My sister’s calculating eyes slide back to Gabriel, now standing beside the bed, watching this twisted little play unfold like he’s unsure of his role.
“Why don’t you tell your boyfriend about Alex.” She directs her vitriol toward me, her voice low and poisonous. Her gaze flicks to Gabriel, then back to me. “Go ahead…tell him.”
“Don’t!” I bark, whipping my head toward her. My voice cracks under the weight of panic.
I glance at Gabriel—eyes wide, pleading—begging him not to go there. I’m not breathing right. I think I might actually pass out.
She takes a step closer to me. There’s a smile pressed across her beautiful face like a mask. One I’ve seen a thousand times before. But for him—only him—our father. I know her expressions. I’ve studied them since I was a little boy. But this one? This one feels wrong.
Without saying a word, she unlocks her phone and shoves it in my face.
A video starts playing.
She turns down the volume fast—but not before a sultry, unmistakable moan slips out.
“Ooooo…”
My stomach drops straight through the floor. My guilty eyes shoot up to Gabriel’s. I’m gonna be sick.
He can’t see the screen from where he’s standing—but I’m pretty sure he knows that moan.
Erica leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. I flinch. Tears burn behind my eyes.
“Don’t,” I whisper, voice cracking, barely recognizable. “Please don’t.”
My eyes dart between them—Gabriel frozen, America still smirking—and I swear I feel the world tilt beneath my feet.
Gabriel suddenly surges forward, fury breaking through his shock.
“Get out of here, Mimi! Leave Noah the fuck alone!”
I watch it unfold all in slow motion. He’s trying. I know he is. And I love him for it—for standing between me and my sister—me and…myself. But here’s the thing… You can’t protect someone from a person you don’t know. Or people, for that matter. Not really.
Not when you remember the girl she pretended to be. The one who pulled you in with her charm and talent, who could turn danger into a dream. In a twisted way, that version of my sister was my favorite. She wore secrets like perfume, each one a layer of armor, each smile a knife. It’s how she survived. It’s how we both survived.
Dissociative identity disorder. You don’t live through what we did without becoming a master of survival.
Trust me, Gabriel has no fucking clue who he’s dealing with.
Only I do.
And still… I love her.
Even right now, as they stand together in the same body, neither willing to step aside.
She turns toward him with that smile—thatknife—and purrs. Chills crawl up my spine like fingers gripping each knob of bone.
“Mmm… I can see why he likes you, Gabriel. I mean, besides that gorgeous dick, of course.” Those brilliant-green eyes spark like fireworks, dancing with malice. Her fingertipstap, tap, tapagainst her phone case.
“So…twinkis your jam now, huh?” she says with a light laugh. “Honestly, I’m surprised… after that hunk of a man you were married to.”
Then her eyes slide over to me, slow and cruel. Calculating.
“Although my brother is certainly pretty, isn’t he?”
And just when I think it can’t get any worse, she releases my nightmare.
“Our father definitely thought so.”
