Chapter 9: The Sister's Discovery
1303words
My phone buzzed with a text from Cassian: *Meeting with wedding planner at villa. Will call later. Stay vigilant.*
Our decision to stop hiding had seemed brave last night. In the cold light of day, it felt reckless. Orion would use any ammunition to hurt us both—me for rejecting him, Cassian for choosing me.
The buzzer rang, startling me. Through the intercom, the doorman announced, "Delivery for Miss Whitestone."
Minutes later, I signed for a large arrangement of white lilies. The card read simply: *Looking forward to reconnecting. —Isolde*
My stomach knotted. Not a threat, exactly, but a reminder that she knew where I lived.
I placed the flowers on my dining table, unsure whether to interpret them as peace offering or warning. Before I could decide, the buzzer rang again.
"Miss Whitestone, you have a visitor. Miss Isolde Whitestone."
My pulse quickened. "Send her up."
I smoothed my hair and straightened my shoulders, determined to face my stepsister with dignity. When I opened the door, Isolde stood there in designer sunglasses and a cream linen dress that emphasized her perfect figure.
"Hello, Seraphina." She removed her sunglasses, revealing eyes so like my father's—calculating, assessing. "May I come in?"
I stepped aside, watching as she entered my apartment with the same entitled grace she'd always possessed. She surveyed my home—the sketches pinned to walls, the half-finished designs, the view of Milan's fashion district.
"You've done well for yourself," she said, trailing manicured fingers over my drafting table.
"Thank you for the flowers."
"I wasn't sure you'd see me otherwise." She turned, studying me openly. "You look different."
"So I've been told."
"Not just your appearance." Her head tilted slightly. "You carry yourself differently. Like you belong in your skin now."
The observation surprised me. Isolde had never been particularly perceptive—or if she was, she'd never shown it around me.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
She moved to the window, looking out at the city. "I saw you yesterday. With Orion and Cassian."
"At the gallery, yes."
"No." She turned, her expression unreadable. "After. I followed you."
Ice slid down my spine. "You what?"
"I was curious where you lived. How you lived." She shrugged delicately. "So I took a taxi and followed your car. I was going to come up, surprise you with a sisterly visit."
The way she emphasized "sisterly" made my skin crawl.
"But then," she continued, "I saw Cassian arrive. I saw him use his key. And I waited, watching your windows."
My mouth went dry. "Isolde—"
"The lights in your bedroom stayed on quite late." Her smile was sharp as a blade. "And Cassian's car remained parked outside until morning."
I said nothing, refusing to deny what she clearly already knew.
"How long?" she asked.
"That's none of your business."
"Oh, but it is." She moved closer. "You're sleeping with my fiancé's uncle. The man whose villa we're using for our wedding. I'd say that makes it very much my business."
"What do you want, Isolde? Money? To run to Father with the news?"
Something flickered across her face—hurt, perhaps, or offense. "Is that what you think of me?"
"What else should I think? We've never been friends, let alone sisters."
"No," she agreed softly. "We haven't."
She sank onto my sofa, suddenly looking tired. The perfect posture slipped, revealing something I'd never seen in her before—vulnerability.
"Do you love him?" she asked.
The question caught me off guard. "Yes."
"And he loves you?"
"Yes."
She nodded slowly. "I thought so. I saw how he looked at you yesterday. How he positioned himself between you and Orion." Her laugh held no humor. "No one has ever looked at me that way."
"Orion—"
"Orion looks at me the way men look at trophies." She twisted the massive diamond on her finger. "Something to be displayed, admired, but not particularly valued."
I sat across from her, uncertain how to navigate this new, honest version of Isolde.
"Why are you marrying him, then?"
"Why do you think? It's what was expected. The perfect match—beauty and wealth combined." She looked up, her eyes surprisingly bright with unshed tears. "Mother has been grooming me for this marriage since I was sixteen."
"Victoria always had ambitions," I said carefully.
"You have no idea." Isolde's voice hardened. "She orchestrated everything. Including Orion's little game with you."
The revelation shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. "What?"
"She knew he was meeting you in the library. She encouraged it." Isolde's gaze dropped to her hands. "She told him to make you believe he cared, to keep you distracted while she arranged our engagement."
Old pain flared, but duller now. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I'm jealous." The admission seemed to cost her. "Not of your looks—though I admit, that was a shock. But of this." She gestured around the apartment. "Your freedom. Your work. The way Cassian looks at you."
I studied her, seeing beyond the perfect exterior to the trapped woman beneath. "You could leave. Start over."
"Like you did?" She shook her head. "I'm not brave like you, Seraphina. I never was."
"It's not about bravery. It's about survival."
"Yes." Something shifted in her expression. "Like your mother."
My heart stuttered. "What about my mother?"
Isolde hesitated, conflict evident on her face. "She was planning to leave, wasn't she? Before the accident."
"How do you know that?"
"I overheard Mother and Father arguing about it years ago. Mother said he should be grateful for what she'd done, keeping his secret safe after 'that woman' threatened to expose everything."
My hands clenched into fists. "Are you saying Victoria knew something about my mother's death?"
"I don't know details." Isolde looked genuinely regretful. "Just that it wasn't as accidental as everyone claimed."
The confirmation of my worst suspicions left me breathless. "And you never said anything?"
"I was fifteen, Seraphina. Scared and confused." She stood, pacing restlessly. "By the time I understood what I'd heard, years had passed. What good would it have done?"
"Justice," I whispered. "Truth."
"At what cost?" She faced me directly. "The same cost you'll pay if Orion discovers your relationship with Cassian. He'll destroy you both—your reputation, Cassian's business."
"Is that a threat?"
"No." She surprised me by taking my hands. "It's a warning. From someone who knows exactly how cruel our family can be."
I searched her face for deception but found only weary honesty. "What are you going to do, Isolde?"
"I don't know." She released my hands and retrieved her sunglasses. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you'll help me too."
"Help you how?"
She paused at the door. "I need time to figure that out. But when I do—when I decide what I want from this life—I'll need an ally."
"And in the meantime? Will you tell Orion about Cassian and me?"
"No." Her smile was sad. "Consider it a gesture of sisterhood. Perhaps the first real one I've ever made."
After she left, I stood motionless in my apartment, mind reeling. I trusted Isolde's jealousy and her assessment of Orion's character. What I couldn't trust was her loyalty—not when she'd spent a lifetime under Victoria's influence.
I reached for my phone to call Cassian, then hesitated. Isolde's revelation about my mother's death had opened old wounds, raising questions I'd buried for years.
Questions that might lead back to Cassian himself.
Why had he really helped me escape London? What did he know about my mother? About my father's business?
For the first time since falling in love with him, doubt crept into my heart like a shadow.
