Only Me to Count On

I lay in bed with my eyes closed, pretending to sleep as voices drifted through the hallway. My mother's voice was hushed but clear, the way it always was when she thought no one was listening.

"Harper's wedding dress is designer-made and practically brand new," she said, her tone practical, as if discussing a hand-me-down sweater rather than a $15,000 Vera Wang gown. "It would fit Serena perfectly with just a few alterations."

My stepfather Richard's deep voice rumbled in agreement. "And the venue deposit is non-refundable anyway. Might as well let Serena use it for her wedding."

My fingers clenched the sheets, but I forced myself to keep breathing evenly. They were discussing my wedding—my canceled, abandoned wedding—like it was nothing more than a business transaction that needed restructuring.

"Harper was never really suitable for Nathan anyway," my mother continued, her voice dropping lower. "She's... ordinary. Serena is the one who deserves to be with the Prescott heir."

"Margaret, you're right as always," Richard agreed. "Serena has the Sterling spark. Harper's just... well, she's just Harper."

I turned my face into the pillow to muffle any sound that might escape. The Sterling spark. As if I hadn't been part of this family for fifteen years. As if I hadn't tried desperately to earn their love, their approval, their basic acknowledgment as something more than the girl who wasn't Serena.

When their footsteps faded, I sat up and wiped my face. No tears. I was done crying over people who would never see me.

With mechanical precision, I pulled my suitcase from the closet and began packing. Clothes, toiletries, the few personal items that actually belonged to me rather than being borrowed from Serena's old room. Each item I selected felt like a declaration of independence.

The door swung open without a knock. My mother stood in the doorway, her elegant silhouette framed by the hallway light. She blinked when she saw the open suitcase on my bed.

"Harper, where are you going?" Her voice held a note of surprise that quickly morphed into understanding. "Oh, you're running away because of the wedding? Don't be dramatic."

I continued folding a sweater, refusing to look at her. "I'm moving out for a while."

She visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping as if a weight had been lifted. "Well, that's actually convenient timing."

I paused, my hands hovering over the cashmere. "Convenient?"

"Yes." She stepped into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "Before you go, we'll need your wedding dress. And your grandmother's pearl necklace—Serena will need to borrow those for her wedding."

The casual cruelty of her words stole my breath. Borrow. As if this was about sharing a sweater between sisters rather than stealing the most important day of my life.

"Those pearls were my grandmother's," I said quietly.

"And they'll look lovely on Serena." My mother waved her hand dismissively. "She's marrying into the Prescott family, Harper. Those pearls belong on someone worthy of them."

I zipped the suitcase closed with finality and picked it up. "I'll leave them on my dresser."

As I headed toward the door, Derek appeared in the hallway, his broad shoulders blocking my path. His handsome face was twisted in disapproval.

"So you're just going to throw a tantrum and leave?" he demanded. "Serena's in the hospital with exhaustion from her flight, and you can't even bother to check on her? You're so selfish, Harper."

I stared at my half-brother, really seeing him for perhaps the first time. The golden boy who'd always had everything handed to him, including his sister's fiancé.

"When you and Mom and Dad were discussing giving away my wedding, did anyone ask how I felt about it?" I kept my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Derek's eyes narrowed, then widened slightly as understanding dawned. He glanced over his shoulder at our parents, who were pretending not to listen from the living room.

"That's different," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"How?"

He didn't answer. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped aside, clearing my path to the front door.

"You'll be back," he muttered as I passed. "You always come back."

Not this time.

I reached the front door just as it swung open from the outside. Nathan stood there, his tall frame filling the doorway, his blue eyes finding mine immediately.

"Harper," he said, as if we were meeting for coffee rather than in the aftermath of him abandoning me at the altar. "We need to talk."

Behind him, I could see his car in the driveway—the car that should have been carrying us to our honeymoon destination twelve hours ago.

"Don't make this difficult," he continued, his tone patronizing. "Serena needs our support right now. Your understanding would mean a lot to her."

I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw nothing of the man I thought I loved. Just a stranger wearing Nathan's face.

"I understand perfectly," I said, and stepped past him into the night.

He didn't follow me as I walked down the driveway and out onto the street. The night air felt cool against my skin, cleaner somehow than the stifling atmosphere of the house behind me.

A yellow taxi turned the corner, its vacant sign glowing like a beacon. I raised my hand, and it pulled up beside me.

"Where to?" the driver asked as I slid into the backseat.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years—Sophie's number from our college days. When she answered, her familiar voice washing over me like a balm, I took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," I said simply.

Ready to leave. Ready to fight back. Ready to reclaim everything they'd taken from me.

As the taxi pulled away from the curb, I didn't look back at the house where I'd never truly belonged. The Final Ultimatum page in my journal wasn't just empty words anymore.

It was a promise.