I always knew my sister Stephanie was the favorite. While I worked hard for every achievement, she simply had to show up to receive praise. But nothing prepared me for the day she crossed the ultimate line – stealing my husband while I was pregnant with his child.
It started with subtle warnings from my grandmother, the only person who truly loved me. She noticed how Harry, my husband, was growing closer to my family – especially Stephanie. I brushed it off until the day I came home early and found them in our bed. The betrayal cut deeper than I could have imagined.
Harry turned cruel overnight, accusing me of infidelity and kicking me out of our home. With nowhere to go, I returned to my grandmother’s house, heartbroken but determined to rebuild my life.
Then came the final blow – my grandmother’s terminal diagnosis. She passed away before meeting my son, but not before ensuring our future by leaving me everything in her will.
The irony? Stephanie showed up at my door months later, desperate for help. Harry had drained her financially and emotionally, just as he had done to me. But this time, I wasn’t the pushover she remembered. I sent her away with nothing but the name of a divorce lawyer – the same mercy she never showed me.
Sometimes, life’s justice is sweeter than revenge.
