Chapter 1
Chapter 1 Another call—Cindy Vallance’s classic “I’m-ending-it-all” routine. No shocker, Andrew Todd bailed on our wedding. Again. I blocked his path, fists clenched around a gown that was supposed to mean something. “Can’t this wait till after? It’s the eighty-eighth time.” My throat burned. He sighed, pulled me close. “Just a little more time, Viv. She’s been off since the accident. I’m scared she’ll actually do it. I swear, I’ll talk to her. For real this time. Then we’ll get married. Promise.” That was the eighty-eighth time he said those exact words. The first eighty-seven? I ate them up like gospel. Told myself love was enough, that delays didn’t matter if he still chose me. The wedding always crashed halfway through. Always pushed back. We threw ceremony after ceremony, but never made it to “I do.” Cindy always pulled something—car crash, meltdown, suicide threats. Like clockwork. And Andrew? He always ran to her, magically saving the day. Wild, right? A girl on the edge—slitting wrists, downing pills, screaming about death—suddenly finds her will to live the second he shows up. I didn’t say a word. Just hugged him back like my life depended on it, hoping he’d stay. Andrew kept whispering comfort, but Mom jumped in, rushing him. “Vivian, stop being difficult. Cindy’s on the balcony!” Dad’s face turned cold. “If she hadn’t gotten kidnapped trying to save you, she wouldn’t be like this. You’re selfish enough—now she’s hanging on by a thread, and you still can’t think past yourself?” Andrew’s phone buzzed. He slipped his hand from mine. “I have to go, Viv. You get it, right?” I didn’t even get to answer. Took one shaky step, heel twisted—I hit the ground hard. My arm slammed into the metal flower stand, splitting wide open. White-hot pain shot through me. I cried out. Andrew didn’t even flinch. Just ran. Never looked back. As he disappeared through the door, I snapped. “Andrew Todd! I’ll wait here till the day ends. If you don’t come back—we’re done. For good.” He heard me. Paused for half a second. Still didn’t turn around. My parents blew past me. Dad sneered. “Who are you performing for? Let me make this clear—forget canceling. If we told you to hand Andrew over to Cindy, you would. Her life matters more.” Mom gave me that tired look. “Vivian, be reasonable. It’s just a wedding. We can reschedule. But Cindy needs him now. You always clash, sure—but we don’t have time for your drama today.” I’d been hearing that same crap since I finally came to my real parents. Cindy had already been living with them for fifteen years when they found me. I never asked them to kick her out. I actually treated her like a real sister. But she always wanted what was mine—even stuff she didn’t like. A teddy bear she’d trashed, a red dress she’d never wear. If I wanted it, she had to take it. Every time. I asked her once—why she kept doing it. Her answer? Ice cold. “No reason. I just love the look on your face when I take everything.” I was stupid back then. Thought if I told Mom and Dad, they’d finally see her for what she was. Maybe stop blaming me for everything. But I didn’t get it—how deep their love for her ran. Instead, they hit me with: “Vivian, how did we end up with such a selfish, lying daughter? You’re a real disappointment.” Fine. Be disappointed. I was done. Too drained to cry. Just cold. Hollow. I pushed myself off the floor, pressed tissues to the bleeding gash on my arm. “Mom, Dad—you should probably go. Cindy’s still at the balcony.”
Chapter 2 Beneath the church dome, the last bit of light vanished, swallowing me whole. Midnight struck. Still no Andrew. I knew how this ended—just like the last eighty-seven times. Wrecked and forgotten. My phone lit up. Cindy had posted again. Nine perfectly curated pics, oozing fake vulnerability. Mom and Dad feeding her peeled grapes like royalty. Andrew beside her, tucking her hair back with that soft smile. And then the kicker—a “family portrait.” All of them huddled around fragile little Cindy, grinning like they’d won something. Caption: [The pain is unbearable, but being wrapped in love really can defeat all darkness. Thank you, Mom and Dad. Thank you, my Mr. Todd. Your love pulls me out of the abyss every time.] The comments were all the same, like they’d rehearsed it. Dad: [Sweet girl, get well soon. I’ll always protect you.] Mom: [Don’t be afraid, Cindy. With me here, you’ll always be our precious little one.] Andrew: [Focus on getting better. Everything will be okay.] Then came a text from Mom—cold, bossy. [Go leave a comment for Cindy. She’s refusing to take her meds because she thinks you’re mad at her.] Yeah, that was Cindy talking. Her little power play, rubbing it in. And still—something in me cracked. Funny, isn’t it? I’m the real daughter. The actual fiancée. But every time it’s me vs. Cindy, they don’t even flinch—they pick her. Every. Single. Time. The first wedding got scrapped because it was Cindy’s birthday. She threw a fit at the venue, sobbing about how she didn’t want to spend her birthday heartbroken. Andrew folded instantly. My parents yanked down our photos and snapped at me. “Vivian, you already have Andrew. Why provoke Cindy? How could you be so heartless?” Second time? Cindy had a dream—said once we were married, Andrew would stop caring about her. She stormed the Todd estate in the middle of the night and clung to him like a lifeline. He let her crash on the bed we picked out. My parents dragged me out. “Don’t disturb her. Can’t you see how scared she is? What’s wrong with you?” Third time? The cat Andrew gave her went missing. She got hit by a car looking for it and freaked out. My parents locked me out for 24 hours. “You knew how much that cat meant. Why didn’t you close the door?” And now? This time it’s because she wasn’t invited. Said she felt left out. Cue the meltdown. Each excuse more ridiculous than the last. Yet every time—Andrew caved, my parents defended her, and I got left behind. I yelled. I fought. I begged. Didn’t matter. Same ending every time—be understanding, step back, sacrifice a little more. Haven’t eighty-seven canceled weddings made the point? Staring at that empty church, something in me just… let go. Ten years back with the Vallance family, and nothing I did ever measured up. No matter how hard I tried, Cindy was always the golden girl. Thoughtful. Fragile. Perfect. Me? I was the selfish one. The liar. The troublemaker. Screw it. Maybe the real mistake was expecting anything different. I tapped out the comment Mom wanted: [Wishing you a speedy recovery.] Seconds later, Mom hit me with a smiley. [Vivian, you’re my precious girl too.] Hilarious, right? Her love only shows up when I roll over for Cindy. But now I couldn’t stop wondering—if they ever found out their sweet little angel was faking it all… the lies, the pity parties, even staging a kidnapping— And if I vanished for good… Would they finally regret it? I wiped the blood off my lip and called my business partner, Kent. “I’m taking the Haviana market project.” He sounded stunned. “Seriously? That’s ten years overseas. You just got married—well, weren’t you? Does your husband even know? What about your parents? You always said staying close to them was everything.” I glanced around the empty church and let out a sharp laugh. “There was no wedding. No husband. And my parents? They’ve got Cindy. That’s all they need.” Silence. Then Kent sighed. “Alright. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow.”
Chapter 3 I spent the night alone on a cold church pew. At dawn, I drifted home, half-conscious. The second I walked in, Andrew was there—bloodshot eyes, a wreck. He saw the blood on my dress and rushed to hug me. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “I was gonna come back. But every time I tried, Cindy lost it. I swear, I couldn’t leave her like that. She just settled down, and I was on my way to find you… Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” My voice didn’t waver. “It’s okay, Andrew. The wedding can wait. Cindy’s health comes first.” His face froze. “You really mean that?” “Of course.” Honestly, I didn’t blame him for needing confirmation. We’d fought about Cindy a hundred times. Why wouldn’t he double-check? They’d tested the waters before—soft suggestions to just skip the wedding, you know, for Cindy’s sake. Every time, I held my ground. I wasn’t gonna let them erase me that easily. But now? None of it mattered. I was done. Wedding or not—I was leaving. I smiled, took the soup ingredients from his hands, headed for the kitchen. “For Cindy, right? I’ll make it. She’s always loved my tomato bisque.” I lit the stove, cool as ever—not a flicker of anger. Andrew relaxed, smiled, and wrapped his arms around me. “Viv, you finally get it. Cindy’s sick. We have to keep her happy or the next wedding won’t go well. Married or not, I’ll always love you.” The irony hit hard. Our wedding, hinging on Cindy’s mood? Old me would’ve lost it right there. Now? I just shut off the burner and poured the soup into a container. “It’s ready. Take it to her.” Andrew exhaled, all soft and grateful. “You’ve really matured. Don’t worry—once Cindy’s better, I’ll give you the biggest, most beautiful wedding ever.” His sweet talk didn’t touch me. Whatever hope I had for him vanished with the twelfth chime of that church bell. I stepped past him, heading upstairs to change and pack. Halfway up, I ran into my parents. They were carrying Cindy’s makeup bag and a dress. Mom shot me a glare. “What are you doing up here? You should be finishing Cindy’s soup! She’s still in the hospital—do you want her to starve?” Dad’s eyes were cold. “If she hadn’t saved you during that kidnapping, you’d be dead. And now she just wants some soup, and you can’t even do that? How’d we end up with such an ungrateful daughter?” That line again. ** When they first brought me back from the orphanage, things were good. They redecorated a room just for me, took me to amusement parks, bought me cute dresses and little cakes. They treated me like I mattered—like Cindy. Cindy and I were close, like actual sisters. But something shifted. I don’t know what she said or did, but soon, their smiles faded. Disappointment crept in. Eventually, they stopped noticing me at all. Then came the “kidnapping” she staged five years ago. She had me taken, then faked a dramatic rescue—pretending to get hurt, acting unstable. And just like that, they were sold. To them, I became cold and selfish, and Cindy was the brave, broken hero. At first, I was crushed with guilt. Grateful, even. I gave her whatever she wanted. Let her take it all. Even when she snapped during those so-called depressive spells, I stayed calm. I comforted her. Then one day, our parents were out and I was making her lunch. She looked at me, all smug, and said it straight: “The kidnapping? My idea. I wanted them to think you owed me—forever.” She grinned like it was a game. Said she’d take every drop of love they had for me. After that, I couldn’t even look at her the same. I tried to tell our parents, over and over, but they never believed me. And every time they brushed me off, Cindy just smiled. “Vivian, from now on, you don’t have a mom or dad anymore.” And she was right. Her plan worked. I lost them. All over again. ** “Mr. Vallance, Mrs. Vallance, Vivian already made the soup,” Andrew’s voice cut in, snapping me out of my head. Dad’s anger melted fast, replaced by that smug approval. “Vivian, you’ve finally grown up. Sisters should love each other. That’s what keeps a family strong.” I smiled. “I won’t fight with Cindy anymore. “Oh, and Dad—Cindy couldn’t finish her graduation project, right? She can use mine. I don’t mind.” His grin widened. “That’s the spirit. That’s what being a big sister means.” Mom nodded, all pleased. “Come to the hospital with us. Cindy’s gonna be thrilled.” I kept smiling. Soft. Sweet. “Sure. You guys go ahead. I’ll change and grab her a little cake first.” They left, all happy. I turned, went upstairs. Five minutes later, I walked out of that house—the one I’d called home for ten years—and never looked back.