At my stepsister’s wedding dinner, she thought it would be a great joke to introduce me by saying that I was just a nurse before laughing at her own wit. My father burst out laughing along with her while my stepmother just smirked at the table.
Everything stayed that way until the groom’s father stared at me and asked if I was the girl he remembered from a specific night. His next words froze the entire room and changed the atmosphere instantly.
“This is my stepsister, just a nurse,” my sister, Felicity, had said with the kind of tone you would use to describe a smudge on a window. There were one hundred and fifty guests at the Aspen Ridge Club with champagne glasses held high in the air.
My dad, Kenneth, laughed first because it was a real laugh that proved he agreed with her assessment of my life. I stood there in a forty dollar dress among women wearing designer gowns and did what I have done my whole life by swallowing the insult.
What Felicity did not know was that the man at the head table, the groom’s father who was paying for this wedding, had felt me holding his heart together three years ago. His name was Silas Montgomery, a self made billionaire, and he was finally starting to remember my face.
My name is Jenna Sterling, I am twenty nine years old, and I work as a trauma nurse in a busy emergency room. This is the story of how my sister’s cruelest moment became the biggest mistake of her social life.
The invitation for the wedding had arrived on a Tuesday stuck between a gas bill and a random clothing catalog. It was high quality paper with a gold monogram for Felicity and her fiancé, Garrett.
They had spelled my name wrong as Jennifer on the card and there was no plus one included for me to bring a friend. No one in my family had ever bothered to learn the difference between my real name and what they wanted to call me.
Growing up in Kenneth’s house was a constant lesson in how to become invisible while Felicity and her mother, Monica, took center stage. Felicity had the master suite while my room was a converted laundry nook with a drafty window and a twin mattress.
My father called me every Sunday like it was a chore, usually telling me he would call back in five minutes and then never following through. When the wedding invitation arrived, I almost threw it in the trash until Kenneth called to tell me that Felicity needed me there for the family photos.
I looked up the Montgomery family that night and learned that Silas had built a real estate empire from nothing after starting as a dock worker. His son Garrett was a high level defense attorney who seemed like a decent man who truly loved my sister.
Felicity had spent two years building a fake history for our family on social media where she posted photos of brunches I was never invited to. She told the Montgomerys that Kenneth was a corporate executive when he actually just managed a local hardware store in silver spring.
“We need her there for the photo, but after that, make sure she stays out of the way,” I overheard Felicity whispering to Monica a week before the event. The word invisible had always been my assigned role in this family, but I had learned to become essential in the hospital.
My shifts at Mercy General Hospital usually lasted twelve hours and involved high pressure situations that my family could never imagine. Dr. Silas Vance, the head surgeon, had given me an award for excellence that I kept hidden in my locker because I knew my family would just mock it.
“That is sweet, do they give real awards to people who aren’t doctors?” Felicity had asked the one time I mentioned my work. Monica had laughed from the kitchen while Kenneth said nothing, so I stopped trying to share my life with them.
The biggest case of my career happened three years ago when a massive pileup occurred on Highway 70 during a thunderstorm. I was driving home from a double shift and found a man pinned inside a luxury sedan that was crushed like a soda can.
