At first, Paul impatiently ordered the butler to send her away. But he couldn't sit still. He kept glancing at the storm outside, his leg bouncing.
The butler reported that Anna had collapsed. Paul bolted from his chair, rushed into the downpour, and scooped her into his arms.
I watched, frozen. The cake slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor.
That was when I understood: his heart had already strayed. That was the beginning of our end.
In the car, Paul loosened his tie with an irritated jerk and switched on the stereo. Soft music filled the silence, doing nothing to ease the tension.
I stared at my reflection in the window. Anna's taunt echoed in my mind: "Everything you have, I want to take it all away!"
A bitter smile touched my lips. She'd succeeded.
From that rainy day onward, the rift between us only widened. Arguments replaced whispers of love. At first, Paul still tried to reason with me.
"She's your sister, Serena."
"I'm only kind to her because I care about you."
But when I snapped and smashed a gift he'd given me, his face darkened. The excuses stopped. Accusations took their place.
"Serena Whitmore, how can you be so vile?"
"Annie is frail—why can't you just yield to her?"