Chapter 3 - The Golden Child's Fall
Three days later, I was transferred to an intensive in-patient rehabilitation center overlooking the city. My days were a grueling sequence of physical therapy, pain management, and sheer willpower. I spent hours learning how to use a walker, fighting through the agonizing stiffness in my pelvis, driven solely by the sight of Leo and Maya playing on the floor mat in my recovery suite.
While I was learning to walk again, my sister Seraphina was learning how the real world operated.
Seraphina had spent her entire twenty-six years floating on a cloud of my parents' praises and my bank account. Her "luxury boutique" in the downtown arts district was a vanity project that had never turned a profit. I paid the commercial rent, the inventory costs, and her extravagant salary, simply because my mother insisted it was my duty to "support family."
On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, while I was icing my hips after a grueling session on the parallel bars, the door to my suite burst open.
Seraphina stormed in. Her designer mascara was running down her cheeks, and her usually flawless blowout was plastered to her forehead.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" she screamed, slamming her wet Prada bag onto a chair.
Mrs. Higgins, ever the professional, quietly scooped up the twins and slipped into the adjoining bedroom, closing the door to protect them from the noise.
"Hello, Sera," I said calmly, adjusting my ice packs. "Nice of you to visit. I broke my pelvis, by the way. Thanks for asking."
"Don't give me that sarcastic crap, Elena!" she shrieked, pacing the room. "I went to the boutique this morning, and there was a padlock on the door! A literal padlock! The landlord said the rent check bounced and Apex Holdings terminated the lease. My entire fall collection is locked inside!"
"Your fall collection consisted of overpriced linen shirts that nobody bought," I replied smoothly. "And yes, I terminated the lease. I gave the landlord thirty days' rent in exchange for breaking the contract early. You have until Friday to collect your inventory before he liquidates it."
Seraphina stopped pacing and stared at me as if I had grown a second head. "You can't do this! Mom said you were just having a post-accident meltdown. You have to turn the cards back on, Elena. My car got towed yesterday! I had to take an Uber here, and the driver smelled like stale fries!"
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. It physically hurt my ribs to laugh, but I couldn't help it. "Welcome to the real world, Sera. It's expensive out here."
"I am your sister!" she cried, stomping her foot. "You have millions! Mark left you the life insurance, the investments—you have more money than you could ever spend! Why are you punishing me?!"
"Because when I was lying in a hospital bed, terrified that my children were going to be taken away by social services, our mother told me to figure it out because she had to play pickleball," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And you didn't even pick up the phone when I called you."
Seraphina crossed her arms, looking away defensively. "I was at a wellness retreat! My phone was on silent! You're being completely unreasonable."
"Unreasonable?" I grabbed my walker and, with agonizing effort, pulled myself to a standing position. I wanted to look her in the eye. I wanted her to see that I was no longer the pushover older sister who bought peace with a checkbook.
"I bought you that car," I said, my voice echoing in the quiet room. "I funded that store. I paid for your wellness retreats. And in return, I got nothing but entitlement. The ATM is broken, Sera. You are twenty-six years old. Go get a job."
"You are a monster," she spat, her face contorting with rage. "Mom and Dad are losing the house! They're talking about moving into a cramped apartment! You are destroying this family!"
"No," I corrected her, sitting back down before my legs gave out. "I'm just refusing to carry it anymore. Get out of my room, Seraphina. And don't come back without an invitation."
She stared at me, waiting for me to crack, waiting for the familiar guilt to wash over my face. When she saw nothing but cold, hard resolve, she snatched her wet bag and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the framed prints on the wall rattled.
May you like
I exhaled a long, shaky breath. My heart was pounding, but beneath the adrenaline, I felt incredibly light. The dead weight I had been carrying for eight years was finally gone. Now, I just had to focus on getting back on my feet.
---
