Chapter 3The Stepsister's Stepmother

After dinner, Ashley insisted on walking me downstairs. The second we were out of the apartment and a few steps away, she yanked her hand from my arm like I was contaminated and brushed off her sleeve.

"Sarah," she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain, "there was no mistake with the list. I deliberately didn't invite you."

"Yeah, I figured," I said calmly. Her little schemes were always painfully obvious, written all over her face. Only Dad, bless his trusting heart, couldn't see through her and Linda's act.

My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her. "Stop pretending, Sarah! God, I've always hated how you act so high and mighty, like you're better than everyone. It's disgusting."

She sneered. "So you got good grades and make a decent salary. Big deal. Who knows how you really make your money anyway."

I didn't even bother looking at her. Arguing with her was a complete waste of emotional energy.

I turned to leave, but she darted in front of me, blocking my path. "What, did I hit a nerve? Feeling guilty?"

"I knew it," she crowed. "I saw you got a new car recently. There's no way you could afford something that nice on your salary so quickly. Who's your sugar daddy?"

I rolled my eyes. Unbelievable. The car was a gift—a wedding present from my husband. He'd wanted to get me a Rolls Royce, but I vetoed it—way too flashy. I picked out a modest Honda instead; it was just for commuting, the brand didn't matter. But seriously? She thought I couldn't afford a fifteen-thousand-dollar car on my own? Who did she think she was talking to?

Dealing with idiots seriously tanks my mood.

"Think whatever you want, Ashley," I sighed.

As I started to walk away again, something occurred to me. I stopped and turned back. "Hey, just double-checking… you're absolutely sure you don't need me at the engagement party?"

She let out a short, sharp laugh. "Positive. Absolutely, one hundred percent positive!"

"Okay then," I shrugged.