My boyfriend, Antonio Kaufman, and my brother, Tyler Parrish, were both smitten with Michelle Conner, the new girl in town.

Antonio abruptly ended our engagement, coldly stating, "I haven't had feelings for you for a long time, Grace.."

Tyler, disregarding our mom's dying wishes that he look after me, dismissed my concerns with, "Michelle has such a hard life, and now she's like family. You get that, right?"

On my birthday, Antonio chose to be with Michelle, leaving me alone.

On the anniversary of our mom's death, Tyler was celebrating with Michelle and her mom, oblivious to my grief.

When they were off to Abalind for Michelle's design award, I set fire to our childhood home, a repository of shared memories.

The school was abuzz with rumors of my suicide.

They wept over my photo, expressing remorse for abandoning me, but it was far too late.

***

"We're engaged, remember?" I reminded Antonio at a party, hoping to jolt his memory, to reclaim some semblance of our past.

The room fell silent, everyone anticipating his response.

He looked annoying. "Our engagement was arranged by our parents. It wasn't my choice."

I pressed, my voice barely a whisper. "Then why did you agree to it?"

I glanced at Antonio lounging on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a scattering of hickeys.

A wave of nausea washed over me.

It was clear he had given his heart to someone else.

"I didn't understand what love was until now," he admitted, his gaze icy.

My breath hitched, a hollow ache spreading through my chest.

Antonio sighed, his irritation palpable. "Grace, we're adults. I have the right to choose who I want to be with. Let's not dwell on the past."

Stunned into silence, I felt a strange sense of detachment, as if watching my own life unfold from a distance.

He'd made it easy to let go.

The door swung open, and Michelle entered, dressed in a waitress uniform, carrying a tray.

She flinched when she saw me. "I'm sorry.Wrong room."

Instead of leaving, She looked at Antonio, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'll come find you tomorrow," she whispered, her voice trembling.

She set the tray down and turned to go.

Suddenly, Antonio kicked the coffee table in front of him.

Wine glasses shattered, spraying shards of glass across the room.

A sharp pain shot through my arm as a piece of glass sliced into my skin. Blood welled up.

Yet, Antonio didn't even look at me.

He strode towards Michelle, his face contorted with rage.

He grabbed her ruffled apron and ripped it off. "Michelle, I told you not to work anymore!"

Michelle quickly nodded, her voice meek, "I just don't want to keep taking your money.

"You and Tyler have done enough for me.

"I can support myself."

"But I don't want you to," he snarled, tossing the apron aside.

He pulled her towards the door. "Come on. Let's go. If I see you working again, I'll shut this place down."

Michelle shook her head, bewildered by his outburst.

Antonio turned to me, his voice sharp and accusatory. "Did you make her work here? She's been through enough. Why are you doing this to her?"

I clutched my bleeding arm, my gaze met his, blank and unreadable.

We had a party at a bar owned by my family.

Michelle's family was struggling. Her dad's drug addiction had left them deep in debt.

Antonio, convinced I was somehow responsible for Michelle's taking a job there, glared at me accusingly.

He, and Tyler, seemed to have forgotton that Michelle was now the object of their affections, showered with gifts and money.

She was practically rolling in it.

Why would she need to work?

I didn't bother explaining.

Even if the bar manager corroborated my story, Antonio wouldn't believe me.

In his eyes, I was the villain, persecuting Michelle.

"Grace, answer me," Antonio demanded, pulling Michelle protectively into his arms, his gaze sharp.

"This engagement is over!" His words echoed through the suddenly silent room.

Michelle paled, trembling in his embrace.

My friends watched me warily, as if I was the instigator.

The absurdity of the situation almost made me laugh.

The truth was, ever since Michelle and her mom arrived, things had been strained between Antonio and me.

The attention that had once been solely mine was now divided.

Everyone was captivated by Michelle and her mom.

I, who had always had Tyler and Antonio's undivided attention, was now invisible. It stung.

But their concern for Michelle went beyond simple infatuation.

Why? I was Tyler's sister and Antonio's girlfriend. Shouldn't I matter more?

I was done.

"I'll leave," I said to Antonio, my voice flat, my face mirroring the emptiness in my heart.

I took a step forward.

Instinctively, Antonio shielded Michelle behind him. "Grace, what are you doing?"

I released the pressure on my bleeding arm and reached for my jacket on the couch. "Getting my things."

Drops of blood stained the couch, a stark contrast against the muted colors of the room.

Antonio's jaw tightened. Seeing my wound, he seemed about to speak.

Michelle wriggled free from Antonio's embrace and planted herself between us.

"Ms. Parrish, please don't be too hard on Antonio," she begged, tears welling up in her eyes.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have interfered in your relationship." She wiped her nose. "I'll leave now."

Antonio's expression softened as he looked at Michelle. "Why are you apologizing? Grace is the one who should be sorry!"

He gently brushed away her tears, then turned a hardened gaze back to me. "Grace, get your things and leave."

"I'll break off the engagement," I said, cutting him off, "but first, you should return what's mine."

Antonio looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

I pulled off my engagement ring, the one his mother had given me, claiming it was a family heirloom passed down from his grandmother.

In return, my mother had given him with a ring from her own collection, a piece she'd purchased at auction for a million dollars, rumored to have belonged to Napoleon.

Antonio's face darkened. His ring finger was bare.

He'd worn that ring every day since he was fifteen.

After a moment, he gave a dismissive smile, "That ring was hideous. I was going to get rid of it anyway."

He avoided my gaze. "It's at home. I'll return it later."

I walked through the front door to find Tyler in the living room. "We need to talk," he said, his expression serious.

He shoved a stack of papers at me. "I'm thinking of putting the Quillshire office building in Michelle's name. The rental income would help her out.

"Michelle had a tough childhood, and she's family now. We need to look out for her."

I glanced at the documents.

The Quillshire building was part of my mom's legacy, a present from her mom on her eighteenth birthday.

It wasn't just an office building. It was a piece of our family history.

Without a word, I tore the papers in half.

"What the hell are you doing? I spent all afternoon on those!" Tyler exploded, his voice sharp with frustration.

"Remember when you pushed Michelle down the stairs? I covered for you. She was a mess, crying her eyes out. You owe her," his tone turned icy.

"Have you forgotten what Mom asked of you?" I threw at him, my voice thick with grief.

Tyler fell silent.

He had been there when my mom, on her deathbed, had made him promise to protect and cherish me, to never let anyone hurt me or take what was rightfully mine.

"I remember," Tyler said, his jaw set. "But you need to understand. Michelle is like a sister to me now."

"I promised to Mom I'd look after my sister, and that includes Michelle. I'm going to take care of her," he spoke as if that settled everything.

I let out a short, hollow laugh.

Our mom was gone, but Michelle's mom was still very much alive.

"Grace, be reasonable," Tyler sighed. "Learn from Michelle. She's so well-behaved."