My sister slapped me in front of 200 people at her wedding because I wouldn’t give her my penthouse. Turns out a judge was watching. At my sister’s lavish wedding, my parents insisted that I give up my penthouse for their new family.
Mom exclaimed, “Selfish children don’t deserve success.” Dad added, “Your sister’s children need real homes.” My sister scoffed, finally getting what I’ve always deserved. When I declined, she struck me harshly in front of 200 people. Everyone began laughing.
I did not cry. I picked the revenge that would permanently silence them. The champagne flute trembled in my palm as I saw my sister Sabrina glide across the marble floor of the Ritz Carlton’s large ballroom, her custom Vera Wang gown trailing behind her like liquid silk.
Two hundred people had arrived to see her fairy tale wedding to Derek, a brilliant investment banker she met only eight months before. I couldn’t help but notice the irony that she was marrying for money while wanting me. I’m Vivien, 32 years old, and I’ve worked my ass hard to be where I am now.
While Sabrina was busy playing house with several lovers in her 20s, I was pulling all-nighters in law school and working 70our weeks at a top Manhattan firm. Five years ago, I took the biggest risk of my life by establishing my own firm, focusing on business litigation. It paid off spectacularly.
Last year, I concluded a settlement that allowed me to acquire a penthouse overlooking Central Park, which everyone now claimed belonged to them. “Vivien darling, you look absolutely radiant.” My mother, Diane, approached with her typical phony smile, which she saved for when she wanted something. Her silver hair was precisely quafted, and she wore a navy dress that likely cost more than most people’s rent.
“We need to have a little family chat.”
My stomach sank. Family conversations in the Morrison household were never good news. “Mom, it’s Sabrina’s wedding day.
Can’t whatever this is. Wait.”
“Actually, no.” My father, Robert, appeared beside her, his expression harsh. At 58, Dad still commanded attention in his fitted tuxedo, but his eyes bore the unmistakable disappointment that had haunted me since boyhood.
“We’ve been discussing your living situation.”
“My living situation?”
I sat down with my champagne and realized I needed both hands free. “What about my living situation?”
“Well, honey,” Mom’s voice took on that sickeningly lovely tone. “You know how Sabrina and Derek are starting their family?
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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