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My mate's true love is my sister Novel Cover

My mate's true love is my sister

For five years, foster she-wolf Ivy lived as a replacement for her sister Hailey, enduring Brandon Carrington’s neglect. After a brush with death and witnessing Brandon’s betrayal, Ivy reconnects with her wealthy birth parents and decides to sever her bond. Following a brutal public humiliation where Brandon injures her, Ivy flees to Talvador with Miles. Together, they expose Hailey’s art plagiarism. Brandon finally realizes his mistake, but Ivy chooses Miles.
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Chapter 4

I walked into the office, clutching two sets of papers, my bandaged hand throbbing under the layers of gauze. Brandon noticed right away, his brows knitting together. "What's wrong with your hand?"

When I didn't answer immediately, he jumped to conclusions. "You hurt yourself? Just because I called you out last night, you're pulling some self-harm stunt to get back at me?"

I almost laughed. He didn't even know his own door-slamming tantrum had mangled my hand. Typical. Whenever Hailey was around, I might as well have been invisible.

"It's nothing," I said flatly. "Just a scratch."

He wasn't buying it. The gash was too ugly to be "just a scratch." But before he could dig deeper, I shoved the papers at him. "Brandon, I need you to sign these. Now."

His frown deepened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He reached for the documents, but then his phone buzzed-Hailey, of course. After a few words, he grabbed his jacket. "I've got somewhere to be. We'll deal with the contracts later."

"No," I said, my voice firm as I pressed a pen into his hand. "These are urgent. Sign them now."

Hailey's call came through again, and I could feel my patience fraying. I flipped the papers to the last page and set them in front of him. "Sign, and you're free to go."

He shot me a look, clearly annoyed that I was "making a fuss." With a huff, he scribbled his name on both documents. "Happy now?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. We're good."

He turned and left, pausing at the door to toss out one last order. "Hailey's coming over for dinner tonight. You know she's picky, so make a few of her favorite dishes. I already talked to her about last night-she's willing to let it go, so don't hold a grudge. You're the older sister here. Cook her something nice as an apology."

And just like that, he was gone.

I stared down at my bandaged hand, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. Even with my hand torn up, he still expected me to bend over backward for Hailey.

That evening, Brandon showed up with Hailey in tow. The second they walked in, Brandon's nose wrinkled. "What's that smell?" He bolted to the back garden, where I was standing over a small fire, watching flames lick at the gifts he'd given me over the years.

Those trinkets used to mean everything to me. Once, when a servant accidentally ruined one, I'd lost it. Now, here I was, burning them to ash.

Brandon's face twisted with anger. He kicked the fire pit, scattering embers. "What the hell are you doing?"

I didn't flinch. "Spring cleaning. No room for this stuff anymore. Didn't you tell me this afternoon that Hailey's moving in? I needed to clear out a room."

His jaw tightened, but my excuse was airtight. He couldn't argue. Still, I could tell it bugged him.

Hailey clung to his arm, her voice syrupy. "Brandon, I do have a lot of stuff, but it's just old clothes. No big deal if they're gone."

He sighed, his expression softening. "Whatever. It's not like they were important anyway."

As he walked off, I stared at the smoldering remains of those memories, a faint smirk on my face. Not important. Right. Just like me.

In the dining room, Brandon's mood soured again when he saw the empty table. "I told you Hailey was coming for dinner. Why isn't there any food?"

I held up my bandaged hand, my voice flat. "Can't cook."

For a split second, guilt flashed across his face. He'd forgotten about my injury. But Hailey wasn't about to let him dwell on it. She tugged at his arm. "Brandon, since Evelyn didn't cook, let's just go out to eat."

I didn't want to watch them play their little lovebird act anymore. I turned and headed upstairs.

After a shower, my phone rang. It was Miles. He was talking about planning our binding ceremony, asking what kind I'd like. five years with Brandon, always hidden, never acknowledged-I'd never dared to dream of a real ceremony. I thought I didn't deserve one. But Miles? He made it feel so easy, like I was worth it.

I thought for a moment. "The beach," I said. "I'd love a ceremony by the sea."

Just then, the door swung open. Brandon stood there, eyes narrowed. "What ceremony?"

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