Chapter 3The Love I Burned Away

His mother was sobbing now, shaking her head. His father tried to argue, but I cut him off.

"If we go through with this, Mike will be miserable for the rest of his life. We have one chance to fix this before it’s too late. I don't want to be the reason he hates his own life." I gripped their hands. "Please. Let me just be his sister. That’s a bond that can actually last."

Seeing my resolve, they finally stopped fighting me. His mother pressed a black credit card into my hand, whispering through her tears for me to take care of myself.

"Don't tell him yet," I pleaded. "Let’s give him a 'surprise' on the wedding day."

I went back to my room and tucked the card away. I spent the evening packing up every memento, every photo, and every gift Mike had ever given me. I hauled the boxes down to the backyard, intent on burning them and leaving no traces behind.

As the first flame licked at the corner of an old polaroid, a pair of designer heels appeared in my peripheral vision. Chloe Sinclair kicked the box over, the glass of a framed photo shattering against the patio.

Before I could even react, she snatched up a jagged shard of glass and dragged it across her own wrist.

As she screamed, Mike came charging out of the house. He didn't even look at the fire. He swung his hand and caught me across the face with a stinging slap.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"

"Mike, I—"

"Chloe came here to talk business, and you pull this? You psychotic freak!"

I stood there, my cheek burning, stunned into silence. Chloe slumped into his arms, weeping pathetically.

"I'm so sorry, Mike... I just wanted to come by and wish you both a happy marriage... I didn't think Grace would snap like this..." She looked up at him with watery eyes. "I know she hates me. I should just go. I don't want to be the reason you fight."

Mike’s face was a mask of cold fury. "Is this how it’s going to be? Now that the wedding is close, you don't have to pretend to be the sweet little sister anymore? Poisoning my parents wasn't enough, so now you’re physically attacking her? I’ve known you for ten years, Grace, and I never knew you were capable of being this disgusting."

He shook her slightly. "Tell me the truth. Did you have something to do with the Sinclair bankruptcy?"

I stared at him, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. "Her family’s mess has nothing to do with me. I told you I’d let you go. I meant it."

Mike glanced down at the scattered photos in the dirt—photos of us smiling, younger and happier. His expression hardened.

"Burning these? What is this, another one of your pathetic games? Playing hard to get? You think this is going to make me love you? It just makes me want to vomit." He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. "You're coming to the hospital. If anything happens to her, I swear to God, I’m done with you."

He didn't give me a choice. He threw Chloe into the back seat and dragged me into the front. He drove like a maniac to the ER, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

In my last life, Chloe died because of her creditors. In this life, because of Mike’s help, she had survived—but she had found a new way to hurt me. I watched him pace the hallway, frantic with worry, and I felt the final strings of my heart simply snap.

Once the doctors announced she was out of danger and moved her to a private room, Mike finally exhaled. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

"Since this was your fault, you’re staying here to watch her tonight. I have things to handle at the office. Don't leave."

He left without looking back.

I stayed. I sat in the chair by the window and watched the sunrise. I didn't sleep.

The next morning, Mike returned with a thermos of homemade porridge. He glanced at the dark circles under my eyes, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of something that looked like guilt.

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

"Thanks," he muttered, looking away. "For staying."

I let out a soft laugh and stood up, moving out of his way so he could sit by her bed. It was the first time in a long time I’d heard him say 'thank you.' It was far too little, and far too late.

He seemed unsettled by my reaction. "Look, once Chloe is discharged, I’ll take you to the bridal shop again. We can pick a different dress. The one you chose before was... plain. And about yesterday... I was stressed. I shouldn't have snapped. But this thing between us has nothing to do with Chloe. Don't take your anger out on her."

I looked down at the floor, thinking about the one-way ticket to London I’d booked for the morning of the wedding.