His Sister, His Child, My Escape

Shortly after I returned to my hotel room, a cold text from Jeffrey arrived.

He hadn't even bothered to call. Instead, his assistant had packed my things and dumped them like trash outside his penthouse.

The most jarring sight was the lace bed set my mother had hand-woven, carelessly stuffed into a clear garment bag. Its delicate patterns seemed to mock me under the harsh hallway lights.

"Come get it now!"

"If you don't want it, I'll have the doorman throw it out."

I stared at the screen, my fingertips icy.

He knew exactly how to twist the knife. I could abandon the designer bags and jewels, but I had to retrieve that bedding.

"Fine. On my way."

That lace bed set... my mother had spent six months on it, weaving every intricate detail by hand.

A woman who'd never done housework had developed calluses on her fingers.

The night before the wedding, she'd handed it to me with a smile. "Darling, I know this might seem old-fashioned for New York, but it's my blessing to you. I wish you a lifetime of happiness."

But when I arrived at the apartment, the doorway was empty.

It had only been half an hour.

I told him I was coming. Was he that desperate to erase me?

Fury surged through me. I shoved the apartment door open and stormed inside.

The scene before me was like a plunge into an ice cave.

Carina sat at the dining table while Jeffrey rested a gentle hand on her lower abdomen. They were looking down at an ultrasound photo on a tablet, the tender expression on his profile a blinding agony to witness.

"Jeffrey," Carina whispered, "I think the baby just moved."

Jeffrey leaned closer, a smile gracing his lips that I had never seen before. "It's only been a few weeks. You're probably imagining things. But I bet he'll be a troublemaker, just like you."

When he looked up at her, his gaze was impossibly soft. "I hope he has your eyes."

Carina blushed, smiling shyly.

Jeffrey placed a soft kiss on her forehead, his tone suddenly laced with guilt. "Are you sure? You could stay, you know. I can take care of you and the baby. A child needs its mother."

Carina placed a finger on his lips and shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. "Jeffrey, if I stay, what about Alice? She's your fiancée."

At the mention of my name, Jeffrey's body tensed, his face darkening.

"Her? She's just throwing a tantrum. Once this baby is born, she'll come crawling back for the sake of our family business. Women from nouveau riche families like hers only care about money. They have no pride."

"Do you remember how she chased me? That fawning look on her face... It's pathetic just thinking about it."

Tears streamed silently down my cheeks.

So the bold pursuit I had been so proud of was just pathetic in his eyes.

The Blackwoods were an architectural dynasty in New York, and Jeffrey was their golden boy.

Five years ago, he came to California to discuss a project with my father.

My father, full of praise for him, had made a point of introducing us.

I fell for him instantly, trying every clumsy, heartfelt trick I could think of to get close to him.

He once told me impatiently, "Don't waste your time. We're from different worlds."

I had grinned and replied, "Then save me the trouble and just say yes."

He had glanced at a quiet Carina in the distance, then suddenly took my hand with a self-deprecating laugh. "Alright."

I had leaped up and hugged him, so deliriously happy that I completely missed Carina turning and running away, or the way his entire body had gone rigid in my arms.

Only now did it all make sense. He was using me to provoke Carina, or maybe to hide his own twisted feelings for his adopted sister.

No wonder he always avoided talking about our future and barred me from his private studio.

A wave of bitterness churned in my stomach. I was about to leave, but I couldn't go without my mother's lace.

"Alice!" Jeffrey turned, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. "What are you doing, skulking in the doorway? Your junk is gone. Having second thoughts?"

I dug my nails into my palm. "My mother's gift. Where is it?"

He froze for a second, his expression hardening. "That old lace? It was an eyesore. Why would I keep it?"

"My mother wove it by hand," I said, my voice trembling. "Give it back, and I'll be gone."

Seeing the tears in my eyes, he frowned. "You're crying? Over a piece of lace? Alice, you're being childish."