Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Early the next morning, I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and hand-washed the black skirt from yesterday.
The weather app promised clear skies, so I hung it on our apartment balcony to dry in the Minneapolis summer sun.
Back in my room, I started organizing my study materials. Top SAT scorers could sell their notes and study guides online for serious cash. Companies like Princeton Review would pay thousands for the right to publish them.
I've always been the kind of person who needs a financial safety net. Money meant independence. Independence meant never having to rely on people who consistently let you down.
Halfway through labeling my calculus section, a shriek cut through the apartment like a fire alarm.
I rushed out to find Rosalia standing in the hallway in her silk pajama set, clutching my dripping wet skirt, her face twisted with fury.
"Liana, how freaking pathetic can you get? Buying the exact same skirt as me? Oh my god—you have a thing for Jax, don't you? Back off. He's mine."
"Put that back. Now." My voice came out sharper than I'd ever allowed it before, something dangerous slipping through the cracks of my carefully maintained composure.
I could feel my face contorting with anger, all pretense of being the "good sister" evaporating.
"No way in hell. Mom and Dad bought your little genius act yesterday, but I know exactly what you're doing."
She bolted toward the bathroom, her intention suddenly crystal clear.
I lunged after her, my heart hammering.
Too late.
Rosalia had dunked my freshly washed skirt into the toilet bowl and was gleefully squirting blue toilet cleaner all over it, the chemical smell burning my nostrils. "God, Liana, you're so desperate it's actually sad."
Without thinking, I ripped the bottle from her hand and emptied what remained directly onto her perfect, honey-blonde hair.
"AHHHHH!"
She screamed as blue liquid cascaded down her face, her smug expression dissolving into shock.
I grabbed her by the throat, my fingers pressing just hard enough to make her eyes widen. "Who's desperate now, Rosalia?"
Rosalia's voice went up several octaves. "You're actually attacking me?! Wait until Mom and Dad hear about this—they'll absolutely destroy you!"
Her shrill voice scraped against something primal inside me. I glanced at my ruined skirt soaking in toilet cleaner—the skirt that had foolishly made me feel special for about five minutes—and seventeen years of being second-best combusted inside me.
I slapped her across the face with every ounce of force I had.
Rosalia froze, her hand rising slowly to her cheek.
She stared at me like I was a stranger, unable to process that her quiet, invisible sister had finally fought back.
When our parents got home, Rosalia had perfected her victim performance—red-faced, hoarse from crying, her cheek swollen, her hair a blue-stained disaster, her designer pajamas ruined.
Mom rushed to her side like she was a wounded soldier. "Oh my god, honey, what happened?"
Dad turned to me, not even needing to ask who was responsible. "Did you hit your sister?"
"Yes."
Before I could say another word, Dad's hand cracked across my face with enough force to make me stagger.
The pain exploded through my skull, my ear ringing like someone had fired a gun next to it.
"Don't think getting a perfect SAT score means you can do whatever the hell you want! What is wrong with you?"
I straightened up slowly, tasting blood where my teeth had cut the inside of my cheek.
I forced my face into a blank mask. Pretending it didn't hurt. Pretending I didn't care.
But inside, the last thread of connection I felt to my family had snapped completely.
They never even asked why. Not a single "what happened?" Just immediate judgment: Liana got full of herself and attacked poor Rosalia.
Mom gave me that special disappointed look she'd perfected over the years. "You could have talked to your sister about whatever was bothering you. Violence is never the answer."
I said nothing. What was the point?
They demanded I apologize to Rosalia. I stared through them like they were made of glass.
Rosalia, seeing she'd won completely, switched to magnanimous mode. "It's okay, guys. I'm sure she didn't mean it. Let's just forget it happened."
Her eyes met mine, a subtle gloat in them. Once again, Team Rosalia had prevailed.
I returned to my room without a word.
Rosalia eventually decided to take a gap year to retake the SAT. She moved out in early August to stay with a friend in St. Paul and prep for the test.
I worked double shifts all summer at my tutoring job and saved almost $20,000.
Eighteen thousand came from the National Merit Scholarship, the Minnesota Academic Excellence Grant, and the Governor's Achievement Award that came with being the state's top scorer.
When UCLA move-in day arrived, I firmly refused my parents' offers to drive me to California.
Mom looked genuinely confused. "Liana, why won't you let us take you to college? Every parent does that."
"It's unnecessary." My voice was flat, my decision final.
Those three words hung in the air between us, a wall I had no intention of breaking down.
Finally, she sighed that martyr sigh she was so good at. "Liana, when did you become so cold-hearted?"
I didn't answer as I zipped my suitcase closed.
Because somewhere between "Liana will barely get into community college" and a slap that said "your sister matters more," I'd realized their opinion of me was worth exactly nothing.