A few days later, when the call came, I realized why her smile felt so cold.

Sabrina’s voice was sharp and impatient. “Listen, Brooke’s wedding is two weeks before yours. It’s only fair she wears your dress first. You’ll get your turn later.”

I thought I’d misheard. “Excuse me? That’s my mother’s wedding dress. It’s not for anyone else.”

She let out a laugh that stung like a slap. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It doesn’t even suit you! That dress was made for someone younger, slimmer. Brooke will shine in it. Everyone will see how stunning she is.”

My stomach dropped. And then, as if it couldn’t get worse, I heard Brooke’s smug voice in the background. The call was on speaker.