Chapter 3

I stared at the key, my nails digging into my palm.

Marigold deliberately moved closer.

"I'm so jealous, Lavinia. It may be a used e-bike, but at least you have a ride. I don't even have a car."

Mom gave Marigold's nose an affectionate tap.

"We got yours already. We were going to wait until your birthday."

Dad pulled a new car key from his suit pocket and placed it in her hand. Marigold squealed and hugged them both.

The key to my old e-bike lay forgotten in its box.

Mom watched my face. "You get a gift and can't even say thank you? That sour look is exactly why we never want to buy you anything."

Caspian took my hand. I squeezed back and managed a strained smile.

The guests were still there. I didn't want him humiliated alongside me, so I sat down at our table.

Then I saw the food.

Dad was cutting a piece of roast beef for Marigold. "She didn't like a single thing on the menu you picked. I had the restaurant change it."

Every meal at home had always been made to Marigold's taste.

My wedding menu had been the first one I'd ever chosen for myself. In the end, even that choice hadn't lasted.

Dad seemed to notice my expression and pointed to another plate. "There's garlic shrimp. You love that."

His smile looked forced, as if he'd finally found proof he remembered something I liked.

I looked at the shrimp. "I'm allergic."

His knife paused. He clearly hadn't remembered.

Mom frowned. "Then don't eat it. Did you have to bring it up today?"

But she turned to Marigold at once. "Don't touch the steak. You broke out in a rash the last time you ate it."

I set down my napkin and stood with Caspian to thank our guests.

I'd only taken two steps when I felt a sudden chill across my chest.

Rrrip.

The front of my dress split open, and the fabric slipped down off my shoulder. Gasps rose around us.

Caspian shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around me, shielding me with his body.

Marigold was the only person who'd gone into the room where my dress had been kept.

Now she stood nearby, laughing.

"Lavinia, you could've said the dress was too small. Don't blame the fabric. Everyone saw what happened."

I clutched the jacket closed and looked to Mom. Some part of me still wanted her to stand up for me.

She glanced at me, then looked away.

Just as she always had.

In middle school, when I was performing in a school show, Marigold slipped a laxative into my breakfast. I was humiliated backstage.

In high school, she replaced the slides for my public speech with explicit photos. The school withdrew its recommendation for my college scholarship application.

Now she'd ruined my wedding, too.

I looked at my parents. "You're not going to say anything?"

Mom's voice turned shrill. "What proof do you have that Marigold did it? Your dress doesn't fit, so you blame your sister?"

"Maybe you wanted everyone looking at you."

"Even if she did touch it, it was only a joke between sisters. The guests are watching. How much longer are you going to make a scene?"

I dug my nails into my palm. Somehow, I smiled.

"Fine. If you won't deal with her, I will."