A Farewell Gift of Death

Before long, the banquet hall was fully set up. The dining table was covered with salmon—Esme's favorite—and the cake bore her name in delicate icing.

Just as Dad had said, the entire celebration was meant for her. There was no trace of my name anywhere.

"Mom, maybe we should order another cake. What if the guests talk behind our backs?" Esme clung to Mom's arm, her voice syrupy sweet.

"No need. Given her personality, what kind of friends could she possibly have? She's failed at her career, and she's never had a real friend in her life."

Mom patted Esme's hand, soothing her. "Think about how she has treated you all these years. You can't be too kind, or you'll just end up being taken advantage of."

How did I treat her? From the time we were little, she took everything from me, and I never once refused. I gave her everything willingly.

I used to feel lucky just to have a sister, so I would let her have her way again and again. But the more I gave in, the bolder she became.

On her graduation day, the project I made for her won her an international award.

I didn't think much of it then, as it had been one of my simplest works. But afterward, once she tasted success, she began stealing everything I'd created.

If I refused, she would have someone beat me up. And whenever I begged for help, not a single person believed me.

They all said I was just jealous of her so-called talent and that I had gone mad with envy.

That was when I finally understood. What I had lost wasn't a trophy. It was the love of my parents and the trust of my husband. To them, Esme was a genius. I was nothing but her shadow.

The memory of that scene made me turn away, unwilling to look at them ever again.

But Esme wasn't done. She stomped her foot in a show of concern. "Mom, keep your voice down! What if Claudia hears you?"

"Hmph! I don't care. If she shows up, I'll say it to her face." Mom's eyes held nothing but disdain. There was not a trace of love left for me.

And so I stood there in silence, quietly listening to them talk about me.

Time ticked on, the start of the banquet drawing near. Esme returned to her room to get dressed.

Edwin frowned at his phone, searched the villa again, but still didn't see me. "Rebecca, Thomas, I'll be right back. I need to pick something up."

Before heading out, he sent me another message, "Stop sulking. It's just a dress. I'll buy you one. Come back quickly. The party's about to start."

Watching him rush away, I felt nothing at all.

If he knew that the wife he was desperately searching for was right beneath his feet, swarmed by flies, what would his reaction be?

I sighed and let the thought go. My gaze fell on the stack of boxes in the corner. I wondered how they would look when they finally opened them.

Moments later, Esme came twirling out of her room, holding up her gown with delight. "Mom, where did Edwin go?"

Mom sighed. "He's probably looking for Claudia. He's too kind-hearted for his own good. If you ask me, he's such a perfect son-in-law, and you're the only one worthy of him."

At that, Esme's smile faltered, her eyes flashing with malice before she hurried back into her room.

Before long, Edwin returned with a dress, his forehead slick with sweat.

Just as he reached for his phone again, a piercing scream erupted from Esme's room. "My designs! Who ripped up my designs?"