“Yes,” Vicki said. “I told her she doesn’t get to use me as a pawn anymore. I told her if she wants you back, she has to admit what she did, not just blame you for leaving.”
My throat tightened. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know I’m not helping her,” Vicki said quietly. “And because… I think I finally understand something I didn’t want to understand. Our parents didn’t just prefer me. They used me.”
I sat down on the couch, slow. “Say that again,” I said.
Vicki’s voice cracked. “They used my resentment,” she whispered. “They fed it. They encouraged it. They made me think you were the reason I felt insecure, instead of them being the reason I couldn’t feel loved unless I was winning.”
My chest felt tight, but not in panic. In recognition.
“So what do you want?” I asked carefully.
“I don’t want anything,” Vicki said. “I’m not calling to fix this in a day. I’m calling because Mom threatened to contact your workplace again. She said if you keep ignoring her, she’ll ‘make sure people know’ you’re a liar.”
My stomach went cold. “Did she say that in writing?”
“No,” Vicki said. “But I can get it in writing if you want. I can text her and ask what she means. I can… I can document it.”
Rob appeared quietly in the hallway, listening now. His face was calm but his eyes were sharp.
I took a breath. “Okay,” I said. “Text her. Keep it simple. Ask her what she plans to do. Don’t argue. Just get her to say it.”
“I can do that,” Vicki replied immediately.
“And Vicki,” I added, voice steady, “thank you. For warning me.”
There was a pause so long I thought the call had dropped.
Then she whispered, “You’re welcome.”
When I hung up, my hands were shaking, but not because I felt powerless. Because I felt the weirdness of reality shifting. The sister who once made my life hell was now warning me about our mother.
Rob sat beside me. “You okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I know what I need to do.”
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