Chapter 5: Trading Places

5

A reply came quickly.

Mrs. Miller was over the moon, and Aubrey was so happy when she heard the news it was like she’d won the lottery.

The news spread through their side of the house faster than gossip at Sunday service. Aubrey practically floated around, her voice extra sweet, like she was auditioning for a part she’d been born to play.

The next day, she couldn’t wait to confirm it with me.

"Sis, I heard you’ve got a bit of a fever. This is the medicine Derek brought yesterday. He even went all the way to Savannah to get it from a specialist. I took two doses and I’m already up and about. It works really well."

Aubrey looked delicate and frail, her little face pale and pitiful.

She held the little packets out with the kind of humble-brag that comes naturally to girls who’ve never actually suffered. Her nails were perfectly manicured, the polish barely chipped.

I glanced at the two packets of medicine, my face growing colder. "No need to show off how good Derek is to you. You want this marriage? It’s yours."

"The wedding is set for the second of next month. We’ll both get married that day, and we’ll swap at the last minute. Once it’s done, that’s it."

Although Dad despised Aubrey as a stain on the family, he never actually mistreated her.

She was engaged to Caleb, a staff sergeant stationed in Germany—he’s the kind of guy who sends polite Christmas cards and never misses a Sunday call home.

Though his rank isn’t high, he’s talented and capable.

For a half-sister like Aubrey, this is already a big step up.

But she was clearly ambitious and had her eyes on my fiancé, repeatedly flirting with Derek, who in turn kept letting me down.

Aubrey put on a pitiful look, stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Sis, you really are pathetic. So what if you knew Derek first? He still likes me best."

She curled her lips. "If I had to walk around after that, I’d never show my face in this town again. But you do you, sis."

Her words made me tremble with anger.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, even as her words stung like a slap.

But then she switched back to her weak act, looking at me with fake fear.

She ducked her head, eyes wide like she expected me to snap at her. "Sis, you’re still not well, so I won’t bother you. I’ll come see you another day."

She left the room, the scent of her designer perfume lingering in the air, as artificial as her concern.