Chapter Two

Vivienne's POV

Night fell.

My spirit floated in the corner of the living room, watching all the warmth revolve around Delilah—just like every other night for the past decade.

Father looked at Delilah. "This farm will be yours someday. Come stay whenever you're unhappy. No one will disturb you."

The words pierced my numb soul like needles.

Before I turned twelve, Father said those exact words to me. He held my hand as we walked through the farm, pointing at the wildflower meadow: "Vivienne, this will all be yours one day."

But everything changed after Delilah went missing for three hours when she was seven.

Mother held up her tablet. "What about this watch? I've seen you eyeing it for a while."

"It's too expensive..." Delilah bit her lip. "And you have to buy an unpopular model first to get the limited edition."

"Then we'll buy both." Mother didn't hesitate. "The unpopular one for Vivienne, your favorite for you."

The outdated square dial on the screen, the dull brown crocodile strap. I stared at it, feeling nothing—always Delilah's leftovers.

Delilah feigned reluctance. "But won't she be upset..."

"She wouldn't dare!" Mother's laugh was cold. "We're getting one for her too this time, so she can't complain we're playing favorites. If she still makes a fuss, she's just ungrateful."

Nathaniel leaned back on the sofa. "We spoiled Vivienne since she was little—that's why she's so unreasonable now."

Father nodded. "She needs to learn to be considerate of her family, especially Delilah."

Grayson scrolled through his phone, as if none of this concerned him.

Delilah's eyes reddened. "Actually... did I do something to make her misunderstand? When she and Grayson first got together, I was just talking normally, but she thought I was trying to seduce him..."

Mother immediately defended her. "Don't overthink it. Vivienne's just paranoid."

I floated in mid-air, unable to speak. Warmth belonged to them. Loneliness was always mine.

Delilah was never innocent.

At seven, she deliberately disappeared for three hours. When they found her, she cried and said I'd lured her to the park to abandon her. Mother slapped me on the spot: "How could you be so cruel!"

I cried and tried to explain. No one believed me. From that day forward, my family looked at me differently—as if I really were that vicious older sister who wanted to abandon her little sister.

And Delilah, safe in our parents' arms, shot me a triumphant smile. I remembered that smile for fifteen years.

After that, I desperately tried to find someone who would put me first.

Then I met Grayson. During our first year engaged, he still remembered my birthday, still defended me. I thought I'd finally found it.

But because of Delilah, everything changed again. Grayson "coincidentally" showed up with her at cafés, started saying "Delilah has it tough too," started saying after arguments "Can't you be understanding like Delilah?"

I should have been heartbroken, but I only felt numb—my soul had been ground away through one disappointment after another.

The TV suddenly switched to a news channel.

"...Wedding between Clarke family's eldest daughter Vivienne Clarke and Sterling Group heir Grayson Sterling abruptly postponed, suspected involvement of younger sister Delilah in the relationship..."

The screen flashed our engagement photo, then a paparazzi shot of Delilah holding Grayson's arm. Comments exploded: [Another younger sister stealing her sister's man?] [This Delilah looks like a total homewrecker] [Poor Vivienne]

Mother's face turned iron. "Vivienne! She must have leaked this!"

Father slammed the table. "Three days gone, and this is what she's doing! Does she think this will force us to give in?"

"Contact PR immediately. Bury every story!" Grayson grabbed his phone, voice icy.

Nathaniel paced furiously. "Is she insane? Leaking to the media—imagine the damage to the family reputation!"

Everyone was angry, everyone blaming me.

No one asked: Where is Vivienne? Why hasn't she come home in three days? Did something happen to her?

I floated in mid-air, watching coldly. They still weren't thinking about me—only the family's image, Delilah's reputation, and how to suppress this "trouble."

The living room erupted in chaos. Father contacted lawyers, Nathaniel contacted media, Grayson arranged PR, Mother paced anxiously.

No one noticed when Delilah left, or saw the flash of malice and triumph in her eyes.

I suddenly felt uneasy—this news broke too conveniently, Delilah's reaction too calm. This was a trap.

Ten minutes later, Mother finally remembered: "Where's Delilah? I hope she wasn't scared by those online comments..."

Water running in the bathroom. Mother walked over, pushed open the half-closed door—

"Delilah!!!"

A scream shattered the night.

My spirit flew over instantly.

On the bathroom floor, Delilah lay in a pool of blood, two shocking wounds on her wrists, blood flowing freely. Her face was deathly pale, eyes closed, a bloodied razor blade beside her.