Chapter 3

The days leading up to the "celebration" were a masterclass in psychological warfare. I continued to play the part of the supportive, if slightly melancholic, sister. I helped my mother plan the party, suggesting caterers and decorations with a detached efficiency that she mistook for sadness. Every interaction with Mark was a carefully calibrated performance. I' d let him put his arm around me, offering a weak, sad smile that fed his ego. He thought he was managing me, keeping me placated until he and Chloe were safely away. He had no idea I was the one pulling the strings.

My mother, however, was growing impatient with my new "friendship."

"Who is this person you' re always texting, Ava?" she demanded one afternoon, seeing me smile at my phone. It was a message from Liam, confirming he had set up a temporary email and phone number for our "project."

"Just a friend, Mom," I said.

"Is it that Liam boy? I heard his family moved away. You shouldn' t be talking to people like that. You should be focused on supporting your sister and Mark."

"I am supporting them," I said, my voice still mild. I looked at her directly. "In fact, Mark is the one who encouraged me to keep in touch with old friends. He said it would be good for me to have hobbies now that I have so much free time."

I threw Mark's name into the mix, a simple move that immediately shifted her anger. She couldn't get mad at me without implicitly criticizing Mark, her future golden-boy son-in-law. She just huffed and walked away, muttering about how I was being difficult.

The party was held in our backyard. My parents spared no expense. They wanted the whole town to witness their family's success story. Tables were draped in white cloths, balloons in the university' s colors bobbed in the breeze, and a large banner read: "CONGRATULATIONS CHLOE & MARK!"

Chloe was in her element. She wore a new, expensive dress, clinging to Mark' s arm and accepting congratulations with a practiced, humble smile.

"Oh, it was nothing," she' d say to fawning neighbors. "I just got a lucky break. And my sister, Ava, has been so incredibly supportive. I couldn' t have done it without her sacrifice."

She would glance over at me then, a smug, triumphant look in her eyes. I was standing off to the side, wearing a simple, understated dark dress. I wasn't trying to compete. I was just an observer.

Mrs. Henderson, our next-door neighbor and the town' s biggest gossip, cornered me by the punch bowl.

"Ava, dear," she said, her voice oozing with false sympathy. "It' s just so wonderful what you' ve done for your sister. But you mustn' t feel too bad. Not everyone is cut out for the big city and a high-pressure art career. It' s probably for the best."

"You' re probably right, Mrs. Henderson," I replied with a placid smile.

My own mother joined in, patting my shoulder. "That' s right. Ava is happy for her sister. We' re all so proud of Chloe. She has worked so hard."

The lie was so blatant, so shameless, that a wave of nausea washed over me. The memory of my all-nighters, the smell of turpentine and oil paint, the years of practice and dedication-they were all being erased, rewritten by these people to suit their narrative. Chloe had never worked hard a day in her life. Her only talent was manipulation.

I looked at my family-my beaming mother, my proud father, my gloating sister-all gathered around Mark, the architect of my downfall. They were a constellation of vipers. The disgust was a physical thing, a bitter taste in the back of my throat. But I pushed it down, keeping my expression serene. My revenge would be cold, precise, and absolute.

As the party wore on, I noticed something. Chloe kept rubbing her stomach. She turned down a glass of champagne, claiming it would give her a headache. And when she thought no one was looking, I saw her pop a small white pill into her mouth-not a prescription, but an over-the-counter antacid.

I knew the signs. I had seen them in a cousin years ago. Morning sickness.

My plan was already in motion, but this... this was an unexpected gift. An accelerant for the fire I was building.

I chose my moment carefully. I walked over to the happy couple, carrying two glasses of lemonade.

"A toast," I said, my voice just loud enough to draw the attention of those nearby. I handed a glass to Chloe and one to Mark.

Mark raised his glass. "To us!"

"To the future," Chloe added, her eyes sparkling with malice as she looked at me.

I smiled back. "And to family. To new beginnings." I took a sip of my lemonade, my eyes fixed on Chloe. "You have to be careful, though. The first trimester can be really tough."

The color drained from Chloe' s face. Mark' s smile froze.

"What are you talking about?" Chloe stammered, her hand unconsciously going to her stomach.

"Oh, nothing," I said breezily. "Just something I read. You just look a little pale. You should take care of yourself. Both of you."

I gave them a knowing look, then turned and walked away, leaving them in a state of stunned panic. I didn' t need to stay and watch the fallout. I had just lit the fuse. Now all I had to do was wait for the explosion.

I left my own party without saying goodbye to anyone. As I walked down the street, away from the sounds of laughter and music, I felt a profound sense of calm. They thought this was their victory celebration. They had no idea it was their public farewell to the life they knew. They were marching toward a future they thought they had secured, but I was the one who had already laid the traps along their path. The trip to the city was next. And that' s where the real show would begin.

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