Chapter 12 - The Sister Who Was Also My Cousin
Chloe pleaded to charges before my parents went to trial.
Not attempted murder.
Her conduct was different.
She admitted harassment.
Coercive communications.
Participation in a scheme to pressure me to cancel my wedding.
And obstruction related to initially deleting some messages after the attack.
She had recovered them through cloud backup and cooperated.
Her plea agreement included probation, community service, counseling, and restitution tied to investigative costs? Depending exact offense. Maybe no prison due cooperation and no prior record.
Before judge accepted, she had to say what she did.
“I sent messages to Ethan pretending someone else had written them.”
Then:
“I followed him to places to make contact after he told me not to.”
Then:
“I participated in my parents’ plan to make Emma believe Ethan preferred me.”
Then:
“I knew my father might frighten Emma on the day of the assault.”
Judge:
“Did you know he would use a brick?”
“No.”
“Did you know your mother had placed one outside?”
“No.”
“Did you hear statements suggesting physical harm?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I wrote Emma a note instead of calling her or police.”
There.
Cowardice named.
Then:
“Why?”
“I wanted to protect myself from my parents while still staying loyal to them.”
Good.
Then sentence deferred until after testimony.
She might avoid custody if cooperation substantial.
I did not ask maximum.
I did not ask leniency.
Then Ethan and I went to therapy together.
Not because relationship broken by us.
Because violence had entered.
I told him:
“I don’t want you to become bodyguard.”
“I know.”
“You’re already checking doors.”
“Yes.”
“You followed me into bathroom yesterday.”
“I was worried.”
“I need privacy.”
He looked ashamed.
“I’m sorry.”
Trauma spreads roles.
He had watched me bleed.
He became hypervigilant.
We both needed reset.
Then our canceled wedding.
Deposits.
Venue refunded most after criminal circumstances.
Dress store held gown.
I did not want to see.
Then one afternoon, I went.
Alone first.
The dress was ivory silk.
No sleeves.
My face scar visible above neckline.
I looked in mirror.
I cried.
Saleswoman said nothing.
Good.
Then Ethan came only after I called.
“Do you hate it?”
“No.”
“Do you hate my face?”
His eyes closed.
“Emma.”
“Answer.”
“No.”
“Do you feel sorry for me?”
“Yes.”
I bristled.
Then he corrected:
“I feel sorry you were hurt. I do not pity you.”
That difference.
Then:
“Do you still think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes.”
Not:
More than ever.
No trauma romance.
Just yes.
I believed him.
Then I bought nothing new.
Kept dress.
No date.
Then Catherine requested a meeting through counsel before trial.
I refused.
She wrote letter.
I read.
Emma,
I loved you.
Past tense.
Then:
When Rebecca died, I did not know how to become mother to her child without feeling like I was being compared to her.
Then:
Eleanor made it worse by protecting your inheritance separately.
There.
Grandma’s boundaries felt like insult to Catherine.
Then:
Every dollar reminded me you were Rebecca’s first.
That sentence.
I stopped.
She was jealous of dead sister in law? Actually Rebecca was Richard's sister, Catherine's sister-in-law. She felt second mother compared.
Then:
When Chloe was born, I wanted one child who was entirely mine.
My stomach turned.
No child is entirely anyone’s.
Then:
I began resenting every advantage Eleanor protected for you.
Then Ethan.
He became symbol.
Then:
I told myself Chloe deserved one thing that had chosen you first.
A man.
As if Ethan were object.
Then:
I never meant for Richard to kill you.
Not:
I never meant him to hit.
She admitted intention to injure.
Then:
I wanted him to damage your face enough that Ethan would hesitate.
I closed letter.
No need more.
Attempted permanent disfigurement.
May you like
Not love.
Continue to the next part: Catherine finally admits she wanted Emma’s face damaged badly enough to stop the wedding, ending any claim that the brick attack was an impulsive family argument.
