"Fern, Mom and I genuinely wanted to pay our respects. No matter what anyone says, your mother did die because of us. I feel terrible about it."
Christina's voice dripped with rehearsed sincerity.
"But I just graduated—I can't afford anything valuable. So let me sing you a song instead. As an apology. Would that be alright?"
Before I could respond, she darted to the karaoke machine.
The opening notes filled the room.
Upbeat. Celebratory.
I went rigid.
On the anniversary of my mother's death—she was going to sing me a party song?
Christina caught my eye and winked.
Winked.
The rage I'd been choking down erupted.
I grabbed the wine bottle from the coffee table and hurled it at her head.
Crash—
Glass shattered.
Christina shrieked and threw herself at Kevin.
"Kevin! Are you okay?!"
"I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't pick that song—I must have been so nervous seeing Fern that I hit the wrong button..."
Kevin had stepped between us. Blood traced a slow path down his forehead.
His eyes were ice. And they were fixed on me.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Fern? She's still your sister—half-sister or not. You could have killed her!"
"With that temper of yours, no wonder she's too terrified to think straight."
"I actually felt guilty about keeping things from you. Now I see I was right. God knows what you would've done to her if you'd known sooner."
Christina clung to his waist, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes.
"Kevin... you're always protecting me. I don't deserve you."
He softened instantly, reaching down to stroke her hair.
"What else am I supposed to do? You're soft as a little rabbit. If I don't protect you, the wolves will eat you alive."
The words hit me like a blade to the chest.
He'd said that exact thing to me once. Years ago, when we were young. When I still believed him.
He probably didn't even remember.
I drew a slow breath.
Reached into my bag.
Pulled out the divorce papers—the same ones I'd started once before but never finished signing.
"Kevin. Let's end this."
He laughed. A short, dismissive sound.
Without even glancing at the terms, he scrawled his signature across the page.
"Really, Fern? You're pulling this stunt again?"
"Fine. I'll play along. But I didn't cheat this time, so don't expect me to come crawling back with apologies."
"Thirty days from now. The county clerk's office. You'd better still have this much backbone then—because I won't be there to catch you when you come crying."
He was so certain.
All those times I'd forgiven him had made him certain.
He thought I'd never risk the family alliance. Never throw away everything our marriage represented.
He was wrong.
"Don't worry," I said quietly. "I won't change my mind."
I turned and walked out without looking back.
I didn't go home.
I booked a hotel room for the month—one month to wait out the mandatory cooling-off period.
One month until I was free.
In the days that followed, Kevin didn't text. Didn't call. Not once.
Word reached me through the grapevine: Christina had mentioned wanting to learn to ski in Switzerland.
And Kevin—ever the doting protector—had whisked her away to his villa there.
My phone buzzed. Hailey Brooks's voice was sharp with outrage.
"Are you kidding me right now?!"
"Everyone knows about that villa, Fern. He built it for you. After he proposed, remember? He said it was to make up for the honeymoon you never got. He swore no one else would ever set foot there."
"And now he's taking his little side piece on vacation?! What is this—is he cheating again?!"
I sat by the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows, the divorce papers spread on the table before me.
For a long moment, I couldn't speak.
These papers weren't new.
Kevin had drafted them himself—the last time I'd caught him cheating.
Back then, the humiliation had been suffocating. So I'd called Hailey, dragged her to a club, and ordered a whole table of pretty boys to sing with us. Petty revenge. Meaningless comfort.
Kevin had found out within the hour.
He'd stormed in with a squad of men, trashed the place, and beat those boys bloody.
