Chapter 3

3

The Grant family scheduled the formal meeting in mid-March.

It was at "The Winter Garden," Philadelphia's most exclusive private restaurant. Tables had to be booked months in advance.

The main guests were Calvin Grant, the patriarch, and his son William.

My mother was polishing her crystal figurines when she got the news.

She hung up and knocked on my door.

"If your sister pulls this off, our family will never have to worry about money again."

"Good," I said.

She seemed surprised by my lack of bitterness. She nodded and left, satisfied.

Elara spent two weeks preparing.

She bought a cream-colored dress with delicate embroidery. It looked innocent and soft.

She even got her teeth whitened because she heard Mrs. Grant valued a perfect smile.

At 2 PM on the day of the meeting, my mother and Elara left the house.

I sat by the window and watched their car pull away.

Then I opened my laptop and did something my past self would never do.

I checked Tyler Watts' social media.

He had posted a photo.

It was a messy hotel bed with an empty bottle and two glasses on the nightstand.

The caption read: "Drinking alone tonight."

The timestamp was 1:47 PM.

In twenty minutes, Elara was supposed to be charming the Grants.

But her boyfriend was drinking alone in a hotel room.

I didn't do anything.

I just sat there and waited.

At 6 PM, my mother returned.

She didn't come to my room, but I heard her on the phone in the living room. Her voice was low, but the walls were thin.

"Yes, Mr. Grant, Elara is feeling quite unwell… yes, a sudden stomach bug… next time, definitely next time…"

She slammed her purse onto the sofa after hanging up.

Then she called Elara.

Even through the walls, I could hear Elara sobbing.

"Mom, it's not my fault, he said he missed me and had to see me…"

"Are you an idiot?!" my mother's voice shrieked. "Do you know what today was?!"

"Mom―"

"Get your ass home. Now."

My mother sat on the sofa like a piece of cracked porcelain.

I knew her too well.

I knew exactly what her next move was―to sacrifice me.

Sacrificing me was her only way to fix anything.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, she knocked on my door.

"You're going to meet William Grant tomorrow."

No explanation. No apology.

It was as if she were just telling me it might rain tomorrow.

In my last life, I cried.

I asked her why it always had to be me. I asked her why Elara was always the priority.

She had looked at me with nothing but annoyance.

"You're the responsible one. Why can't you just help her out?"

I remembered that sentence for thirty-one years.

In this life, I stood before her and looked into her shifting eyes. She was guilty.

When she felt guilty, she would lift her chin and act like she was doing me a favor.

"Okay, Mom," I said.

She froze.

She expected a fight, tears, and questions.

I gave her none of that.

I changed my clothes, went downstairs, and bought myself a bouquet of flowers.

Then I showed up at "The Winter Garden" exactly on time.