Chapter 3: The Birthday War Begins
Not long after, it was Grandma Rose’s birthday. I picked out my gift early, determined to get it right.
But when I arrived, it was obvious—the birthday party was just Savannah’s stage. She was there to prove something, and everyone knew it.
Grandma Rose sat at the head of the table, Savannah at her right, the picture of loyalty.
Dressed in red, stunningly beautiful. The color caught the light, making her look like she was on fire.
When I walked in, she stood and greeted me with everyone else, trying to look respectful, but her eyes lingered on mine a beat too long.
Grandma Rose smiled kindly: “Lillian’s here, come sit by me.” Her voice was warm, but I could feel the tension underneath.
The mood at the party shifted, subtle but unmistakable. Conversations slowed, eyes darted from me to Savannah and back again.
The older ladies exchanged glances, lips pressed tight, too nervous to say anything.
Mrs. Chambers was so angry her chest heaved. She looked ready to march across the room and start a fight.
I gave my gift and said my hellos, forcing a smile that felt brittle.
Once I was sure everything was in place, I pointed at Savannah and said, “How can Grandma’s house have someone so unruly? Better send her to the guest room so I can teach her some manners myself!” My voice was light, but the meaning was clear.
First three months after the wedding, no other woman wears red at family events—Grandma Rose’s rule. Everyone knew it, and everyone knew why.
What Savannah wore today wasn’t a true red, but it was close enough to make a statement. She wasn’t backing down. I felt my jaw clench.
If you give an inch, they’ll take a mile.
Led away by the older ladies, Savannah didn’t fight. She went quietly, head high, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her break.
She smiled, just barely. “Lillian, tell me, which matters more—love between husband and wife, or blood ties?” Her voice was cool, but her eyes searched mine for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe just the truth.
As soon as she finished, a shout rang out from the hallway. My heart jumped, the tension snapping.
Carter had just gotten back from a trip, his face thunderous as he pointed at Savannah. “Who said you could treat family like that?” His voice cut through the room like a blade. Every fork clattered, every conversation died mid-sentence. The battle lines were drawn, sharp and clear, and I knew nothing would ever be the same.
Under the polite smiles, a quiet war finally started.













