Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF A SISTER
The heavy gold Rolex lay on the polished floor, reflecting the harsh ballroom chandeliers. It was a man’s watch, gaudy and expensive, the kind of luxury item Owen always lusted after but could never afford on his salary.
Until now.
I stared at the watch, then up at my sister. Rachel was trembling so violently her teeth were visibly chattering. She looked at me, her eyes begging for a mercy I didn't yet know if I could give.
“Rachel,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Why do you have his watch? And what did he mean about the rehab money?”
“I… I can explain, Lyd,” Rachel stammered, tears spilling over her mascara. She didn't try to pick up the watch. She just stared at it like it was a venomous snake.
“Explain how you sold me out?” I asked, the betrayal tasting like copper in my mouth.
“I didn't sell you out!” Rachel cried, her voice cracking. “I saved your life! When he tried to pull the plug in September, I went to the lawyers. The private clinic cost ten thousand a month. Insurance wouldn't cover it because they said you were a lost cause! I was going to lose my house, Lydia. I was going to go bankrupt trying to keep your machines on.”
She pointed a shaking finger at Owen, who was watching the scene with a sick, satisfied smirk.
“He came to me,” Rachel choked out. “He said he had found a private investor. He said he would pay the clinic bills in cash, every single month, but only if I kept you at the facility and didn't tell anyone at his company you were alive. He said it was a corporate PR issue—that if the company found out you survived, they’d fire him for the distraction. It didn't make sense, but I didn't care! I just needed the money to keep you alive!”
“So you took his dirty money,” Owen mocked, crossing his arms. “You knew I was lying to everyone, and you took the cash. You’re just as guilty as I am.”
“I didn't know you told them she was dead!” Rachel screamed, lunging a step toward him before a coworker held her back. “I thought you just wanted privacy! When I found out about the GoFundMe, I confronted you, and you gave me that stupid watch to pawn to keep me quiet!”
The room was spinning. My sister, the woman who had sat by my bedside, who had held my hand as I learned to walk again, had been funded by the very man who tried to murder me. She had made a deal with the devil to save my life.
“Rachel,” I whispered, the exhaustion finally catching up to my shattered bones. “You lied to me every Thursday when he came to visit. You let him sit in my room and pretend to be a loving husband.”
“Because if I made him mad, he’d stop paying the bills!” Rachel sobbed, falling to her knees to grab my hand. “You would have been transferred to a state ward, Lydia. You would have died there. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I looked down at my sister. She was flawed, desperate, and deeply compromised. But unlike Owen, her motive hadn't been greed. It had been love, however distorted it had become.
I gently pulled my hand away from hers, not out of anger, but out of a need to stand on my own. I adjusted my grip on my cane.
“Get up, Rachel,” I said quietly. “You don't need to beg him for my life anymore.”
I turned my attention back to Owen. The smirk on his face had faded. The crowd of employees had closed in tighter around him. The sales team, the marketing department, the warehouse workers—they were a wall of bodies blocking every exit.
Mrs. Bennett stepped forward, pulling a cell phone from her tailored blazer.
“The police are on their way, Owen,” she said, her voice ringing with finality. “David has already emailed the audit logs to the precinct. You aren't going to Belize. You’re going to federal prison.”
Panic finally shattered Owen’s arrogant facade. He looked around wildly, realizing he was entirely trapped. He looked at me, his eyes wide and pleading.
“Lydia, please,” he begged, his voice dropping an octave, trying to summon the charm that had won me over twelve years ago. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a faded, crinkled photograph.
It was a picture of us on our honeymoon in Hawaii. We were laughing, covered in sand, young and oblivious.
“Look at this,” Owen pleaded, holding it out to me with a trembling hand. “We loved each other, Lyd. We were happy. I just made some mistakes. I got in too deep. But I still love you. Please, tell them to let me go. I’ll disappear. You’ll never have to see me again.”
I stared at the photograph. For a fraction of a second, the ghost of the man I thought I married tugged at my heart.
Then I looked at Caroline, who was quietly crying. I looked at Maya, the innocent child he was ready to abandon. And I felt the agonizing ache in my pelvis, a permanent reminder of the life he tried to steal from me.
I took the photograph from his shaking hand.
And then, with deliberate, unhurried precision, I tore it in half.
The sound of the ripping paper was louder than a gunshot in the silent ballroom.
I dropped the pieces on the floor, right next to the gold Rolex.
Before Owen could say another word, the heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open. Two uniformed police officers stepped inside, their radios crackling in the quiet room.
But as they approached, Maya let out a piercing wail and ran toward the officers, dropping something small and heavy from her pocket as she ran.
May you like
It hit the floor and rolled directly to the toe of my shoe.
I looked down. It was a single, bloody car key.
