Abby’s POV
“Abby, your dad didn’t mean it like that. Don’t be upset, okay? We’ve already moved downstairs. Let’s all just calm down.”
Josefina stepped in, placing a calming hand on George’s arm.
She sounded like the perfect peacemaker, acting as if she were defusing a bomb.
But the subtext was loud and clear: I was the irrational one causing all the drama, and she was the suffering saint.
I looked up from my phone, locking eyes with her.
My smirk sharpened into something dangerous.
“If you’re not comfortable living here,” I said, my voice deceptively light, “feel free to move out.”
The room went silent.
I took a slow step closer, enjoying the way her composure cracked.
“Let me remind you,” I added, my eyes sliding to my father and back to her.
“This house? It was a wedding gift from my grandpa to my mother. Before she even married him. Playing house in another woman’s nest doesn’t really sit right, does it, Josefina?”
It was a brutal reminder to both George and Josefina: this wasn’t their home.
It never had been.
It belonged to the dead woman they had replaced.
Josefina’s face tightened instantly.
Her eyes welled up on cue, performing her best wronged woman act for George’s benefit.
Erina jumped in right on schedule, her voice trembling with manufactured hurt.
“Sis, we’re family! Saying things like that… it just hurts Mom and Dad. She’s looked after you all these years! Maybe she isn’t your biological mom, but she’s tried…”
I threw my head back and laughed—a harsh, cold sound that cut right through her sobbing.
She really think I’m a fool to believe her sweet words.
“You got one thing wrong,” I said, stopping the laughter abruptly to fix Erina with a dead stare.
“Grandpa raised me,” I stated, my tone as cold as ice.
“I made it this far because of him. Your ‘lovely mom’ had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
From the moment Josefina stepped into this house, I had pretty much disappeared from everyone’s radar. This story is hosted at g.com.
I became invisible.
I remembered it clearly.
When I was eight, I had a raging fever that wouldn’t break.
My father didn’t even notice anything was wrong; he was too busy playing happy family with his new woman.
If my Grandpa hadn’t happened to show up that day to check on me, I might have died in my own bed.
After that incident, Grandpa put his foot down.
He refused to let Josefina officially become part of the Sinclair family registry.
Sure, to the outside world, Josefina looked like the lady of the house, but the truth?
Because of my grandpa, she never got a real title.
She was just tagging along with my father, a permanent guest without a proper place in the lineage.
Her children, Erina and Felix?
They weren’t even listed in the Sinclair family registry.
My father walked around with his chest puffed out, so proud of the prestigious Sinclair legacy.
But the reality?
The reality was pathetic.
Without the Hayes family, the Sinclair name would have crumbled to the ground years ago.
My father had nearly driven the company into bankruptcy within a year.
It was Grandpa Theodore—my mother’s father—who had stepped in.
He was the one who had quietly cleaned up every single one of George’s catastrophic messes.
He poured Hayes money and Hayes strategy into the sinking ship, patching the holes my father punched in the hull.
In everything but title, Grandpa owned the Sinclair reputation.
That was the leverage I had.
That was why my father couldn’t actually kick me out, disown me, or force me to marry Nicholas.
“This house? My mom left it to me. If you all don’t like staying here, the door’s always open. Don’t let me stop you.” I took a slow step forward.
“But if you choose to stay, then keep your mouths shut and stay out of my way. If I’m in a good mood, I might tolerate you. If not… don’t blame me for kicking you out.”
I glanced over at Erina, my eyes cold with warning.
Stir the pot again, my look said, and I won’t be nearly as forgiving.
That look alone made Erina go pale.
She bit her lip, lowering her head, and didn’t dare say a word.
Even Josefina just stared at me, a flash of genuine fear in her eyes.
With Grandpa backing me, my father didn’t dare challenge me on the property rights either.
He stayed quiet, forced into submission by my presence alone.
Watching them all fall silent, I felt a cold sense of satisfaction.
I turned to head upstairs, my eyes sweeping past them like they were furniture.
“Wait a minute,” my father called out, his voice tight.
“What is going on between you and the Anderson family?”