Chapter 3

Jessica didn't respond. Instead, she saved the screen recording before hanging up the call.

Before leaving, she wanted everyone to see what kind of person the "apparently" delicate and fragile Abby really was.

And yet, her chest still ached as Abby's words echoed in her mind.

"Jessica, you never should have been born. You can never win against me."

That's true. Why had she even been born?

She was supposed to be the cherished younger sister. But because their parents were afraid of hurting their eldest daughter, Abby, they gave all their love to Abby instead.

They had said, "Be sensible. If it weren't for you, Abby would have had everything. Now she has to share some of it with you."

But had anything ever really been shared with her?

From childhood to now, Abby had pretty dresses and dolls—she had none.

Abby was sent to various art and talent classes—she was not.

Abby celebrated her birthday every year, with cake and presents—she did not, even though their birthdays were just one day apart.

Ah, but no, that wasn't entirely true.

She did have one birthday celebration. The year she met Jack.

Back then, Jack gave her love, warmth, and everything she had been missing.

For years, he remembered her birthday, giving her gifts without fail.

He was always there for her, protecting her, telling her, "Jess, don't worry. The past is the past. I'll give you a future. A future beyond futures."

That night, when his youthful lips brushed against hers, the sky was filled with countless stars.

But now, that same Jack had slapped her across the face—without hesitation—for Abby.

Jessica wiped away the tears she hadn't even realized had fallen. She found a small storage box and placed inside it everything Jack had ever given her.

It was time to put an end to this.

As for the wedding, she'd find a chance to call it off.

She barely slept that night, and the next morning, she was up early.

After washing up, she checked the selling site. Someone had already placed a bid. The buyer insisted on an in-person transaction to inspect the goods.

They had arranged to meet today—at any time.

Jessica finished freshening up and headed downstairs. Just as she stepped out of her room, she ran into Abby.

Remembering the evidence she needed, she slipped a hand into her pocket and switched on the recording function on her phone.

At this hour, only the two of them were home. Abby dropped all pretense.

She strolled over, arms crossed arrogantly. There was no sign of the weak and delicate girl she pretended to be.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Jess, why did you hang up last night? Were you heartbroken? All I had to do was just put on a little show, and Mom, Dad, and Jack were wrapped around my finger. Oh, and I told Jack I wanted breakfast this morning. Guess what? He's bringing it for me. And he's your fiancé. You two are getting married in six days. How could he?"

She let out a laugh, covering her mouth as if she had just shared a delightful joke.

Jessica felt another faint, imperceptible pang in her heart.

Once, Jack had only cared for her.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Still, she couldn't hold back. "You're right, he's taking care of you now, but in a few days, I'll be the one standing next to him as his bride. What does that make you? A mistress?"

Abby kept smiling. "Jess, do you really believe that? If I want, I can make sure Jack never marries you. And as for being a mistress… Well, I'm just a fragile older sister who needs looking after. Who would ever call me a mistress?"

Jessica opened her mouth to retort—

But just then, the doorbell rang.

She walked over and looked through the peephole.

It was the framed artwork she had sent out for mounting.

She had spent nearly three months designing this piece. It was this very work that had earned her the opportunity to study in Paris.

Jessica signed for it and was about to carry it to her bedroom when Abby suddenly lunged forward.

"Let me see," she sneered. "What kind of useless trash have you designed this time? You even got it framed?"

Jessica didn't want her to touch it and tried to take it back.

But in the struggle, the painting slipped—

With a loud crash, the glass shattered against the floor.

Shards scattered everywhere.

Some lodged into the skin of Jessica's foot. Blood seeped out.

She looked at the broken frame, her chest tightening.

There were only a few days left before she had to send this piece to Paris. Now it was ruined. If she had to get it reframed, would she even make it in time?

Abby, standing at a safe distance, was unscathed. She was just about to mock her when—

The sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted her.

In an instant, she changed her expression.

"Jess, how could you?" she gasped, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to see your design! Why would you throw it at me?"

Jessica was speechless. 'Here we go again.'

And in the next second—

Jack rushed in, holding a bag of breakfast. Without even stopping to assess the situation, he launched straight into accusations.

"Jessica, you really are vicious!" His voice was sharp and cutting. "Abby just wanted to see your work. What's the big deal? How could you throw it at her?"