shocked.
Then something ugly surfaced in her face.
“You’ve always thought you’re better than me.”
I blinked.
“Are you serious?”
“You have the business. The house. Grant. Now the perfect baby.”
Her voice cracked on the final word.
And suddenly I realized this was more than entitlement.
She hated me.
Not casually.
Not the ordinary resentment sisters sometimes carry.
There was something old and deeply rooted in her expression.
Something I had failed to see because I’d spent so much time fixing her problems that I never noticed she blamed
