Living My Sister’s Life for Revenge

In the next moment, Stacy was shoved forcefully by Anna. The items she had been holding flew out of her hands, scattering to the ground with a loud clatter.

A girl quickly stepped forward to help her up. Stacy looked at the face—one she knew far too well. She had seen it countless times in photos in Pat’s room, a face she could never forget.

"Are you okay?" The girl asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Anna threw Stacy a disdainful glare, her irritation evident. But before she could say anything, the girl tightened her grip on Stacy's hand and spoke with enthusiasm.

“You’re Stacy, aren’t you? I didn’t expect to run into you here! Pat talks about you often. He mentioned that you’re an excellent pianist. I’m having a birthday party next week—would you consider performing?”

She was beautiful, elegant, and carried an air of nobility. This was clearly the kind of person Pat admired. Stacy could barely process her words. Her mind buzzed with a single, overwhelming thought: So this is the kind of woman Pat truly wants.

Before the girl could finish speaking, Stacy shoved some cash at the clerk and bolted out of the store, her panic mounting with every step.

Her sudden departure might not have mattered to others, but it set Anna on edge. Later that evening, fueled by Tara’s dramatic account of the encounter, Anna stormed into Pat’s office to confront him.

Inside, Anna’s voice rang out, sharp and accusatory. “Pat, didn’t you promise me you’d stop entertaining the idea of marrying her? You don’t even like her, so why are you still involved with her?”

Pat rubbed his temples, already frustrated. “Mom, what are you even talking about? I’m busy, and I told you not to show up here unannounced.”

Anna’s face twisted in disbelief. “Stacy was at a maternity store today, buying baby clothes! Tara said she might be pregnant. Don’t tell me you don’t know about this!”

Pat stiffened, his voice flat. “That’s impossible, Mom. There’s nothing between us anymore. Stop jumping to conclusions.”

Still skeptical, Anna pulled out her phone and shoved it toward him, showing him a photo. The moment Pat saw it, he shot to his feet, grabbing his coat without a word.

Anna followed close behind, her thoughts spinning. Judging by his reaction, it seemed clear that he had no idea about Stacy’s situation.

“Good,” Anna muttered, almost to herself. “It’s not yours. I knew it. Stacy is nothing but an ungrateful girl. She’s probably hooked up with someone else and tried to pin it on you!”

Her voice rose as she continued. “Tara’s friend saw her at the hospital several times. Imagine, a young girl pregnant out of wedlock! She’s indecent and shameless. There’s no way we can let someone like that into our Taylor family.”

Pat’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white as his anger burned hotter with every word Anna uttered. By the time they reached Stacy’s apartment—a drive that should’ve taken thirty minutes but was done in ten—his fury was barely contained.

The doorbell rang urgently. Stacy, assuming it was someone from the furniture recycling company, opened the door without hesitation. She froze when she saw Pat’s stormy expression.

Anna pushed past her, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she looked around the modest apartment.

“What’s going on?” Stacy asked, her gaze shifting warily between them.

Pat stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, noting the packed bags scattered across the floor. “Are you moving?”

Stacy gave a casual nod, confused by the tension in the air.

The anger in Pat’s expression deepened. Before Stacy could process his reaction, Anna’s sharp voice cut through the silence.

“Look at her, Pat! Stacy’s got everything planned for her shameless little adventure. She’s probably hoping some unsuspecting fool will take her in! Do you really think anyone else in Hamilton would want a girl like her? And now, pregnant on top of it all!”

Those words clicked something into place for Stacy. Anna’s behavior, the accusations—it all made sense now.

Pat’s voice was low and strained as he spoke, his emotions barely restrained. “Stacy, when did this start?”

Stacy let out a bitter laugh, finding the situation almost absurd. “I have nothing to say.”

Pat’s temper snapped. He grabbed her wrist with more force than necessary, his eyes blazing. “You’d better not let me find out who he is.”

The pain in her wrist was sharp, but Stacy remained silent, her face stoic. If he wanted to jump to conclusions, let him. She’d tried explaining herself before, but it had never mattered. He had still turned his back on her, throwing her out of the Taylor family.

So why should she explain now?