Chapter 9

Chapter 9

SARA POINT OF VIEW

I sat beside Maxmillan in the car, the look on Eva's face when she saw me with Max was the most beautiful sight and it meant that i am victorious. Causing her pain and suffering is my life purpose.

I've always felt overshadowed by my sister Eva. I’ve always hated her.

I hate how easily everything comes to Eva. I hate how she can walk into a room, and everyone’s attention immediately shifts to her, how people seem to draw toward her like she’s some kind of magnet for adoration. No matter where we went, who we were with, she was always the center of everything, the one people noticed first.

Even our dad, who's usually as cold as an ice cube, manages to crack a smile when Eva's around. Me? I might as well be invisible and forgotten, I had always thought that i will be my father's little princess after he brought my mother and i to live in his house after the death of Eva's mother but no, i was wrong because he never looked my way neither did he even get married to my mother, my mother is just a mistress to my father because he couldn't bear to hurt Eva.

I can’t even remember when it started the resentment, the jealousy. Maybe it was the first time I realized people liked her more than they liked me. Maybe it was the way our teachers and school mates praised her, talking about how sweet and kind and smart she was, while I sat there, invisible, forgotten, overlooked, left in her shadow. Or maybe it was the way the workers at home always whispered about her, admiring her like she was some kind of princess.

“Eva’s such a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

“She’s going to make someone very happy one day.”

“She’s so polite, so generous.”

It was always her, Always Eva. And I was just… Sara. The other one. The one who was never good enough, never quite as special.

And then there was Max

Maximilian Graves. The man I’ve wanted since the moment I laid eyes on him. He was mine, or at least, he was supposed to be. I thought he loved me. I thought he wanted me. But even that was a lie.

He wasn’t mine. He was hers.

It was Eva he wanted, not me. He loved her. He still loves her, even though he doesn’t want to admit it, even though he’s too proud to say it out loud. I can see it in the way he looks at her, even now, after everything that’s happened. He may be cruel to her, may treat her like she’s nothing, but deep down, I know the truth.

And I hate her for it.

I hate her for having everything I’ve ever wanted. For being the one everyone loves, the one everyone protects. Even when she’s hurting, even when she’s humiliated, they still flock to her. They still care about her.

No one has ever cared about me like that and to crown it all the wealth that i have been enjoying belongs to her, everything was handed over to her by her mother. Her mother almost all of the Brown's wealth and Eva is her next of kin and my father put Eva's name as his sole heiress.

I remember the day it all became clear. The day I realized just how much I despised her.

We were teenagers, both of us just starting to understand the world and our place in it. I’d worked so hard to win our father’s approval, to be the daughter he could be proud of. But no matter what I did, it was never enough. I wasn’t enough.

And then there was Eva, sweet, perfect, beloved Eva, who didn’t have to try at all. She just existed, and people loved her. It didn’t matter what she did. She could have done anything, and they would have worshipped her for it. It was infuriating, watching her walk through life with that effortless charm, like everything was handed to her on a silver platter.

I worked so hard to be seen, to be acknowledged. But all I ever heard was, “Why can’t you be more like your sister?”

Those words stuck with me and haunted me. They’ve followed me for years, ringing in my mind, reminding me of everything I’ll never be. Everything I’ll never have.

But I wasn’t going to let her win. Not anymore.

So, I did what I had to do. I turned people against her, little by little, chipping away at her perfect world. Our father was the first. It wasn’t hard, he was already cold, already distant. All I had to do was plant a few seeds of doubt, whisper a few carefully chosen words. “Eva doesn’t really care about the family business, you know. She’s always daydreaming, always thinking about other things. She’s not like us, Father. She’s not strong like we are.”

And it worked. Slowly but surely, I started to tear her down, to make her look weak in his eyes. It was satisfying, watching the way his disappointment in her grew, the way he began to doubt her, question her loyalty. For once, I was the one he listened to. I was the one he trusted.

But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to destroy her completely.

That’s where Max came in.

I knew he loved her. Even if he didn’t say it, even if he didn’t act like it, I could see it. I could feel it. And it made my blood boil.

He was supposed to be mine. He should have been mine. But Eva perfect Eva had somehow stolen him from me without even trying.

So, I made it my mission to take him back.

It wasn’t hard to turn Max against her. He was already angry, already frustrated with the marriage. All I had to do was ignite the fire, make him believe that she didn’t love him, that she was using him, manipulating him. I whispered in his ear, just like I did with our father. “Eva doesn’t care about you, Max. She’s only with you because of your grandfather. She doesn’t love you. She’s not capable of loving anyone.”

He wanted to believe it. He needed to believe it, because the alternative admitting that he still had feelings for her was too painful for him. So, he held onto my words, let them sink in, let them fester.

And now, he hates her. Just like I do.

But even with all of that turning our father, turning Max it still wasn’t enough. Because no matter what I did, no matter how much I tried to break her, Eva still had that glimmer of hope in her eyes. She still had that strength, that unshakable belief that things could get better, that someone would come to her rescue.

And that’s what I hated the most.

Because no one ever came to my rescue..

I was always alone. I’ve had to fight for everything I have, had to walk my way through life, scraping and struggling just to get by. But not Eva. She was always surrounded by people who adored her, who supported her, who loved her.

It's just not fair to me

I remember that day so clearly the day Max fell from the bridge.

We were teenagers, both of us at the edge of adolescence, and Max had always been so full of life, so reckless. I watched from a distance as he leaned too far over, laughing as he teased the rest of us. Then, in a single horrifying second, he slipped.

I froze. I should have done something, should have screamed for help, but I didn’t. It was Eva who jumped into action, diving into the freezing water after him. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t think twice. She just acted.

And I hated her for it.

I should’ve been the one to save him. I should’ve been the one to be his hero. But it was Eva, again, who had done the impossible, the one everyone turned to with praise and admiration. And as I watched her pull him to safety, something in me snapped.

I couldn’t let her win. Not this time.

So, I lied.

When the story spread, I told everyone I was the one who had saved him. I made it seem like I had been the one who jumped in, the one who pulled him from the water. I spun the tale so perfectly that even Max believed it. I watched the confusion in Eva’s eyes as the world around us embraced *me* as the hero. And she said nothing.

She could have defended herself, could have exposed me, but she didn’t. And I know why. It wasn’t because she was too kind or too afraid of conflict. No. It was because I threatened her.

I still remember the look on her face when I held that necklace the one thing her mother had left her. “If you say a word,” I’d warned her, my fingers tightening around the delicate chain, “I’ll destroy this. You’ll never see it again.”

She had always been too sentimental, too attached to that piece of jewelry. So, she let me have my victory. She let Max believe that she had left him to die.

And that’s when I knew I had power over her. She was willing to sacrifice her truth, her pride, just to hold onto the memory of her dead mother. That weakness became my weapon, and I used it every chance I got.

But even after all of that, it still wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how much I tried to tear her down, Eva always had that glimmer of hope in her eyes. That light that told me she believed things would get better. And I hated her for it.

Maybe that’s why I’ll never stop. Because I know, deep down, that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never have what she has.

Hope.

And maybe, just maybe,

if I can destroy her, I’ll finally feel something other than this endless, suffocating emptiness inside.