As soon as I hung up, my mom stormed into my room. ""Where's the sapphire necklace your father left you?""
I said nothing.
Her face twisted, all offended. ""What's with the attitude? Your sister thinks it's pretty and just wants to borrow it for a couple of days. Don't be so selfish!""
Cue Betty, clinging to her. ""Forget it, Mom,"" she said, with this fake little sigh. ""Daphne's never really seen me as her sister. If she doesn't want to, it's fine. I won't force her.""
Mom's voice shot up a notch. ""She doesn't get a choice! That necklace belonged to my husband, your father. And I'm deciding—it's Betty's now.""
Betty practically glowed while Mom doubled down. ""If you don't hand it over, I'll send someone to tear your room apart.""
I stared at her, my lips curving into a bitter smile—the kind that stings more than tears ever could.
The mom I used to remember—kind, warm—was gone. What stood in front of me now was someone cold and unrecognizable.
But whatever. I'd be out of here soon, and none of this would matter. No point wasting energy on another fight.
I grabbed the sapphire necklace from its case and handed it over, saying nothing.
Her face lit up. ""That's how it should be. Betty's your sister. As the older one, it's your job to let her have the better things.""
Then she left, and of course, Betty couldn't resist putting the necklace right in front of me.
""Daphne,"" she said, smirking, ""don't blame Mom for playing favorites. Honestly, this necklace just suits me better.
""Kind of like Henry—he's a much better match for me than for you.
""What's mine will always stay mine, no matter what anyone tries.""
I stared at her smug little face, said absolutely nothing, and grabbed my bag. Engaging with her would just fuel her drama addiction, and I wasn't about to be her entertainment.
I headed for the stairs, brushing past her like she was invisible.
Then—classic Betty—she darted in front of me, throwing on her best fake panic. ""Ah! Daphne, why did you push me?"" she cried, flailing as she dramatically stumbled backward toward the staircase.
As much as I couldn't stand Betty, my instincts kicked in. Those stairs were steep—like, twenty steps steep—and without thinking, I reached out to grab her.
Before I could steady her, Henry appeared out of nowhere and slapped my hand away. ""Daphne Diaz, you vicious woman!"" he yelled.
My hand smacked against the banister with a loud thud. Pain shot through it, sharp enough to make cold sweat break out on my forehead.
Betty, meanwhile, collapsed into his arms like she was auditioning for a tearjerker. ""Henry, thank goodness you came in time,"" she sobbed. ""If you hadn't...""
""Shh, don't be scared,"" Henry crooned, stroking her hair. ""I won't let anyone hurt you.""
I glanced down at my hand—already swelling, bruising, and possibly broken.
Then I looked at Betty, perfectly fine and soaking up Henry's attention.
It was so ridiculous I almost laughed.
This was the guy who once swore he'd love me forever. The guy I was supposed to marry in three months.
How do you fall out of love that fast?
