Chapter 5: The Sister Who Wanted What Was Never Hers
Gwendolyn arrived the next morning.
I knew she would.
People like her did not accept losing control easily.
She had spent years believing she understood me.
She thought she knew my weaknesses.
She thought she knew exactly how far she could push.
And for the first time, she discovered she had been completely wrong.
I was sitting outside on the terrace when her car pulled through the gate.
She stepped out wearing oversized sunglasses and a designer handbag.
The same confident appearance.
The same perfect posture.
The same expression she wore whenever she entered a room expecting everyone else to adjust.
But something was different.
She looked nervous.
She walked toward the house and stopped when she saw me.
“Nice place.””
Her voice was cold.
Not impressed.
Not happy.
Just irritated.
“Thank you.””
She looked around.
“You’re really going through with this?””
I frowned.
“With what?””
“This.””
She gestured toward the estate.
“Showing off.””
I stared at her.
“You came here to accuse me of showing off?””
“You know exactly what I mean.””
“No, I don’t.””
She removed her sunglasses.
“Paige, we are family.””
I almost smiled.
That was interesting.
Family.
A word she only used when she wanted something.
“Are we?””
Her face tightened.
“What is that supposed to mean?””
“It means family doesn’t threaten to throw someone out because their younger daughter wants a bigger bedroom.””
Her jaw clenched.
“That was not what happened.””
“It was exactly what happened.””
She looked away.
“I was trying to create opportunities for Chloe.””
“There it is.””
“What?””
“Everything always comes back to Chloe.””
Her expression hardened.
“Don’t make this about jealousy.””
I laughed quietly.
“Jealousy?””
“Yes. You’ve always had a problem with Chloe.””
I stared at her.
For years, I had heard this accusation.
If I wanted boundaries, I was jealous.
If I said no, I was selfish.
If I defended myself, I was difficult.
It was always easier for people like Gwendolyn to label me than to listen to me.
“I don’t hate Chloe.””
“Then why are you acting like this?””
“Because she wanted something that wasn’t hers.””
Gwendolyn looked around.
“Everything is replaceable.””
I froze.
“What?””
She shrugged.
“The bedroom. The memories. The furniture. Things.””
That was the moment I understood.
She truly didn’t get it.
She had never understood why that room mattered.
Because she didn’t see memories.
She saw possessions.
She saw what could be rearranged.
What could be upgraded.
What could benefit her.
“My mother designed that room.””
Gwendolyn looked uncomfortable for half a second.
Then recovered.
“Your mother has been gone a long time.””
The sentence hit harder than she realized.
Because some people carried wounds they never showed.
And she had just pressed directly against mine.
“She may be gone,” I said quietly, “but that doesn’t mean she stops mattering.””
Gwendolyn crossed her arms.
“Fine. Keep your room. Keep your house. But don’t pretend you’re better than us.””
I looked at her.
“I never said I was.””
The truth was, I didn’t want to be better than them.
I just wanted to stop being treated as less.
Then Chloe’s name appeared on my phone.
I glanced down.
A message.
*I need to talk. Please.*
I showed it to Gwendolyn.
Her eyes widened.
“She contacted you?””
“Yes.””
“Don’t answer.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
“She’s upset.””
“She has a right to be?””
Gwendolyn hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
Because maybe Chloe had finally realized something.
She had lost more than a bedroom.
She had lost the person who always gave in.
I typed a reply.
*You can come by if you want to talk.*
Five minutes later, Chloe responded.
*I’m coming.*
And for the first time since I left, I wondered if maybe the person I needed to confront wasn’t Gwendolyn.
May you like
Maybe it was the girl who had spent years watching her mother hurt me.
And saying nothing.
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