Thomas James stood before Ursula Abbott, his voice terrifyingly calm.

"Give the wedding to Teresa Abbott."

Ursula froze, certain she'd misheard. "What did you say?"

"Teresa got lost as a child. You know that." Thomas lowered his gaze. "She's terminally ill now. She doesn't have much time left, and I want to grant her final wish."

Ursula stared at the man in front of her, suddenly feeling like she was looking at a stranger.

She'd known him for twenty-two years, from their awkward teenage years until now. Never once had she imagined hearing something like this from him.

"So the wedding we've spent six months planning—you're just handing it over to someone else?"

"She's your sister."

"And because she's my sister, I'm supposed to step aside?"

Thomas frowned, clearly unwilling to argue the point. "Teresa is dying. You can't even grant her this one thing?"

Ursula drew a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. "Thomas, is this some kind of joke?"

She searched his eyes for any trace of humor. "Do my parents know about this? Do yours?"

Thomas reached into his suit jacket and withdrew several gold-embossed invitations, spreading them across the coffee table.

"These are the wedding invitations. Both sets of parents' names are right there."

Ursula looked down.

The invitations did bear her parents' names alongside his. But in the space reserved for the bride, her name had been replaced with Teresa's.

"This is what both families agreed on." Thomas gathered up the invitations.

Ursula's fingers trembled slightly.

She wanted to laugh but found she couldn't.

Her whole life, Teresa had gotten everything she wanted. When Teresa wanted a doll, Ursula's would mysteriously vanish. When Teresa wanted a new dress, Ursula's would suddenly be stained with ink that wouldn't wash out.

Now Teresa was taking her fiancé too.

"Thomas, Teresa isn't sick." Ursula spoke each word with deliberate precision.

Thomas's expression darkened immediately. "Ursula, I know you're jealous of Teresa, but you shouldn't curse her."

"I'm not cursing her. I'm stating facts."

"Facts?" Thomas let out a cold laugh. "Last week I personally took her to the hospital. Terminal cancer—the doctors say six months at most. And you're telling me it's fake?"

Ursula went still.

Terminal cancer? Two days ago Teresa had been bouncing around the house. Yesterday she'd gone to play tennis with friends. Would a terminal cancer patient have that kind of energy?

"You've been deceived."

"Enough!" Thomas cut her off. "This isn't the first time you've slandered Teresa. Can't you stop being so vicious?"

His eyes were full of disgust as he looked at her. "Teresa went missing as a child, and you happened to be there. Now that I think about it, that disappearance probably wasn't an accident, was it?"

Ursula's eyes widened.

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing." Thomas rose to leave. "Think it over. I hope you still have a conscience."

At the door, he added without looking back: "Don't let Teresa leave this world with regrets."

The door slammed shut.

Ursula stood alone in the living room, her mind blank.

She couldn't understand why everyone always sided with Teresa.

...

Back at the Abbott residence, the failed fingerprint scan hit her like another blow.

She stared numbly at the door until Ann Finch hurried to open it.

"Ms. Abbott, what brings you back?"

"Who deleted my fingerprint?"

"Ms. Abbott, things are rather busy here right now. Perhaps... you should come back another time?" Ann couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. Mr. and Mrs. Abbott had given strict orders: during the eldest daughter's wedding preparations, the second daughter wasn't to come home—lest she upset Teresa.

But Ursula had already heard the laughter echoing from inside the villa.

She didn't understand. They were both daughters of the Abbott family, yet their treatment couldn't be more different.

"What are you doing here?"

The moment Ursula stepped into the living room, her mother Odette Matthews greeted her with a scowl.

But Ursula's gaze moved past her, taking in the red double-happiness characters covering every wall.

The blazing red seared her eyes.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'? Your sister's wedding is coming up—stop bringing bad luck into this house."

Odette couldn't stand that pitiful look on her face. If it weren't for Ursula, Teresa wouldn't have been lost to them all those years, and she certainly wouldn't have developed bone cancer so young.

Meanwhile, Ursula had lived like a princess under this roof, opposing Teresa at every turn.

"I'm warning you—your sister's marriage to Thomas is set in stone. Don't even think about pulling anything, and stay out of his sight."

"What about me?" Ursula looked at her, eyes hollow. "Everyone knows Thomas and I have been together. You're having Teresa marry him... Have you even considered what people will say behind my back? How they'll mock me?"

"What nonsense. Compared to your sister's happiness, a few whispers about you mean nothing." Odette waved it off, convinced Ursula simply refused to make sacrifices.

"Your sister has suffered so much. This entire family owes her. Forget a marriage arrangement—I'd give her the whole Abbott estate if I could. She's this sick now, and you'd still watch her die alone? Do you have any humanity left?"

Ursula fell silent.

In their minds, Teresa's name had always been sacred, above everything else.

No one thought it absurd for a younger sister to surrender her fiancé to the elder. No one cared that Ursula would become a laughingstock.

"If I don't agree—"

"What right do you have to refuse?"

Odette's smile turned cold. That meticulously maintained face showed not a trace of maternal warmth.

"Let me be clear: Thomas agreed to marry your sister himself. He wants to take responsibility for her, to make it up to her, to care for her. If you ask me, he's had feelings for her all along. Keep making a scene and you'll only humiliate yourself."

She gestured, and someone handed Ursula a stack of photographs.

Scenic shots from around the world.

Even a glance revealed landmarks from multiple countries—and in each one, Teresa and Thomas, posing together like lovers.

But what truly gutted her were the dates printed on each photo. Every single one matched a time when she'd been away on business.

For two years, ever since the Abbotts made it clear they wouldn't provide much of a dowry, she'd been working herself ragged, taking every trip she could.

All so she wouldn't embarrass Thomas when they married.

"I need to hear it from him!"

Ursula spun around—and there stood Teresa, poised and elegant, right behind her.

"No need for all that trouble. The answers you want? I have them right here."

Cold rain spilled from the night sky.

Ursula walked numbly through the downpour, ignoring the bite of the chill, her mind replaying the video Teresa had shown her.

Someone had asked Thomas: "Thomas, you're really marrying Teresa? Cancer's unpredictable... What if she recovers? Or doesn't die as quickly as expected? What happens to Ursula?"

Thomas's voice had been lazy, indifferent. "Teresa is her sister. If she survives, Ursula should be happy for her."

"But then Ursula can't marry you. Aren't you worried she'll get angry and leave?"

Thomas had smiled faintly, swirling his glass with nauseating self-satisfaction.

"A dog that's been trained to depend on you doesn't just walk away from its master. Besides, she's worked so hard to marry me. She won't give that up."

Twenty-two years.

She had known Thomas James for twenty-two years.

Never once had she imagined he would describe her in such degrading terms.

And Teresa—Teresa had made a point of showing off the hickeys on her neck, telling her that Thomas had already slept with her.

The nausea hit her in waves.

Ursula doubled over in the rain, tears and bile threatening to spill out all at once.

She didn't know how long she stood there before her vision blurred and everything went dark.

When she opened her eyes again, an IV line was taped to the back of her hand.

"Ursula! You're awake? You've been out for three days—you scared me half to death!"

A sweet, vaguely familiar voice rang out beside her. It took Ursula a moment to place it.

"You're... Hailey?"

In her hazy memories, a young girl had asked her over and over, tears streaming down her face, "Can you really save my brother?" That image now overlapped with the person in front of her.

Hailey Weiss broke into a bright smile and gave her a quick rundown of how she'd stumbled upon Ursula unconscious.

"By the way, why were you standing alone in the rain in the middle of the night? I called your emergency contact, but no one ever showed up. Should I notify someone else in your family?"

The light in Ursula's eyes dimmed.

Her emergency contact was Thomas. He'd set it up himself, back when things were different.

As for the Abbotts—they were too busy preparing for Teresa's wedding to spare her a thought.

"They're probably just busy." Her voice was flat. "I'm sorry—have I caused you trouble?"

"Not at all." Hailey waved it off. "My work in Northport wrapped up anyway. Besides, with the Weiss family backing me, who's going to give me grief?"

That jogged Ursula's memory.

Hailey was the only girl among the younger generation of the Weiss family, and the beloved younger sister of Greg Weiss, CEO of Weiss Conglomerate. With that kind of backing, life had always been smooth sailing for her.

After a few more exchanges, Ursula felt the medication pulling her under again.

Once she was asleep, Hailey finally pulled out her phone.

"Ursula's awake, but something feels off. She seems really out of it—should we... do something?"

The reply from her perpetually busy brother came instantly.

"Taking tonight's flight."

...

Ursula's sleep was restless and shallow. She woke not long after and, once the doctors confirmed nothing serious was wrong, decided to check out.

Hailey volunteered to handle the discharge paperwork.

Ursula tried to protest, but Hailey cut her off with a wave.

"Don't be so formal with me. I know it's been four years, but remember—when you were saving my brother, we lived together for three months. That makes us friends, at least."

"Alright then. I won't hold back."

She had just finished changing when the door swung open and Thomas strode in.

"I heard you were sick?"

Ursula's expression soured instinctively. "What's it to you?"

Mistaking her coldness for a tantrum, Thomas paused. "Look, I didn't explain myself well the other day. Even after Teresa and I get married, it won't change anything between us. Everything can stay the same as before. So stop making a fuss, okay?"

Ursula laughed—a hollow, bitter sound that curdled into disgust.

She was making a fuss?

He was the one treating her like a complete fool.

"Thomas, I don't take out the trash. From now on, stay the hell away from me."

"What's that supposed to mean? You want to break up?"

When she moved to leave, he reached for her wrist out of habit.

That was when a furious voice cut through from the doorway.

"Ursula Abbott, what do you think you're doing?"

Odette and Teresa had arrived—no one knew when.

Without bothering to see who had grabbed whom, Odette stormed over and slapped Ursula across the face.

The crack echoed through the room. Thomas's expression went cold.

"Mrs. Matthews?"

"Stay out of this, Thomas. This girl refuses to let go. If I don't teach her a lesson today, who knows what she'll pull next."

Odette was seething. She had already warned her. And she dared to disobey?

"Ursula Abbott, have you no shame? He's your future brother-in-law! You fake being sick just to harass and seduce him—what exactly are you after?"