Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up to my phone buzzing.

I checked the screen. The family group chat had 99 unread messages.

I opened the latest message. My brother, Harry Whitmore, had posted a long screenshot. It was a thousand-word rant.

"Today marks the day I finally see my sister for who she really is," the message began.

"My wife was going to visit her parents today and only asked to borrow a coat. Not only did Eleanor refuse, but she also yelled at Mom. She makes more than ten thousand a month and works in a fancy office every day, yet she can't even let her own family borrow a coat.

"All she did was give us 50 thousand for my wedding, and now she's keeping score over a coat. Mom raised her for years, and this is how she treats her."

My aunts and uncles took turns messaging me. They told me that I shouldn't be selfish and that Mom had sacrificed so much for me.

I didn't respond but took three screenshots of the messages instead.

I got out of bed and opened my closet. The designer coat was gone.

I put on an old, pilled coat and took a cab to my childhood friend Alice Cooper's wedding.

The reception was being held at the Evergreen Hotel.

The moment I stepped into the ballroom, several distant relatives turned to look at me. Their gazes landed on my coat.

One of my aunts scoffed and whispered to the person beside her. "Look at what she's wearing. The collar is completely faded. Her brother was right. The more money one makes, the stingier they get."

I ignored them and went straight to the gift table to leave my wedding gift.

Alice came over in her wedding dress, eyeing my outfit. "Where's your designer coat? Didn't you say you were wearing that limited-edition Cavell coat?"

I picked up a glass of water from the table and took a sip.

"A dog got to it."

She froze, concern flashing across her face.

I patted her hand and said, "Go enjoy your wedding. I'll tell you what happened later."

…

The reception began at noon. I sat at a table in the corner and opened my phone to scroll through my social media feed.

The first post I came across was from Selena. It was a nine-photo collage.

In the pictures, she wore the coat while taking selfies outside her parents' house. The other photos showed the champagne toast and the wedding cake. The last photo was a close-up of the bottom hem.

I zoomed in on the photo. The once-white cashmere was stained with two obvious dark red wine blotches.

The caption for the post read, "This luxury gift from my mother-in-law gets dirty so easily. It doesn't matter though. I'll just buy a new one when this one is ruined."

The red wine had already soaked deep into the cashmere fibers. The tear at the seam had worsened since the night before, and the lining inside was starting to spill out.

I saved the photo.

At 2:00 pm, a photo was sent into the family group chat. It was from Mom.

The photo showed a jewelry counter inside a department store. A gold bracelet sat on a velvet tray. Beside it was a receipt for 32.8 thousand.

Mom sent a voice message. "This bracelet is gorgeous. Selena is such a thoughtful daughter-in-law. She insisted on buying it for me."

My relatives immediately flooded the chat with praise and compliments.

Three minutes later, my phone lit up with an alert from my bank.

"Your supplementary card ending in 8868 was used for an attempted transaction of 32.8 thousand Lucienne Jewelers on September 15 at 2:05 pm. The transaction was declined due to an insufficient credit limit."

I looked at the message and snorted before taking a screenshot.

The family group chat went silent for five minutes.

Then, Mom sent three voice messages in a row. The first one demanded to know what I had done to the card. The second ordered me to transfer 30 thousand to her immediately, and the third accused me of deliberately humiliating her in front of Selena's family.

I left the group chat and silenced my phone. After slipping the phone back into my bag, I helped myself to another cupcake.

The wedding was over by 8:00 pm.

When I got back to my apartment, I had 47 missed calls. Every one of them was from Mom or Harry.

I opened the family group chat.

"So you're ignoring my calls, huh? Fine," Mom's last voice message said. "Tomorrow's Monday. I'll head straight to your office and have a word with your boss. I'm going to let everyone at your company know just what an ungrateful excuse of a daughter you are."