Chapter 2

The next day, according to tradition, was the day I was supposed to make my first visit back to my family home as a married woman.

James looked at me with concern, murmuring, "Are we still going?"

My own reflection stared back at me from the mirror, and my eyes were swollen and bloodshot. I just stood there in silence for a long while.

"Yes," I finally said.

You can't solve problems by running away from them.

I refused to let them think they could break me with a cemetery plot.

James didn't say another word. He just drove us to the mall and, without any hesitation, picked out a stunning, fiery red dress.

"Today is your day," he said. "Don't you let them look down on you."

As the car pulled up to my family's house, I took a deep, steadying breath and pushed open the door.

The courtyard was already buzzing with relatives. Melissa was in the center of it all, animatedly describing her renovation plans for the new apartment my grandmother had gifted her.

The moment I stepped into view, the chatter died. Every single eye was on me.

Melissa was the first to react, rushing toward me with a look of theatrical concern.

"Zoe, where did you go yesterday? We were all so worried! Grandma was so upset she couldn't sleep a wink."

She grabbed my hand, playing the part of the loving, devoted sister to perfection.

"Please don't be angry with her. She's just getting old. If you just apologize, this whole thing will blow over."

I pulled my hand from her grasp, walked past her, and stopped directly in front of Lea.

She sat enthroned in her ornate armchair, looking cold, her fingers methodically stroking a string of prayer beads. She didn't even look at me.

My parents, perched awkwardly nearby, shot me desperate glances, silently pleading with me to back down.

I stood up straight. My voice was low, but it cut through the silence, each word landing with deliberate clarity.

"Grandma, I need an explanation."

Her hand stilled. She finally lifted her gaze, and her cloudy eyes were filled with a chilling indifference.

"An explanation? What is there to explain? I gave you a gift, you threw it on the ground in front of everyone, and you humiliated this entire family. Now you have the audacity to come back here and demand an explanation from me?"

She slammed her hand on the armrest, her voice rising to a shrill peak.

"Zoe Brooks, is that any way to speak to an elder?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"What should I have said? 'Thank you, Grandma, for arranging my burial thirty years in advance?'

"You gave Melissa a penthouse apartment downtown, and you gave me a plot of dirt in the suburbs. Is that your idea of being fair?"

"How dare you!" she shrieked, her body trembling with rage. She jabbed a finger at me. "Your sister has always been delicate and simple-minded! If I don't look out for her, who will?

"But you? You've always been too clever for your own good, always scheming. You always get ahead! If I didn't keep you in your place, there'd be no controlling you!

"I've seen it for years. You're jealous of your sister!"

With that accusation hanging in the air, the relatives started murmuring amongst themselves.

"Zoe has always been too ambitious."

"So disrespectful. How dare she talk to her grandmother like that!"

My mother, Rose Brooks, frantic, rushed to my side. "Zoe, stop it! Apologize to your grandmother right now!" she yelled.

I shook her off, fixing my gaze on the old woman in the chair.

"Jealous of her? What, exactly, am I supposed to be jealous of? The fact that she always failed her classes? That she's gone through eight jobs, all of which I had to pull strings to get for her?

"Or am I supposed to be jealous that every time she messes up, you're there to bail her out, while if I so much as say one word out of line, you tear me to shreds?"

My words made Lea's face flush a deep, mottled purple.

She had never, in all my life, expected me, her obedient granddaughter, to say such things out loud.

"You... you ungrateful wretch!" she sputtered, her pointing finger trembling. "After everything I've done for you!"

"'Done for me'?" I repeated, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Was that 'doing for me' when you took the scholarship money I worked my ass off to earn and bought Melissa a designer handbag?

"Was that 'doing for me' at my university acceptance dinner, when you held Melissa's hand the entire night and announced that it was pointless for girls to get an education when they could just marry a rich man?

"Or was that 'doing for me' on my wedding day, when you gave me a gravesite and turned me into the laughingstock of the entire city?"