Chapter 1

BETRAYED.

JOAN.

I hurry across the busy streets, my feet tapping with excitement as I hurry over to George's apartment.

My boyfriend.

I had just gotten a coffee and bagel from one of my favorite bakeries and was informed that he had stopped by to get a cake.

Today is my birthday and I bet he just has a surprise waiting for me.

I cross the road, narrowly escaping the collision with a car whose owner violently honks at me.

“Sorry!” I shout back with a wave as I continue on my way.

Still, on the streets, I hear my phone ring, bringing me out of the clouds my head is stuck in and see the caller ID, “she-devil”

It is Vivian, my stepmother.

Instantly, every trace of a good mood vanishes.

I am sorely tempted to ignore the call but knowing her, she would only keep at it until I pick up, the irritating woman.

“Hello, Vivian.”

“Joan! Why didn't you pick up your calls? I was worried and how many times do I have to tell you to call me mother.”

“You must be with guests,” I remark with a bland tone. “That is the only time you get in with this doting mother nonsense. What do you want?”

“You are coming for dinner tonight right-”

“No, I am not. And I am not interested in whatever game you are playing now.”

“I know you must be busy, but we will be so excited to see you. Your dd was just telling me the other day about how you don't call or visit, I

Am sure he will be expecting you.

Translation: be there orFatherr will make it hell for me.

Like I needed that.

“Fine. Whatever,” I reply.

“Good. Wear the-”

I don't wait to hear whatever nonsense she has to say, I cut off the call.

In public, Vivian is a saint. The dear woman who forgave her husband’s adultery and accepted the child into her home, treating her as a daughter.

In private, she makes it her mission to cause me pain and anguish. Relishing in my misery and abusing the fact that I have no one to turn to after my mother's death.

But that is for later, now, I am heading to my boyfriend who for at least a few hours will take my mind off the horror show that is my life.

Soon, I arrive at the apartment complex and let myself in.

“Good afternoon, Carlos,” I greet the security guard who waves at me in return.

I am too excited to wait for the elevators and as such, decide to take the stairs and soon I am standing in front of his door.

Letting myself in quietly so as not to alert him, I walk towards the study which is the first door after the entrance, and find it empty.

“Hmm, that is odd.”

At this time of the day, you can always bet that he would be at his desk, working.

“George,” I call out as I exit the room only to hear a sound from deep in the apartment.

I walk deeper into it and I hear the distinct sound of a woman’s giggle, coming from his room.

His bedroom.

Slowly, like I am in a dream, I walk towards the food, everything going slowly out of focus and only the door remaining in sharp relief.

I hear his answering murmur before another peal of laughter cuts through the air.

The laughter…

I recognize that laugh.

But no it can't be.

George won't do that to me.

He knows my family situation, knows how I have been treated, he wouldn't…

He would.

He did.

He is still doing it.

I stare in shock as I stand at the doorway, looking in at the two people in the bed, laughing and exchanging kisses and a partly eaten cake on the dresser.

George and my half-sister, Mira.

This has to be a joke.

“George…” my voice breaks at the end, the disbelief still crashing in on me.

At my voice, he instantly springs away from Mira, shock and panic on his face.

“Joan!” he exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” I ask in disbelief, letting out a short scornful laugh. “What am I doing here?! Me?! What are you doing?! With Mir, nonetheless, Mira!”

“Hey!” the witch in question snaps. “Don't short my name like that, you uncultured swine.”

“You shut the hell up, homewrecker!”I snap back

“You would know, after all, your mom is also a homewrecker.”

A lance of pain goes through my heart at that dig. Yes, everyone attacks my mother for sleeping with a married man, ridiculing her, and dragging her name through the mud.

No one blames the man who went out of his marriage to find a gullible girl to deceive.

No one wants to admit that my father is the architect of this mess, not even him himself.

Ignoring her, I turn back to George watching dispassionately as he hurries to dress up.

“Bane,” he says. “I can explain.”

“I am sure you can, but I don't want to hear it. Just answer my questions, how long has this been going on?”

“Babe-”

“Answer the bloody question!” I scream at him.

“Three years,” Mira’s voice sounds. I turn around to see her slipping into her gown before she notices my gaze. “And a few months,” she adds. “Not too long after you two started dating actually.”

“You bitch!” I gasp in pain.

“Maybe, but you are a gullible fool. Do you honestly think anyone would want you when I am standing there? You were just a means to an end. It is me he wants, not you.”

I turn to Georg, willing him to deny it. To say it's not true.

That she is spouting lies and trying to hurt me.

But then I notice the helpless way he looks at her, he is unwilling to contradict her.

Because he doesn't want to lose her.

Me on the other hand…

“Did you ever love me?” I ask quietly, brokenly.

“Oh wow,” Mira exclaims before picking up her bag. “I am going to leave you two now, so you can settle whatever this is.”

And with that, she walks out of the room, and for a few seconds, there is just silence until we hear the door lock.

“Joan…”

“Did you?” I demand.

“I… I cared about you-”

“You cared about me,” I repeat with a broken laugh, completely stunned at what he is saying.

About what is happening.

I look at him, taking my time to see him and I am disappointed in myself.

U should have seen the signs.

Despite all my complaints about my family, he always asked about Mira. Always telling me to make peace. Always trying to get invited to the house.

It was never about me.

It was always about her.

“Last question,” I say as I glance down at her trampled cake on the floor, red frosting stating the carpet “What is today?” I ask quietly.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Today’s date. What is it?”

“Um… the seventh of March?”

I stare at him, trying to see if it registers but it doesn't.

Never about me.

“Thank you,” I tell him and without a backward glance, I leave his room and head to the door.

“Joan? Joan!” he calls as she rushes after me, his hands reaching for me.

“Touch me, and I will break your fingers,” I snarl, causing him to halt in his steps.

As I reach the foyer, I turn back to look at him, throwing the key he had given me all those months ago. “I wouldn't be needing this anymore and I suggest you delete my number, I would do the same with yours.”

God willing, I will never see him again.