Chapter 3

My heart had bled back then, but I made excuses for her. I told myself she was just traditional, that she favored sons, but that she still loved me deep down.

Only now did I finally see the truth: she never loved me. She was merely waiting for her "investment" to mature so she could harvest every penny with interest.

That had been the first time I ever begged anyone, and the absolute last.

That very refusal taught me that in Martha's house, Leo and I would never stand on equal ground.

The next morning, I listed the diamond-accented emerald necklace with one of the country’s premier fine jewelry auction houses. Opening bid: half a million dollars.

Sophie watched me submit the listing, her brow furrowed with concern:

"Viv, are you absolutely sure about this?

You pulled endless all-nighters and drafted hundreds of sketches to bring that stone to life."

"I'm sure." I stared at the screen, my eyes cold and steady.

"Keeping it with me feels like an insult to its worth. Let’s find someone who actually knows how to appreciate true craftsmanship."

Right as the listing went live, my phone chimed.

It was a voice message from Martha on SnapChat. I tapped it, and her entitled tone spilled into the room:

"Vivian, the wedding planner just called to collect the remaining twenty-five thousand balance for Leo's reception. Wire that over today. Also, they booked the Grand Hyatt ballroom and need a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit upfront. You're a famous designer with connections—call their banquet director and get them to knock fifty percent off."

Reading the transcript, I almost laughed out loud.

What did they think I was? A personal debit card with unlimited funds, or an on-call concierge?

I typed back calmly:

"Mom, whoever is getting married pays for their own wedding planner. Same goes for the hotel deposit. Money doesn't grow on trees. I already covered their down payment. They can figure out the rest themselves."

Within seconds, an incoming FaceTime call flashed on my screen.

I declined it instantly.

A heartbeat later, Leo’s phone call buzzed through.

"Vivian! What the hell is your problem?! Are you still throwing a tantrum over what happened at dinner? I told you Chloe didn't mean anything by it! You're the older sister—why are you being so petty? The wedding is right around the corner! If you don't step in, do you want my in-laws to think I'm a broke loser?!"

His voice was dripping with wounded ego and absolute entitlement.

"A broke loser?" I let out a dry scoff. "Leo, you make barely enough to cover your bar tab, yet you insist on throwing a lavish six-figure wedding and living in a luxury condo I put the down payment on. If you're not embarrassed of yourself, I'm embarrassed for you."

"You—" He choked on his words, caught off guard.

"Let me make this crystal clear: my money belongs to me. Giving it to you was a favor; withholding it is my right. Don't ever take my hard work for granted again."

Without waiting for a response, I ended the call. Then, I cleanly blocked both Leo and Martha on my phone and SnapChat.

Finally, pure silence.

That peace lasted barely two days before my studio's front desk called up, saying a woman claiming to be my aunt was asking to see me.

I knew Martha had sent her mediator.

It was my Aunt Clara.

During my cold, neglected childhood, Clara had been one of the very few bright spots.

She used to slip me pocket money behind Martha's back, bought me pretty dresses, and shielded me whenever Martha screamed at me for scoring higher than Leo on exams.

I told the receptionist to send her up.

The moment Clara walked into my office, she took my hands, sighing heavily:

"Vivian, sweetie, why must you do this? Cutting off your own mother, blocking your baby brother... Your mom hasn't eaten a bite in two days. She's sitting at home crying, saying you got too successful to care about your own blood."