Part 3The Sister They Threw Away

Arthur wasn’t the monster my mother and Sophie had described in my past life—volatile, tyrannical, violent. On the contrary, I found him to be incredibly intelligent, though proud and guarded.

The cracks in his marriage to my mother began to show not long after we arrived. My mother was a classic trophy wife—all beauty, no substance. In a way, she and my father were a perfect match. Dad was a textbook case of new money, a trust-fund kid who was all muscle and no brains. He’d used a combination of brute force and cash to win her over. While my grandparents were alive, they kept the family business afloat. After they passed, Dad let his pack of sycophantic “friends” talk him into one bad investment after another, losing everything his parents had left him.

My mother immediately found his replacement and filed for divorce.

My plans to study abroad were stalled by my mother’s objections. But with my grades, I knew I could easily get into a top university here in the States.

“Sophie’s here!”

“Maria, is my mother home?” I heard her ask our housekeeper.

“Your mother is out shopping, dear. But your sister is upstairs reading.”

I heard Sophie’s footsteps coming down the hall. Without knocking, she pushed my door open.

“Honestly, Tessa, who are you trying to impress? There’s no one home. Put the book down.” With a flick of her wrist, she snatched the novel out of my hands.

Sophie was officially in Dad’s custody, but she came to this house nearly every month to get money from Mom, along with new clothes and jewelry. She always left with her car stuffed to the brim. By the next month, however, she’d be back in ragged clothes. Our father, who had added gambling to his list of vices in this life, took everything of value and sold it for cash.

My mother couldn’t bear to see Sophie living in poverty. She’d even tried to convince Arthur to let Sophie move in with us. Arthur had agreed, but surprisingly, our father refused to let her go. Sophie had become his lifeline, his tool for prying money and goods from our mother.

“You’re going to read your brain into mush,” Sophie sneered, rummaging through my things. “What’s the point? You’re not as pretty as me, and Mom and Dad don’t even like you.” She paused, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “This life you have? This was supposed to be mine. I’m letting you have it. You just enjoy it while you can. It won’t last long.”

She was right. In our previous life, this had been her princess bedroom.

She surveyed the room with disgust. “Tsk, tsk. You don’t even know how to enjoy the good life. Look at all this junk you buy.” She gestured at my bookshelf. “All you do is stare at these stupid, smelly books.”

I ignored her, letting her have her tantrum.

“Sophie! Is that my darling girl I hear?”

I watched, cold and detached, as they performed their little play of mother-daughter affection downstairs. When Mom came up and saw my room in disarray, she didn’t bat an eye.

“What could you possibly find in her room? Come on, let’s go to mine. I just bought a ton of new clothes and jewelry. Take whatever you like.”

She pulled Sophie out of the room, not once glancing my way, not a single word of concern for me.

A few moments later, Maria, our housekeeper, came in with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. She began tidying my room with practiced ease.

“I have never seen a mother play favorites so openly,” she murmured.

It doesn’t matter, I thought. Her good days are numbered.