He Chose My Sister on Our Wedding Day—So I Walked Away Chapter 07

He Chose My Sister on Our Wedding Day—So I Walked Away Chapter 07

‘I’ll deal with your mom. I’ll go and kneel to her. I’ll take the blame. All of it, me.”

“Maren, if you’ll come back, I’ll do anything.”

I didn’t take them.

He stood there holding the papers for a long time.

“If you don’t believe these words, let me put it another way.”

“Tell me one thing right now, and I’ll do it.”

“Tell me to quit the company, and I’ll resign tomorrow.”

“Tell me to send Delaney abroad, and I’ll arrange it tonight.”

“Tell me to kneel…”

He actually bent his knees, and knelt on the sidewalk, ramrod straight, right there among the people passing

by.
“I’ll kneel.”

The after–work crowd surged around us, and phones came up.

I looked down at him.

“Grant, do you know what I want?”

He lifted his head, his eyes full of red.

“Tell me. I’ll give you all of it.”

“I want my baby.”

His face fell apart.

I didn’t argue with him any further. I slung my bag over my shoulder and left.

But for half a month straight, Grant waited for me downstairs.

On the nineteenth morning, the lobby was empty.

I walked out the door and paused for a beat.

The doorman told me the man had collapsed last night and been taken away by an ambulance.

I said nothing.

I’d driven two streets when a text message caught up with me.

[Maren, Grant’s in the hospital.]

[Are you happy now?]

Back at my apartment, my phone buzzed all night.

[Maren, you’re really cruel.]

[Grant’s fever hit 103.6. In his delirium, all he says is your name.”

[Are you happy now?]

[Bitch.]

[You took everything from me for twenty–six years, and now you’re taking him too.]

[I won’t let either of you have peace.]

Message after message, cursing until deep into the night.

I scrolled through them and sent back one line.

[None of my business.]

Send. Block. Sleep.

The next day at nine, I walked into the conference room on time.

“Westgate Commons Phase II. Let’s begin.”

When the meeting ended, the front desk called.

“Ms. Whitlock, there’s a Ms. Whitlock downstairs to see you.”

“She says she’s your sister.”

I answered without hesitation.

“I won’t see her.”

At noon, a news alert hit the trending page.

The headline read:

[Ellsworth Falls Woman Livestreams Rooftop Threat, Allegedly After Online Backlash Over Wedding Scandal]

In the video, Delaney sat on the roof railing, sobbing a name.

Grant.

The comments section had already erupted.

[Isn’t this the sister who knelt at the wedding?]

[Full footage is out. The germ thing was fake. Years of it, all staged!]

[Kneeling at the wedding? Crocodile tears.]

[Is anyone else here just waiting to see if she jumps?]

I watched it with a blank face and swiped it away.

At three in the afternoon, I walked out of the building and a crowd of reporters closed in.

Microphones nearly jabbed my face.

“Ms. Whitlock, as the older sister, what do you have to say about the rooftop incident?”

“Your sister is under observation at the hospital. Have you visited her?”