When I saw my brother cruising through town in a shiny red convertible, I knew something was off. Maverick could barely afford gas, let alone a car that screamed six figures. I had no idea that car held the key to a betrayal I never saw coming — and a plan Gran had set in motion long before she was gone.
My name is Juniper, and I’m 26. It’s been four years since I left my hometown, and honestly? It was the best decision I ever made. I needed distance — not just miles, but peace.
My family never made it easy to feel like I belonged. My parents had one golden child: my brother, Maverick. He could do no wrong. I, on the other hand, was
the afterthought. The “spare,” Gran used to call me with a knowing smirk and a soft pat on the cheek. Only, when she said it, it felt like a joke wrapped in kindness — a reminder that she saw me even if no one else did. Read mroe below
