My step sister's marriage: I am her substitute

I stood in the middle of the backyard behind the clinic, the soft country breeze caressing my face. The fields around me seemed to stretch on forever, blanketed in a soft golden glow of the setting sun. Peaceful. Quiet. On the surface. I knew better than to trust that peace. This was never home; this was exile.

It always did that, washed over me like a wave, when I was by myself. The day my father passed away was the day my world stopped.

I was his princess, his little Alice. He always said my mother left her strength behind in me when she passed away. He raised me to be strong, kind, and positive. I clung to those values because I thought they were enough to keep us together, to keep us safe.

But when his car slid off the icy road, and his heart stopped beating, it all unraveled.

My stepmother, Victoria, wore black to his funeral, but there was no hint of grief in her eyes. While I cried for the last of my kin, she stood beside me, gazing down at me as though I were some pest she could not wait to be free of. I did not realize then how true that was.

A week after the funeral, my father's will was read by the lawyer. I sat in that cold, shining office, clinging to the expectation that Dad had left me something. He'd always said that he'd done everything for me.

But the will named Victoria as the sole heir to the Harper estate. The business. The mansion. The savings. It all went to her.

"Your father trusted me to see everything," she said, playing the part of a grieving woman clutching her pearls.

"You're still young, Alice. Don't you worry, I'll take care of you."

It wasn't long before I learned what that meant. I wasn't her stepdaughter anymore, I was her servant.

"Alice, clean the dining room."

"Alice, make Clara's breakfast."

"Alice, why can't you be more like Clara?"

Clara. My flawless stepsister. Beautiful, pampered, and heartless. She thrived under Victoria's regime, lapping up every second of her newfound power.

It wasn't sufficient that Victoria stole my inheritance from me. She stole everything else from me too.

I will never forget the day she caused me to fail my exams. I had studied for months. I was going to be a doctor, as Dad always hoped I would. The night before, Clara burst into my room, her face streaming with tears.

"I will never be able to pass!" she wailed, clutching her textbooks as if they were shields against her. "Mother's going to hate me!"

Victoria appeared within minutes, her piercing eyes slicing through me. "Alice," she said, her voice honey-like. "Clara requires your help."

I didn't mind helping. But for Victoria, that wasn't enough.

"You'll fail your exams for her," she said, as if it was the most normal request in this world.

"What?" I said, aghast. "I have worked so hard

Victoria's smile grew cold. "And you'll clean this house more diligently if you don't. Remember, dear, that I dictate whether you eat, sleep, or stay beneath this roof.".

I sat up that night, staring at my exam papers. My eyes were blurry with tears, but I did what she said I had to do. I marked all my wrong answers and all her correct ones. When results came out, Clara passed. I failed.

"You're such a failure, Alice," Clara had taunted.

A failure. That's what they called me. But I wasn't.

The worst was when I got in an accident. It was during winter, and the stairs outside the house were covered with ice. I slipped and fell down the stairs. Pain shot through me as I fell awkwardly on my ankle. I screamed for help, but no one came.

I must have been there for a few hours, freezing and not being able to get up. Later on, Victoria did leave, and the moment she saw me, I was a burden.

"Get up," she shouted.

"I can't," I said, with tears in my eyes.

She then sighed, asking one of our neighbors to take me to the clinic. On the way, I heard her telling a friend how much she is investing in me.

I limped around the house for weeks, trying to keep up with them. When I couldn't, Clara told me I was lazy. Victoria agreed. I had learned that my pain didn't matter to them. Nothing at all about me mattered in their lives.

Then, on my 13th birthday, they sent me away. "You're an adult now," Victoria said, shoving a bus ticket into my hand. "There's a farmhouse out in the country where you can stay. It's quiet. You'll be okay."

She did not even say goodbye.

The farmhouse wasn't great. It was old and worn, with barely enough heat to remove the sting from the cold nights. But at least they were gone. I worked at a local clinic, helping an old doctor. It was nothing, but it gave me a reason.

I did five years of solitude, working and studying every spare moment I had. I had to prove to myself-and maybe Dad, wherever he was-that I wasn't a failure.

Victoria and Clara did not forget about me, either. They would call from time to time, but not out of love. Clara would brag about her new clothes, her trips to town, the men who adored her. Victoria would remind me of how grateful I should be for their "generosity."

Still, I stayed away. Far away.

Until today.

Victoria phoned this morning. I was going to let it go but was compelled to pick up.

"Happy birthday, dear," her voice was honey.

I was surprised because Victoria had never before wished me a happy birthday. Why now?

"We miss you," she continues, "Why don't you come home? We'll have this little party. It's so long since we've seen you."

Home. The word sounded odd coming from her lips. Still, a part of me-a part I hated-wanted to believe she meant it. Maybe they'd altered. Maybe they finally cared.

So, I agreed. I picked up my things, got on the bus, and returned to the mansion that had once been my home.

When I came in, it was like stepping into a museum. It was all exactly as I had left it, but colder. Clara broke the silence first, her green eyes shining with mischief. She looked me up and down as if I was a stranger.

"Still dressing like a farmer, I see," she said, her mouth curling into a sneer.

Victoria showed up a second later, as elegant and ruthless as ever. "You've... developed," she said to me, though it came out less like a compliment and more like an insult.

They led me to the table where on the table was a small cake. I stared at it, confused. Was this real? Were they actually celebrating my birthday?

Then Victoria spoke, her voice sharp and deliberate. "We have a serious issue to discuss."

Clara grinned, her excitement barely contained.

Victoria gestured to a man seated at the head of the table. I hadn't noticed him before. He was tall, with piercing blue eyes and a cold expression that made my stomach twist.

"This," Victoria said, "is Ryan Bennett. He's your future husband."

My heart stopped.

"What?" I whispered, my voice shaking.

Clara laughed, her voice venomous. "Happy birthday, Alice. You're getting married."