Chapter 3

With her new status as the family's fragile centerpiece, Olivia wasted no time in flexing her power. Her first target was Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, a kind, sturdy woman who had been with our family since before I was born. She had always been my quiet ally, sneaking me extra cookies and praising my early, clumsy drawings.

One afternoon, I walked into the kitchen to find Olivia berating her.

"This soup is too salty!" Olivia declared, pushing the bowl away. "The shock could be detrimental to my heart! You are trying to harm me!"

Mrs. Gable looked bewildered. "Miss Olivia, it's the same recipe I've always used."

"Your standards have slipped," Olivia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Perhaps this house is too much for you to manage anymore. I need someone attentive, someone who understands the gravity of my condition."

She was trying to get her fired. She was trying to strip away my last piece of quiet support in this house.

I stepped forward, my hands clenched at my sides. "That's enough, Olivia."

Olivia turned to me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Emily. I'm just expressing my needs. My health is very delicate."

"Mrs. Gable is a wonderful cook and she takes care of all of us," I said, my voice firm. I looked directly at the housekeeper. "Thank you for the soup, Mrs. Gable. I'm sure it's perfect."

I picked up the bowl and a spoon, took a taste, and looked back at my cousin. "It's delicious. There's nothing wrong with it."

Olivia's face hardened. She had expected me to cower, to let her have her way. My defiance enraged her.

Her lower lip began to tremble. Her eyes welled up with crocodile tears. "Why are you always so mean to me, Emily?" she whimpered, her voice cracking. "You know I'm sick. The stress... the fighting... it's... it's too much for my heart."

She clutched her chest, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged. It was a flawless performance.

Right on cue, Daniel walked in. He took one look at Olivia's tear-streaked face and my defiant stance and rushed to her side.

"What's going on here? Emily, what did you do?" he demanded, his voice laced with accusation.

"She's bullying me," Olivia sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "Just because I'm sick... she's trying to make my life miserable."

Daniel wrapped his arms around her, glaring at me over her shoulder. "For God's sake, Emily, look at her! She's fragile. Why can't you show an ounce of compassion? You're upsetting a sick woman. Have you no shame?"

He didn't ask for my side of the story. He didn't care. He had chosen his role as Olivia's white knight, and I was cast as the villain.

Olivia peeked at me from the safety of Daniel' s embrace, a flicker of triumph in her wet eyes. Daniel stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words.

"It's alright, my love," he said, his voice now soft and tender, meant for both her and me to hear. "I'm here. I won't let her hurt you. We'll get through this together."

They stood there, locked in a dramatic tableau of his heroism and her victimhood. It was a nauseating, perfectly staged play designed to isolate and punish me. The absurdity of it was thick in the air, a bitter taste in my mouth. They weren't just stealing my future; they were trying to gaslight me into believing I was the cruel one, the one in the wrong, while they paraded their deceitful, self-serving bond right in front of my face.