Chapter 3

I jeered. "Ms. Gallagher, it seems you've misunderstood a few things."

The smile on her face froze for a moment.

"First of all, I am the sole owner of this house. My name's on the property deed, not Darrell's, and certainly not yours. So, if you want to make it your marital home, you should've asked me first."

I rose from my seat and towered over her. "Secondly, every single tile in this house was handpicked by my brother and me. That scratch on the wall marks Darrell's height measurement from middle school, and the wall you just said you wanted to tear down was covered with wallpaper that my mom personally put up before she died."

I stared at her. "So, you came in here, took one lap around the house, and decided you were going to gut my home?"

Vivian couldn't maintain her composure any longer.

Just then, Darrell emerged from the bathroom and froze. "What's going on here?"

She immediately grasped his arm and choked out, "Your sister's too much, Darry! I was trying to do her a favor by hunting for apartments for her. But instead of being grateful, she's kicking me out!"

He frowned. "Why are you apartment hunting for my sister?"

Vivian was stumped. Her embarrassment morphed into anger in no time. "Why are you yelling at me? I'm doing this for you!"

She turned to leave, swinging her arm carelessly as she did. Her hand caught the edge of the shoe cabinet, knocking the framed photo of Dylan and me off its surface. It hit the floor a second later, the glass shattering on impact.

Vivian froze, but she didn't apologize. "I didn't do it on purpose. It's your fault for leaving it right there!"

The blood drained from Darrell's face. When he met my ice-cold gaze, he instantly lost his nerve. He yanked Vivian's arm and dragged her outside.

Vivian stumbled out, yelling over her shoulder, "Why are you dragging me out? It's just a stupid picture frame! What's the big deal?"

The door clicked shut.

I crouched down. A shard of glass pricked my finger, but I paid it no mind.

I had taken this photo with Dylan when I graduated from college. It was also our last photo together.

And just like that, it shattered.

…

That night, Darrell sent me a message. "Vivi knows she was in the wrong, Elle. She has reserved a private room at The Crimson Pavilion tomorrow evening. She wants to apologize to you and Rosalie in person. I've already called Rosalie, and she's agreed to be there."

I ignored him.

Two minutes later, Rosalie texted me as well. "Darry told me what happened, Elle. The young lady didn't know any better. Since she wants to apologize to us in person, I think we should go. After all, we practically raised Darry. If we don't go, it'll strain our relationship."

Looking at the fold cutting across Dylan's face in the photo, I replied. "Alright."

…

Rosalie and I arrived at The Crimson Pavilion at 7:00 pm.

Vivian rose from her seat to greet us. She wore light makeup and a simple, elegant dress, making her look gentle and demure.

Once we took our seats, she picked up her wine glass and rose to her feet. "I'd like to propose a toast to you both, Rosalie and Danielle."

Her eyes misted over as she bent slightly forward. "I previously got the wrong idea. I spoke out of turn without knowing the full story and ended up hurting both of you. I especially shouldn't have said those awful things about you the other day, Rosalie.

"After I went home, the more I thought about it, the more I regretted it! Rosalie, you're raising two children on your own, and you're holding this family together. I shouldn't have said those things."

Rosalie reached out to pat the back of her hand, comforting her. "Alright, alright. Now that we've talked it out, it's all in the past. We're all family here. There's no need to stand on ceremony."

Lifting a glass of wine, Vivian apologized to me. "I completely misunderstood you, Danielle. I'm sorry."

I didn't accept it. So, she was left awkwardly holding it out, her eyes darting toward Darrell.

"Vivi has already apologized, Elle. Please forgive her," Darrell chimed in from the side.

I took the wine glass and, without taking a single sip, set it on the table.

Vivian seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, she turned to the waiter and told them to bring out the dishes.

As soon as the dishes were served, the doors to the private dining room swung open. The very next second, a middle-aged man with a potbelly sauntered in. By the look of him, he was well into his 40s.

Vivian's eyes lit up, and she hurriedly stood up to greet him. "Mr. Fisher, you're here! Please, have a seat!"