Chapter 20: THE ROOT OF BETRAYAL

Chapter 20 : The Root of Betrayal

Patricia sat alone in her bedroom, the city lights spilling through the curtains like silent witnesses to her unrest. Richard had stormed out earlier after yet another argument, leaving her with nothing but the bitter taste of wine and the echo of her own thoughts.

She hated silence. Silence gave her memory too much power.

From the outside, Patricia Montgomery was everything a woman should be—beautiful, confident, successful, and now engaged to one of the city’s most eligible men. But inside, she was still the girl from years ago—the girl who had always been second best.

Second to her brothers, who had inherited their father’s wealth and left her to fend for herself. Second to the women at school, who mocked her because her clothes weren’t expensive enough, her accent not polished enough. And worst of all—second to Stella.

Stella Adams.

Patricia remembered the first day they met in university. Stella, with her shy smile and kind eyes, had been the kind of friend Patricia never knew she needed. Stella didn’t judge, didn’t compete, didn’t try to outshine. And for years, Patricia leaned on that. She laughed with Stella, cried with Stella, shared secrets she’d never told another soul.

But somewhere along the line, the balance shifted.

It was little things at first—boys who asked about Stella instead of her, professors who praised Stella’s diligence, friends who whispered about how “lucky” Patricia was to have someone so loyal by her side. Patricia smiled on the outside, but deep down, envy coiled like a snake around her heart.

Then came Richard.

Patricia hadn’t wanted him at first. He was handsome, yes, but shallow—at least in her eyes. But when he chose Stella, when he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, something in Patricia snapped.

Why Stella?

Why always Stella?

Patricia had the looks, the style, the ambition. Stella had none of those—not in Patricia’s mind. Stella was simple. Ordinary. Forgettable. Yet somehow, Richard had fallen for her. And the world seemed to applaud it, as though Stella had won a prize Patricia didn’t even know she was competing for.

That was the first time Patricia truly tasted bitterness.

She remembered lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, hearing Stella gush about Richard over the phone. He bought me this dress, Patricia. He said I’m his queen, Patricia. Each word had been a knife twisting deeper, not because Stella meant harm, but because Stella never realized the harm she caused just by existing.

Patricia began to plot—not consciously at first. A comment here, a subtle doubt there. She tested Richard, flirted lightly, laughed too long at his jokes. And when he didn’t resist—when his eyes lingered a little too long—Patricia knew.

He could be hers.

Not because she loved him. But because taking him meant taking back everything Stella had ever “won.”

Their engagement announcement hadn’t been a celebration of love. It had been a declaration of war. Patricia’s war. A war she intended to win at all costs.

As she stared into her glass of wine, Patricia’s lips curled into a bitter smile.

“Best friends,” she muttered under her breath. “She thought I wanted friendship. I wanted everything she had.”

For Patricia, it had never been about Richard. It had always been about Stella.