Grace's POV
My expression grew dark as I spotted the phone clutched in Amara's grip. There she was again, ready to terrorize me with her lies to our mother, potentially triggering another minor heart attack that could prove deadly given her fragile heart and deteriorating health.
I couldn't fathom how Amara had grown so heartless toward our mother. She'd never experienced real hardship, except when I exposed our father's crimes, landing him behind bars and ultimately shattering our family.
The guilt of destroying our family still ate at me. I knew Amara, being the baby, needed the most comfort, so I bent over backwards to satisfy her every whim—from simple requests like fetching water to harder tasks like completing her assignments or handing over my part-time wages so she could buy whatever caught her fancy.
I'd spoiled her rotten back then, trying to make up for our broken home, but by high school, I realized the damage was done.
