We all know that scene—the red heels, kicked aside as if removed in a hurry. In movies and in series, they always signal the same thing: Do not step inside; it might break you.
And yet… there I was.
I froze at the doorway. My heart slammed in my chest, my throat was tight, and my hands were trembling. Because even knowing the warning, even feeling the dread coil around my stomach, I never thought the world could hurt this much.
Those shoes… those damned shoes… I have seen it somewhere. My heart stumbled. No. It couldn't be. Not her.
My sister's.
A chill crept up my spine as I stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath me, every sound deafening in the silence. When I pushed the bedroom door open, just enough to see inside—the air left my lungs.
There she was.
My little sister Elara. My sweet, spoiled, beloved sister—her hair a mess, her laughter soft and careless.
And beside her…was him.
Alex.
My Alex.
The man I'd loved for years. The one who once swore he couldn't live a single day without me. The one who promised to hold my hand through every storm.
I just stood there, frozen, peeking through the small gap in the door, wide-eyed and trembling. They didn't see me yet. Didn't notice the way my chest tightened, my stomach dropped, and the sick, twisting nausea clawed its way up my throat.
I should've turned away. I should've run. But my legs refused to move.
Alex's hand was tangled in hers. His laugh—the same one that once melted me—now felt like a knife twisting between my ribs. My mind kept replaying his words, those soft whispers I used to believe in.
You're the only one for me. I'll never hurt you. I love you.
Lies. All of it.
My sister—my own sister—smiled up at him like she hadn't just stolen the air from my lungs. Like she hadn't shattered me beyond repair. And for a fleeting, agonizing second, I almost envied her.
Because she could still laugh. And I… couldn't even breathe.
My world didn't shatter with thunder or flames. It ended quietly. With the sound of their laughter bleeding through the half-open door, and my heart breaking without a sound.
I wanted to scream. To throw something. To make them see me. But instead, I just stood there—silent, shaking, and empty.
Betrayed.
And for the first time in my life, I realized that pain doesn't always roar. Sometimes… it just whispers.
A soft, familiar voice slithered through the room—cold, deliberate. "Hurry up, Alex… she might be on her way."
My chest froze. Alex's voice was calm, almost amused: "Didn't you lock the door? She won't just walk in."
And then… my blood ran cold. Elara's eyes flicked toward me, just for a moment, and a smile curved her lips—that smile.
"Oh… I locked it. But maybe I wanted her to see."
She leaned back, perfectly composed, as if she were watching some play unfold, her gaze lingering on me like a predator savoring its prey.
My hands trembled. She had left the door intentionally open. Deliberately. Just so I could watch.
The betrayal wasn't just physical. It was theatrical. Personal. Malicious.
And in that moment, I understood something horrifying: Elara wasn't careless. She wasn't caught up in a moment of passion; she wanted me to see all this.
Elara was just a year younger than me. We even shared the same birthday, so people often called us… Twins.
Mom and Dad brought us everything the same—matching dresses, matching shoes, and matching toys when we were little. The same friends, the same rooms, even the same desserts when we fought over birthdays. And I never complained. I loved her. I protected her. I thought we were inseparable.
But sharing a boyfriend? That wasn't sisterhood.
That thought hit harder than any slap, any betrayal, any scream. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't passion or weakness. It was calculated. She had taken everything—my love, my trust, my Alex—and tossed them aside like they were hers to claim.
I could feel my chest tighten, my lungs shrinking under the weight of disbelief. Every memory of laughter, of sisterly whispers, of birthday cakes and shared secrets, now tasted like ash.
And the worst part?She knew how much it would hurt me.
"Li…Liana?" Elara's voice came out sweet and innocent, but my stomach turned at the fake softness. Her eyes widened, perfectly timed—as if she'd just noticed me.
Alex stumbled back from the bed, panic flaring in his eyes. "Liana… it's not what it looks like! I can explain!"
Ah yes. The same line every cheater utters. Predictable. Pathetic.
I stared at them. Cold. Dead eyes. No tears. No anger. Just… betrayal. And then I turned on my heels.
"Liana… wait! Please… listen to me," Alex pleaded, grabbing my hand, his grip desperate.
I yanked it away, my voice low, sharp, and cutting: "Come with an excuse after you put on your clothes, Alex. It's pathetic."
Elara's fake smile faltered, just a flicker, and Alex's face went pale. But I didn't care. I stepped out of that room, my heart splintered, my world crumbling, each step heavier than the last.
The echo of their laughter—the betrayal of everything I had loved—followed me down the hallway. And in that moment, I realized something terrifying: some wounds don't heal.
They follow you.Everywhere.
I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know how I was moving. I… was just walking.
Bumping into people, ignoring their startled looks, letting my body carry me wherever it wanted. My legs felt like lead. My chest felt like it was stuffed with broken glass.
I always put my sister first. Always. Every laugh, every secret, every sacrifice—I gave my heart fully to her, to Alex… and this is what I got? Betrayal. Complete, soul-shattering betrayal.
My phone buzzed. Again.
I didn't even need to look.
It was him.
Alex.
Of course. He couldn't leave it alone. Couldn't let me feel what I needed to feel in peace. Couldn't let me exist outside of his mess.
I ignored it. I walked faster, head down, trying to shut out the sound of his name flashing across my screen.But it kept buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing.
The guilt. The excuses. The pleas. They all screamed through the tiny device in my hand, and for a second, I thought my chest would cave in.
I didn't even notice the tears anymore. Until the phone buzzed again—shattering the silence I'd built around myself. I paused, muttering under my breath, "Alright… let's end this now."
I looked at the screen and It was Dad. Ten missed calls. All from him. My stomach twisted. Something felt… wrong.
I frowned, trembling. "Did something happen?"
I picked up and..."Liana… thank God, you picked up." Dad's voice was hurried, tense, almost… panicked.
"Dad… what happened?" I asked, my pulse racing.
"Please… come home. Fast. It's… it's urgent."
And then—BEEP! BEEP!
Deadline. My chest froze. The dread that had been coiled in my stomach since that morning now spiraled, gnawing at me.
Something had happened. Something serious.
I didn't even wait to think. I called a cab, my hands shaking, and sank into the back seat. My mind raced with every possibility—accident, emergency, disaster.
***
[Verrettis House—Later]
The cab screeched to a halt in front of our house. My hands were trembling so badly, I almost dropped my bag. I didn't even notice the familiar façade of our home. Nothing looked real anymore.
I burst through the front door, chest heaving, expecting Dad to explain, to hug me… to do something. But the living room was cold. Too quiet.
Mom stood stiffly by the sofa, her face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. Dad was beside her, jaw tight, eyes darting to me like… like I was fragile glass. And standing behind them… Elara. But I ignored her.
I strode toward Dad, voice steady despite the storm roaring inside me: "Dad? What happened? Are you okay?"
He avoided my gaze, voice trembling: "Liana… take a seat."
My stomach lurched. Something was very, very wrong. I sat down, forcing calm into my voice. "Dad… what happened? Please… tell me."
He swallowed hard, eyes dark. "My dear… you know how much our company has been losing?"
I nodded, heart sinking. "Yes, Dad, I know."
Two years ago, a bad investment had almost bankrupted him. But he had managed to stabilize things. Despite heavy losses, we had survived.
"Our company… is still running, Liana. But… the debt—the loan I took… I have only three months to repay it all."
I forced a small smile, trying to reassure him. "It's okay, Dad… we can negotiate with the bank. Once I find a job, we can—"
He cut me off, voice sharper now: "I didn't take a loan from the bank, my dear."
"What… then how…?"
He met my eyes, grim. "I borrowed from the Romano family."
. . .
. . .
I trembled. "What? Dad… you know Romano is—"
"I know," he interrupted. "But I had no choice back then. And now… if I don't repay, he'll make sure we end up on the streets… starving, penniless."
The room spun around me.
"So… in desperation, I… I offered him something."
I furrowed my brows. "What… something?"
His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with guilt: "You. Liana. I offered him… you."
My world shattered. My chest felt hollow. My heart… crushed into a thousand jagged pieces and he continued, "I… I had no choice but to… sell you to Mr. Romano, Liana."
I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare, numb, as my life—my freedom—crumbled around me.