The moment I saw my brother behind the wheel of a shiny red convertible, I knew something wasn’t right. I never imagined that car would reveal a betrayal I never expected—and uncover a secret Gran had hidden long before she passed away.
My name is Juniper, and at 26, it’s been four years since I moved out of state. Leaving home was the best decision I ever made, freeing myself from the family drama and all the hurt it carried with it.
Growing up, my older brother, Maverick, was always the golden child. Meanwhile, I felt overlooked, like an afterthought. Gran, my grandmother, was the only one who made me feel like I belonged. She had a way of making me feel seen, even joking that I was the “spare” in the family—but she always said it with love.
I left home to escape that feeling of being invisible. My boyfriend, Noel, encouraged me to move for myself, far from the family’s shadows. Together, we left everything behind, hoping for a fresh start in the city.
One evening, over dinner, I opened up to Noel. “I couldn’t handle it anymore,” I confessed. He smiled kindly, taking my hand across the table.
“You did the right thing, June. You deserve better than being second place,” he reassured me.
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