Chapter 2Your Wedding Cost My Sisters Life

It was the first Monday after New Year’s. The office was buzzing with the usual post-holiday gossip. As I walked in, my colleagues huddled in small groups, their snickers following me like a bad smell.

"Can you believe Nathan actually showed up? The guy has no shame. Kneeling in the snow at the gala, begging Miss Montgomery for money? Pathetic."

"He’s been acting like he owns the place just because he’s been her lapdog for seven years. My dog begs for treats with more dignity. He’s finished."

I walked past the vitriol, my face a mask of indifference, and entered the HR office.

The HR director, a woman who had always looked at me like I was a smudge on her shoe, didn't even look up.

"The application is in. Once Serena signs off, you can clear your desk. Just so you know, given the 'incident' at the gala, there will be no severance."

I nodded. "I understand." I turned and walked out without a second thought.

The sun was setting early, casting long, bruised shadows over the city. The streets were filled with couples and families, clinging to the last bit of holiday magic. And then there was me.

A crushing wave of loneliness hit me. My only family was gone. My career of seven years was over. My lover was a ghost.

I walked the familiar path between the office and the apartment—a route I’d taken thousands of times. Memories began to bleed through the cracks of my composure.

I was sixteen when my parents died in that wreck. The "charitable" relatives swooped in like vultures, picking the estate clean and leaving me with nothing but a month-old baby sister.

Years later, six-year-old Annie met Serena at a hospital fundraiser where Serena was volunteering for the cameras. Annie took to her instantly, calling her "big sister." That was how we started.

I was just a college student then, working three jobs to keep Annie fed and her meds paid for. Serena stepped in. She’d watch Annie, send me updates, and hold me when I broke down over the mounting medical bills. Back then, she told me she’d never leave. She told me she loved me more than her own life.

She used to hold my hand in public, even when I was wearing thrift-store clothes, and tell everyone, "This is my boyfriend. Isn't he perfect?"

But slowly, the poison of her mother’s voice took over. She started looking at me with suspicion. She began to fear I was after the Montgomery estate. She demanded I hand over my paychecks so she could "protect" her assets from being "commingled."

Her control became absolute. If I asked for five dollars for a pack of cigarettes, she’d interrogate me for an hour.

Then, three months ago, Derek returned from London. She bought him a Bentley that same day. She spent fifty thousand dollars on a digital billboard in Times Square that read: Welcome Home, Derek.

That was the first night she didn't come home.

When I finally found her, she was drunk, clinging to Derek’s arm, slurring about how he had "put a toy ring on her finger when they were five" and promised to marry her.

I was cold to the bone. When she sobered up, we had a screaming match. I asked her who she really wanted. She told me I was overthinking, that I was "insecure," and that if it weren't for Derek’s family, I’d never have even had the chance to breathe the same air as her.

Then Derek posted a status saying he was "ready to settle down." Serena came to me that night and asked me to marry her.

I was a fool. I was so happy, so relieved that she had "chosen" me, that I got down on one knee.

What a joke.

I realized I’d walked blocks past my destination. Up ahead, a familiar noise drifted from a high-end lounge.

"Go on, Serena! A dare is a dare! Derek is waiting!"

I saw her through the glass. She was surrounded by their elite social circle. She closed her eyes and shouted at the top of her lungs:

"I, Serena Montgomery, have only ever loved Derek Vanderbilt!"

She said it three times, her voice growing louder and more certain with each repetition, drawing stares from everyone on the sidewalk. Then, blushing like a schoolgirl, she buried her face in Derek’s chest.

Derek wrapped his arms around her, smug and triumphant.

The crowd began to chant: "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Serena hesitated for a heartbeat. Derek tried to play it off. "Easy, guys, she’s shy—"

Before he could finish, Serena grabbed his tie and pulled him down into a kiss. It was deep, desperate, and hauntingly sincere. When they pulled apart, she didn't close her eyes. She stared at him as if trying to memorize his soul, her face glowing with a happiness I hadn't seen in half a decade.

"I... I tripped," she muttered, her ears turning red, trying to regain her composure. Then, hurriedly: "It’s late. I have to get home. My mom will be expecting us for dinner."

Love is the hand that wants to touch but pulls back out of fear. Watching her with him, I realized she was never afraid of me. She just didn't care enough to be.

We were barely twenty feet apart. The winter wind tore through my coat, grinding what was left of my heart into dust. Serena turned to leave, head down against the cold, and walked straight into me.

She looked up, and her pupils shrunk in shock.