Diane’s face mottled purple. “How dare you! My son is upgrading! He’s getting a beautiful child, while your daughter will rot in a nursing home with no one to visit her!”
Khloe played her part, clutching Michael’s arm and looking distressed. “Please, let’s not fight. I just want my baby to be born into a world of peace.”
I stepped out from behind my mother, looking directly at Khloe’s belly, then up to her panicked eyes. “Oh, peace is the last thing this child is going to bring. You’d better hope genetics is kind to you, Khloe. Because if that baby comes out looking like its actual father, all the expensive onesies in the world won’t save you from the fallout.”
Khloe’s mask cracked. Pure terror flashed in her eyes. Michael frowned, clearly missing the subtext but sensing the threat. “You’re psychotic, Sarah. Let’s go, Mom.”
As they hurried away, my mother looked at me, a proud glint in her eye. “Let them walk into their own trap.”
Seventy-two hours later, I was standing on the balcony of a high-rise apartment overlooking the Coronado Bridge in San Diego. The salty Pacific breeze whipped through my hair, carrying away the suffocating dust of Chicago. I threw myself into the coastal resort project with a ferocity that surprised even myself. I worked grueling hours, turning my grief into raw, unadulterated ambition.
It was during these late-night strategy sessions that I met James.
James was the Vice President of the West Coast division. He was a man of quiet confidence, possessing sharp intellect and a remarkable capacity for empathy. He didn’t pry into my past, but he seemed to understand that the frantic pace at which I worked was a shield. When I stayed past 9 PM, he would silently leave a cup of artisanal tea on my desk. When I bulldozed through difficult negotiations, he was the steady presence at my back, offering tactical support without ever trying to overshadow me.
“You don’t have to outrun the demons every single day, Sarah,” he told me one evening, leaning against the doorframe of my office. “Sometimes, it’s okay to just sit still and let them pass.”
For the first time in my life, I felt seen. Not used. Not pitied. Just seen.
But just as the California sun was beginning to thaw the ice around my heart, my phone buzzed on my desk. It was a text from Pam, my old neighbor back in Chicago.
“Brace yourself. They just threw a massive, rushed wedding in the complex lobby. She’s ready to pop any day. Diane is insufferable, bragging to everyone who will listen.”
She attached a photo. Michael in a stiff tuxedo, looking exhausted. Khloe in a white maternity gown, smiling triumphantly. And standing just off to the side, staring at the bride with an intensity that made my skin crawl, was Robert.
I locked my phone, a dark smile playing on my lips.
Let the wedding bells ring. The mourning bells are right behind them.
Chapter 5: The Unraveling
