Chapter 5 - The Wedding Dinner That Exposed Everything
I expected Amber’s confession to make me feel victorious.
It didn’t.
For years, I imagined there might someday be a perfect moment when my sister admitted she was jealous of me.
In those fantasies, I was calm.
Strong.
Vindicated.
Instead, I sat across from her at our childhood dining table and felt unbearably sad.
Amber wiped her face.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yes, you should have.”
Her eyes snapped toward me.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means it may be the first completely honest thing we’ve said to each other in years.”
Mom sat down slowly.
Dad remained standing by the kitchen doorway.
Alexander’s hand rested against the back of my chair.
Amber stared at the engagement ring she had left on the table.
“I don’t know who I am without winning.”
The sentence stunned me.
“What?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”
“No.”
“Come on, Jessica.”
She looked at me.
“Growing up, everybody compared us.”
“I didn’t.”
“Everybody.”
“That wasn’t my choice.”
“I know.”
Those two words felt historic.
Amber looked toward Mom.
“You told me I was the pretty one.”
Mom flinched.
“You were a beautiful child.”
“And Jessica?”
Mom’s mouth opened.
No sound came.
Amber laughed without humor.
“Exactly.”
My throat tightened.
“I never knew that.”
Amber looked at me.
“When people said you were smart, Mom told me I was social. When Dad praised your grades, she bought me clothes.”
Mom whispered, “I was trying to keep you from feeling insecure.”
“You taught me insecurity was an emergency.”
The room went completely still.
Amber’s voice trembled.
“Every time Jessica accomplished something, you gave me something so I wouldn’t feel behind.”
Dad sat slowly.
Mom covered her mouth.
Amber continued.
“So eventually I learned that Jessica succeeding meant I was losing.”
I had spent years believing my parents simply loved Amber more.
Maybe that was partly true.
But sitting there, I saw another possibility.
They had mistaken giving Amber everything she demanded for protecting her.
And independence became the punishment for competence.
“I hated you for not needing them,” Amber said to me.
“I did need them.”
“I know that now.”
My eyes filled.
“I just stopped asking.”
Amber looked down.
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
“And they kept giving.”
Mom began crying.
“I thought I was helping both of you.”
I turned toward her.
“How were you helping me?”
She couldn’t answer.
That silence was answer enough.
The next morning brought consequences none of us expected.
Trevor’s employer called him into an internal ethics meeting.
By noon, his commercial proposal had been withdrawn.
By three, Amber called me.
I almost didn’t answer.
Then I did.
“Hello?”
“Trevor says Alexander destroyed him.”
I closed my eyes.
“Amber.”
“I’m asking.”
Her tone was different.
Not accusatory.
Afraid.
“Did Alexander get him fired?”
“He wasn’t fired.”
“Yet.”
“Alexander’s company reported inaccurate statements in a commercial proposal. Prescott decides what happens to Trevor.”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “He says if I don’t convince Alexander to withdraw the complaint, he’ll sue all of us.”
“Did you tell him no?”
Another silence.
“Amber?”
“He came to my condo.”
I stood.
“Is he there now?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted the ring back.”
I almost laughed.
“He gave you the ring.”
“He says technically he bought it with a company bonus he hadn’t received yet.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I know.”
She began crying.
Then said something I never expected.
“Can I come over?”
Two hours later, my sister sat in Alexander’s kitchen wearing sweatpants and one of Dad’s old Arizona State sweatshirts.
No makeup.
Hair tied badly.
She looked younger.
Smaller.
Almost like the girl I remembered before everything became competition.
Alexander gave us privacy.
Amber stared around the kitchen.
“This is insane.”
“What?”
“This house.”
I smiled faintly.
“That chandelier is too big.”
She looked upward.
“It is.”
“I told him.”
“I heard that.”
Alexander’s voice came from the hallway.
For the first time in days, Amber laughed.
Then she immediately looked guilty.
I poured coffee.
She wrapped both hands around the mug.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About Alexander?”
“Yes.”
I sat opposite her.
“Because I knew exactly how you’d react.”
She swallowed.
“You thought I’d be jealous.”
“I knew you would.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It is.”
She stared into her coffee.
“Was he already rich when you met?”
I laughed.
“Very.”
“And you still worked?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
I hesitated.
“That question is part of our problem.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“I don’t understand.”
“You think being taken care of means someone else paying.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
I touched my ring.
“Alexander takes care of me by respecting what matters to me.”
I told her about the night I almost ended our relationship.
We had been dating four months.
My apartment’s air conditioner died in July.
Alexander immediately arranged for a contractor to replace the entire unit.
I got furious.
Amber stared at me.
“You got angry because he fixed your air conditioner?”
“It was my landlord’s responsibility.”
“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Probably.”
“So what happened?”
“He canceled the contractor.”
“He did?”
“Yes. Then he brought over two portable fans and sat on my kitchen floor eating takeout with me while I argued with the landlord.”
Amber smiled despite herself.
“He didn’t just buy the building?”
“He offered.”
She laughed.
I did too.
Then her expression became serious.
“Trevor would have bought the building so he could remind me forever.”
There it was.
The difference.
Amber looked toward the windows.
“I think I knew he didn’t love me.”
“Why did you say yes?”
“Because everybody was excited.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“I know.”
She rubbed her palms together.
“And because I thought marrying someone successful meant I won.”
I let the sentence sit between us.
“Won against who?”
She looked at me.
“You.”
It still hurt.
But she didn’t hide.
So I didn’t either.
“I never entered the competition.”
“I know.”
My phone rang.
Natalie.
My boss rarely called after six.
I answered.
“Hey.”
“Jessica, are you sitting down?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
“Prescott Commercial called.”
“About Trevor?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They discovered something.”
Amber watched my face.
Natalie continued.
“Trevor wasn’t only using your connection to Mercer.”
“What else?”
“He was using Boyd Creative documents.”
I went cold.
“What documents?”
“Internal presentation materials. Early Mercer campaign data. Budget projections.”
I stood.
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
Only employees had access.
Then I remembered family dinner three months earlier.
I had brought my work bag.
Trevor had asked to borrow my laptop charger.
He’d disappeared into Dad’s office for nearly twenty minutes.
My laptop had been in the bag.
Unlocked.
I looked at Amber.
She saw my expression.
“What?”
Natalie said, “Jessica, security traced one of the files.”
“How?”
“It was forwarded from your personal email.”
My heart stopped.
“I never sent it.”
“I believe you.”
“When?”
She gave me the date.
I remembered exactly where I had been.
In my parents’ kitchen.
Helping Mom carry dishes.
Trevor had been in the next room.
My stomach turned.
“He accessed my laptop.”
Amber stood.
“What happened?”
I put Natalie on speaker.
When she explained, Amber went completely pale.
Then she whispered, “I gave him your password.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“Months ago. He asked because he wanted pictures from Dad’s birthday. You’d sent me a folder link and I couldn’t remember the login. I told him the password you always used.”
I felt like the floor dropped beneath me.
“That password was for an old photo account.”
“I know.”
“I reused part of it.”
“I didn’t know.”
Anger rose.
Hot.
Immediate.
“You gave someone my password?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Amber!”
“I didn’t know he would—”
“That does not matter!”
She flinched.
I stopped.
Not because she didn’t deserve my anger.
Because I suddenly saw the difference between accountability and cruelty.
I breathed.
“You made a serious mistake.”
“Yes.”
“You need to tell the truth.”
Her face went white.
“To who?”
“Everyone investigating him.”
Fear flooded her expression.
“If I admit I gave him the password, could I get in trouble?”
“Maybe.”
Her eyes filled.
The old Amber would have lied.
Blamed Trevor.
Blamed me.
Blamed anybody.
This Amber stared at the floor for a long time.
Then lifted her head.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll tell them.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
A tear slid down her face.
“But I’m going to.”
That night, Amber gave a formal statement to Boyd Creative’s attorney and Prescott’s investigators.
She admitted everything.
The password.
Trevor’s questions.
The conversations about Alexander.
Her own role in repeating information she shouldn’t have.
She didn’t make excuses.
When it was finished, she sat in Alexander’s guest room shaking.
“I may have ruined my life.”
I sat beside her.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“You finally stopped letting other people decide what your life has to be.”
Her chin trembled.
“Is that what you did?”
“Eventually.”
She leaned against me.
It was the first time my sister had rested her head on my shoulder since we were children.
Then my phone rang again.
Dad.
I answered.
His voice sounded strange.
“Jessica, you and Amber need to come home.”
“What happened?”
“It’s your mother.”
My heart stopped.
“Is she okay?”
“She found something in Trevor’s things.”
“What?”
Dad took a breath.
“Your wedding.”
I went still.
“What about it?”
“He knew before Amber proposed.”
The room seemed to tilt.
May you like
And suddenly we understood that Trevor’s manipulation had started far earlier than any of us realized.
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