She is Like the Beauty of Moonlight

Ethan's generosity towards Mia knew no bounds.

He casually gifted her all the limited-edition bags and designer jewelry I'd ordered.

Even with my years in the shopping trenches, I had to admit: high-end manipulation often uses the simplest tactics.

Oblivious Ethan, did you forget that was my money?

When I tried to collect my items at Hermès, the sales associate awkwardly hinted that Ethan had already swooped in with Mia.

Everything had been delivered to some swanky downtown apartment.

The two of them, looking cozy, went on a very public shopping spree.

Paparazzi even caught Capital Sage dropping millions to make his lady smile.

Ethan was using Mia to get under my skin.

Within hours, though, the rumor mill churned out a new story: Ethan had a fresh flame, and the first lady might be getting the boot.

This juicy scandal spread like wildfire, with everyone eager for the Shane family drama.

Given my moral high ground and Ethan's lofty Capital Sage status, the public naturally turned on the unknown Mia.

Unsurprisingly, Ethan called.

"Gia, got a sec?"

"Nope, busy reading about your sister being called a homewrecker."

I was annoyed at the interruption.

I heard Ethan's deep breath.

I could picture him furiously working those prayer beads.

"Gia, you know it's not like that between Mia and me."

"Oh? News to me."

He was barely containing his anger.

"I need you to clear this up. Set the record straight for Mia."

"And if I don't? You'll keep 'borrowing' my stuff for her?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Gia. They're just bags. I'll buy you more later."

"It's not the same, Ethan."

And neither were we, anymore.

I hung up, my appetite for online drama gone.

Some things, the more you mull them over, the angrier you get. The more you let slide, the more you lose.

Why should I hand over what I bought with my own money?

Ethan raced to the downtown apartment after a barrage of missed calls and frantic texts from Mia. He was too late—the movers and I had already packed everything up.

We'd tossed all the personal stuff: toothbrushes, towels, bedding.

I was only taking what was rightfully mine: the designer clothes, shoes, jewelry, and those "gifts" Ethan had so generously given Mia with my money.

I walked in to find Mia decked out in jade, parading around in my evening gown.

As the movers efficiently boxed things up, I threw her my day-old clothes and demanded she strip off all the jewelry and the haute couture dress.

Mia freaked. She tried calling Ethan, and when he didn't pick up, she threatened to call the cops on me for breaking in.

I flashed the property deed, and she shut up real quick.

"Even if the place is yours, this stuff is from my brother! You're stealing from him!" she accused, trying to flip the script.

I had to hand it to her—smart, but in all the wrong ways.

"You think I need a man to bankroll me like you do? I've got two properties in my name."

Mia was speechless, and right on cue, Ethan burst in.

She ran to him, all teary-eyed.

With the dress slipping off her shoulder, she looked every bit the damsel in distress.

Ethan froze for a second, then wrapped his arms around her protectively.

He shot me a look that could kill, but still played the gentleman, draping his jacket over Mia's shoulders.

"Brother," Mia whimpered, "Gia brought these men to humiliate me. She tried to strip me in front of them."

The cold touch of Ethan's prayer beads against my skin jolted me back to reality.