But Elizabeth had other ideas. Two weeks after Marina moved out, she sat her daughter down at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee warming her hands.
- You girls are sisters, she said, her voice steady but pleading. You can’t keep fighting over some guy. Emily, if Michael left you, he wasn’t your person. You’re twenty-four—you’ve got time to find someone else. And Marina, you need to make peace with your sister. For me. I can’t stand seeing this family torn apart.
Emily wasn’t buying it. The idea of forgiving Marina felt like swallowing glass, but she nodded to appease her mom. Deep down, she was plotting. Revenge consumed her thoughts—every slight, every moment of humiliation fueled her. Staying estranged from Marina would keep her too far away to strike, so Emily decided to play nice, biding her time. She picked up her phone and called Marina, suggesting they meet.
- Why the sudden change of heart? Marina asked, eyeing Emily warily across a table at a bustling coffee shop in downtown Boise. The scent of roasted beans filled the air, and indie music hummed in the background.
Emily shrugged, stirring her caramel latte with deliberate nonchalance.
- I just figured, what’s the point of fighting? Mom’s a mess, worrying about us. If Michael picked you, he’s not my guy. Like Mom said, I’ll find someone else. Guys come and go, but you’re my only sister.
Marina wasn’t convinced, and neither were Michael or Victoria.
- Your sister’s trouble, Victoria warned Marina one evening, chopping vegetables for a stew. That apology? Too slick, too easy. She’s got an angle, mark my words.
Victoria didn’t want Emily at the wedding, but with the sisters supposedly reconciled, they couldn’t exclude her without stirring up more drama. The ceremony went off without a hitch, the Boise River sparkling under the June sun as Marina and Michael exchanged vows. At the reception, held in the Carter backyard with string lights and a buffet of Victoria’s home-cooked dishes, Emily was on her best behavior. But Victoria watched her like a hawk, her instincts screaming that Emily was up to no good.
- Why does she keep staring at me? Emily muttered to her mom, adjusting the straps of her navy dress as they sat at a picnic table. It’s like she thinks I’m gonna swipe the wedding gifts or something.
- Relax, honey, Elizabeth whispered, squeezing her hand. It’s almost over, and we’ll head home soon.
But Emily had no plans to leave quietly. She’d come with a mission—not to destroy the wedding, but to make Marina suffer, even if just for a night.
- She needs to feel what I felt, Emily thought, her resentment simmering like a pot about to boil over. Humiliated, betrayed, cast aside.
Her plan was petty, not dangerous. Emily wasn’t a criminal; she’d never go so far as to hurt Marina physically. But a little mischief? That was right up her alley. When the guests hit the dance floor, swaying to a cover of a John Legend song, and Victoria was distracted, chatting with her husband about the catering, Emily saw her opening. She slipped a packet of laxative powder from her clutch, glanced around, and sprinkled it into Marina’s iced tea, stirring it quickly with a straw.