Living My Sister’s Life for Revenge

Under the light, his eyes held a hint of regret as he gently touched the blood-stained strings.

"This violin is old. I'll have someone replace it for you," he said softly.

In the past, Stacy would have expressed her gratitude with many words. But now, she realized she wasn’t even as important as the violin. All her years of admiration had been nothing but wishful thinking.

A violin could be replaced if it was old or damaged, but what about a person?

Breaking the silence, Tara spoke in a sweet, teasing tone, “Yes, Stacy, good skills deserve a good violin. You didn’t play as beautifully today—it must be because the violin is broken.”

Stacy swallowed back her tears and carefully packed the violin. “There’s no need...”

He reached out and held her hand, his expression questioning.

“I can buy one myself,” Stacy added quietly.

She wasn’t lying. Macey had left her a significant amount of money, and with the funds from the Strong Foundation Project in the future, she could easily afford many violins.

Anna suddenly laughed, her voice mocking. “You? Buy one yourself? With that lousy construction job, how much could you possibly earn? In the end, it’s still Pat who supports you.”

“Mom!” Pat’s tone was sharp, clearly displeased. He couldn’t stand anyone bringing up Stacy’s so-called menial job—it embarrassed him deeply.

Stacy wanted to speak up. Since leaving the Taylor family home, she hadn’t used any of Pat’s money. He had given her jewelry and gifts, but she’d never used them. She earned her own income by doing freelance design work, modeling for sketches, and creating drafts. But compared to Pat’s prestigious job, her work seemed insignificant and wasn’t worth mentioning.

Without another word, Pat went upstairs, his frustration evident. Anna, seeing her son’s reaction, shot Stacy a glare filled with disdain.

It was clear this house had no place for her anymore.

Stacy lost her appetite. Grabbing her bag, she left, deliberately leaving the violin behind. That was the moment she decided she was done. From then on, she considered her debt to Pat fully repaid.

Later, as she waited at the bus stop after leaving the hospital, Tara appeared, wheeling herself out. There was no one behind her, and her fragile demeanor vanished as she stopped pretending. Moving leisurely toward the curb, she finally spoke.

“Stacy,” she said, her voice casual as she admired her perfectly manicured nails, “I heard from my aunt that you’re trying to marry into the Taylor family. Is that true?”

Tara’s posture was relaxed, her tone almost amused. “You should know Pat will never marry you. He’s set on the eldest daughter of the Wiley family—someone far above your status. So stop clinging to him like a desperate snake.”

She smirked and added cruelly, “If you’re interested, I can ask my aunt to introduce you to some wealthy men. With your looks and skills, you’d make a fine mistress.”

Stacy let out a cold laugh, unfazed by Tara’s venom. She glanced at the wheelchair and smirked. “Tara, you’re truly pathetic. To gain sympathy, you’re pretending to be disabled even though you’re clearly cured.”

If Stacy hadn’t caught Tara standing up the other day, she might never have discovered the truth. But Tara showed no fear, her expression composed as ever, her smile unwavering.

Stacy almost admired her audacity—Tara lied as effortlessly as breathing.

“Tara!”

Pat’s voice interrupted them. He emerged from the house, carrying a blanket. Approaching Tara, he draped it over her legs with care.

Tara tilted her face upward, biting her lip as her fingers lightly tugged at the corner of his coat. “Pat, you’re here. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault Stacy played the violin and ruined everyone’s mood at dinner. She seemed unhappy.”

Pat’s eyes shifted toward Stacy, his expression unreadable. She knew what he was thinking, but she didn’t care. Without a word, she turned away, unwilling to look at them any longer.

The snow was falling heavily now. The cold bit on her skin, the road was slick with ice, and the bus was late. Stacy’s legs felt stiff as she stood waiting in the freezing wind.

She assumed they had left when she no longer heard any noise behind her. But then, a voice broke the silence.

“Stacy, Tara is still young, straightforward, and a little immature. You’re always so understanding—”