented her with a heavy velvet box. Inside, a stunning sapphire necklace. "This was your great-grandmother's, Jessica. It's yours now. May it bring you happiness."

A family heirloom. Passed to the golden child.

Then Ethan stood up, tapping his glass for attention.

The room quieted.

"To Jessica," he said, his voice full of warmth, his eyes only for her. "My beautiful, brave Jessie. Happy birthday, my love."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, black velvet box.

He went down on one knee.

Gasps rippled through the room.

"Jessica Miller," he said, his voice clear and strong. "Will you marry me?"

Jessica's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with perfectly feigned surprise.

"Yes! Oh, Ethan, yes!"

The room erupted in applause.

They kissed, a long, passionate kiss for the audience.

I watched, a spectator at a play I'd seen too many times.

After the applause died down, Jessica, beaming, turned her attention to me. Her eyes glittered with triumph.

"Sarah," she called out, her voice carrying across the room. "You haven't given me my birthday gift yet."

All eyes turned to me.

The air crackled with expectation. What would the "troubled sister" do now?

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the only thing I had left that connected to any of them.

The antique silver compass charm.

I walked towards her, holding it out. "Happy birthday, Jessica."

Ethan was looking at the compass. His brow furrowed.

"That charm..." he began, a strange note in his voice. "Where did you get that?"

He remembered. Something.