If there was an Olympic sport for being the world's most selfish person, I truly believed that I stood a chance of winning the gold.

My brother, my best friend, because of me, he was hurt. He felt betrayed. The way he had looked at me, his eyes two abysses of anguish and rage . . . I was the reason why.

My boyfriend, my Daddy, because of me, he was hurt. His heart had been broken, and his face had discoloured beneath the brunt of my brother's rage. I was the reason why.

I was the common denominator that had come between their epic friendship.

And yet, I was...