She nods, eyes swinging back to meet mine. “I’m your sister.”
Thirty-Two
Aubrey
Pain fills Ellie’s face as I make my confession. It’s like I’ve landed a death blow and the air is vacating her lungs. I knew this moment would come. I didn’t know when, I didn’t know how. It’s all for the best, though—this woman had to find out one way or another that she’s been living a lie. So be it if I’m the catalyst. I don’t mind being the villain in Ellie’s life—not if it gets me a little closer to my goal. Oh, the twisted web I’ve managed to weave. Just wait until she finds out the rest of her pathetic reality.
“H-how?” she finally sputters.
I feel bad for her—I do—but not enough to continue the charade. “My mom was interning for the summer when she met your dad. He offered to drive her home one night when her car wouldn’t start. He raped her in the backseat. I came screaming into this world nine months later.” I tip my chin up, just daring her to challenge my version of events. “She was only twenty-three and he was fifty-four. She tried to press charges but your father’s lawyers buried her in accusations and smear campaigns. She didn’t report the rape, but that did no good because she still got fired. He ruined her.”
“How old are you?” Ellie finally thinks to ask.
“I just turned twenty-seven,” I tell her.
She presses her lips together, shaking her head with disbelief. “I don’t believe you.” I raise my eyebrows. Of course she doesn’t. Ellie is stubborn and spoiled, used to living her life in a safe little bubble—but I’ve come to pop it. “I grew up across the river in North Bergen. My first fifteen years we lived in low-income housing and I went to a private school on grants. And then my mom married my step-dad and he abused me until I was seventeen. I ran away and haven’t looked back since.”
“Prove it.” El’s tone is arrogant.
“I don’t really know how you expect me to do that...” I think of my birth certificate, the line for father left blank—the glaring missing piece in my lineage. “My mom didn’t tell me who my real father was until I was a teenager; from that point forward I became obsessed. With him. With you. With your lives here. With everything that was withheld from me. I used to put myself in your shoes, dream of what it would be like to live in a penthouse with a nanny and dance classes and a degree from Columbia.”
Ellie tilts her head, her eyes narrowing with anger.
“I’ve been watching, waiting, dreaming of telling you the truth. Wondering if we’d get along, what it would be like to have a sister. And then I realized I’m your sister from the other side of the tracks. I grew up in your shadow and for years I was fixated on why your father chose you and why he didn’t choose me. Why he didn’t love me like he did you.”
“Maybe he didn’t know about you. Maybe your mom was lying,” Ellie snaps.
I shake my head, rage bubbling to life in my system. “Or maybe he’s just a piece of shit.”
Ellie glares at me, a mix of anger, resentment, and pain swirling in her hazel irises. She’s so like me, but not. It’s like staring into a mirror with a slightly distorted reflection. Her lips press into a thin line before she finally says, “I don’t believe you.”
I suck in a breath, squaring my shoulders and turning to face her fully. “That’s understandable,” I say. “I think it’s better if I show you, then.”
Thirty-Three
Ellie
The cab pulls up to a nondescript townhome in the West Village an hour after Aubrey’s big reveal.My sister.My mind is numb, my body moving on autopilot. I wish, not for the first time, that I had someone else—anyone else—to turn to right now. I insulated myself, built a nest and made Jack and my father my everything. I didn’t think I needed anyone else. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Thanks.” Aubrey passes the cab driver a few bills and we both step out onto the curb silently.
I cross my arms over my chest like a shield, as if that could protect me from any more emotional blows directed at me today. I don’t think I have the heart for any more truths, but I’m not sure I can withstand any more lies either.
I follow Aubrey to the front stoop and watch as she punches a button on a small intercom. It crackles to life when a soft, Spanish-inflected voice greets us. Aubrey talks into the speaker stating that we’re here on “society business” and the door buzzes, then clicks as it unlocks. She pushes the door open and we step into the most beautiful foyer I’ve ever seen.
The mansion is expansive—much bigger and more opulent than it looks from the outside. Dark navy embossed wallpaper stretches as far as the eye can see; rich cherry crown molding and an elegant chair rail offset the decor. Black and white art deco tiles stretch down the hallway and chic gold frames and furnishings lend the space an old-Hollywood aesthetic that feels lavish and inviting at the same time.
“This is stunning,” I say, eyes casting around the elegant space.
“Why thank you, dear.” Words lodge in my throat when Kat appears as if out of nowhere. “Welcome to my home.”
I nod, eyes wide with shock as she pulls me into a hug. “I’m so glad you like what you see. It will all be yours someday, after all.”
“Excuse me?”
She holds me at arm’s length, her warm gaze softening with sympathy as she directs her next words at Aubrey. “I see you haven’t told her much.”
My eyes bounce back and forth between the two women.
