"What do you mean, 'why'? Your sister's wedding is coming up—stop bringing bad luck into this house."
Odette couldn't stand that pitiful look on her face. If it weren't for Ursula, Teresa wouldn't have been lost to them all those years, and she certainly wouldn't have developed bone cancer so young.
Meanwhile, Ursula had lived like a princess under this roof, opposing Teresa at every turn.
"I'm warning you—your sister's marriage to Thomas is set in stone. Don't even think about pulling anything, and stay out of his sight."
"What about me?" Ursula looked at her, eyes hollow. "Everyone knows Thomas and I have been together. You're having Teresa marry him... Have you even considered what people will say behind my back? How they'll mock me?"
"What nonsense. Compared to your sister's happiness, a few whispers about you mean nothing." Odette waved it off, convinced Ursula simply refused to make sacrifices.
"Your sister has suffered so much. This entire family owes her. Forget a marriage arrangement—I'd give her the whole Abbott estate if I could. She's this sick now, and you'd still watch her die alone? Do you have any humanity left?"
Ursula fell silent.
In their minds, Teresa's name had always been sacred, above everything else.
No one thought it absurd for a younger sister to surrender her fiancé to the elder. No one cared that Ursula would become a laughingstock.
"If I don't agree—"
"What right do you have to refuse?"
Odette's smile turned cold. That meticulously maintained face showed not a trace of maternal warmth.
"Let me be clear: Thomas agreed to marry your sister himself. He wants to take responsibility for her, to make it up to her, to care for her. If you ask me, he's had feelings for her all along. Keep making a scene and you'll only humiliate yourself."
She gestured, and someone handed Ursula a stack of photographs.
Scenic shots from around the world.
Even a glance revealed landmarks from multiple countries—and in each one, Teresa and Thomas, posing together like lovers.
But what truly gutted her were the dates printed on each photo. Every single one matched a time when she'd been away on business.
For two years, ever since the Abbotts made it clear they wouldn't provide much of a dowry, she'd been working herself ragged, taking every trip she could.
All so she wouldn't embarrass Thomas when they married.
"I need to hear it from him!"
Ursula spun around—and there stood Teresa, poised and elegant, right behind her.
"No need for all that trouble. The answers you want? I have them right here."
Cold rain spilled from the night sky.
Ursula walked numbly through the downpour, ignoring the bite of the chill, her mind replaying the video Teresa had shown her.
Someone had asked Thomas: "Thomas, you're really marrying Teresa? Cancer's unpredictable... What if she recovers? Or doesn't die as quickly as expected? What happens to Ursula?"
Thomas's voice had been lazy, indifferent. "Teresa is her sister. If she survives, Ursula should be happy for her."
"But then Ursula can't marry you. Aren't you worried she'll get angry and leave?"
Thomas had smiled faintly, swirling his glass with nauseating self-satisfaction.
"A dog that's been trained to depend on you doesn't just walk away from its master. Besides, she's worked so hard to marry me. She won't give that up."
Twenty-two years.
She had known Thomas James for twenty-two years.
Never once had she imagined he would describe her in such degrading terms.
And Teresa—Teresa had made a point of showing off the hickeys on her neck, telling her that Thomas had already slept with her.
