Amara's POV
"That barren bitch is definitely calling me for something about Mom," I muttered under my breath. Multiple scenarios raced through my mind, trying to figure out why Grace would dare contact me again after I'd literally beaten her down.
"Maybe Mom's looking for me and putting pressure on my pathetic sister to reach out?" The thought made me smirk with satisfaction. "Of course that's it. Mom must be worried sick about me. She always is—after all, I'm her precious favorite child."
The idea of Grace's wounded pride filled me with pure delight.
——
"What do you want, Sis? Need something?" I asked, my voice dripping with mockery.
"Amara, I—" Grace's voice wavered, sounding completely defeated. The sound sent waves of joy straight through me.
My sister could fight back all she wanted, but as long as Mom still considered me the golden child, her struggles meant absolutely nothing.
"Spit it out, Sis. Did Mom call because she's missing me?"
...
"Amara, I need your help."
