Chapter 3

3

My brother, Mark, had been trying to soothe Mandy, but seeing me going off like a firecracker at everyone, he frowned and started lecturing me about disrespecting my elders.

I thought back to the last time, when he'd used the internet to try and destroy me, making it so I was too scared to even leave the house. And how he arranged for my car to get sabotaged, which almost killed me.

Even when I was near my breaking point, my so-called brother hadn't let up.

He and Jake had teamed up, switching out my meds to turn me into a basket case.

When I jumped, my wrists were a roadmap of scars.

Completely nuts.

Living hell.

"How can you even talk to me about being a 'good daughter?' You were a total joke when you decided to ditch your family and marry some stripper! Then, when you joined the family company, you ran it straight into the ground in three months. If I hadn't stepped in, you'd all be sucking fumes right now."

I would never have said stuff like that before, because I wanted to save face for them, especially Mark. He was useless, and had a hair-trigger temper. The reason he liked Mandy was because she was weaker than him, he just used her to make himself feel better. Compared to Mandy, he was the all-powerful big brother, but next to me, people would point out he couldn't do a thing without me.

Mark's face went white, his features twisting up.

"You're a failure! Can't people even point that out?"

I twisted the knife, aiming straight for his soft spots.

Just then, Mandy started crying, "Sis, yell at me all you want, but leave Mom, Dad, and Mark out of this. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come here like this, but I'm running out of time. The doctor says I only have six months left…"

She could give a tutorial to the greenest of green tea girls and she would come out on top. Should I not call her out? She ruined my wedding, stole my man, and now she's playing the victim? She's disgusting.

The "six months to live" thing was a total lie.

But it was enough to get everyone to try and destroy me for her.

I finally understood: it was favoritism.

No matter what Mandy did, they'd always side with her.

I stopped paying attention to them and turned to walk away.

The wedding dress felt heavy, but I felt lighter than I had in years.

I'd been given a second chance.

This time, I was only living for myself.

That same day, I moved out of the honeymoon suite and started drafting the divorce papers.

To give them a taste of their own medicine, I swiped the full video from the photographer, did some editing, and uploaded it online.

Caption: "High-Society Drama: Sisters Fight Over the Same Man."

The headline caused a freakin' tsunami of clicks.

In a matter of hours, the story was trending.

[Ew! Disgusting! This "dying sister" thinks she's the main character in a novel? What is it with the dying drama? If she wants to die, she should hurry up and do it, and stop ruining her sister's wedding.]

[Sisters looking for ideas on how to steal someone's man, take notes: "The doctor says I'm dying, will you spend my last moments with me?" LMAO! She's the highlight of my year.]

[The groom isn't any better. She crooks her finger, and he comes running like a puppy. What does he think of his wife? Is she just part of their twisted game? What a pair of trash cans.]

[This poor girl! Her husband gets stolen, her wedding gets ruined, and she gets blamed by her family. She has to be adopted, right?]

The internet went wild.

The phrase "The doctor says I'm dying, will you spend my last moments with me?" became a meme.

People kept dropping it into conversations to troll everyone.