My wife trusts her brother completely. She’d die for the guy. Has already sacrificed everything for him.
And he’s been lying to her about everything.
What the hell part does Declan play in all of this?
“Are you okay?” Tierney asks when I sit back down.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just some business stuff I have to handle later.”
Connor glances up at me, and for a split second, I see something flicker in his eyes. Fear? Guilt? The look of someone who knows he’s been caught?
“Nothing serious, I hope,” he says.
I lift an eyebrow and pick up my wine glass. “We’ll see.”
The rest of dinner passes in a blur. I can’t think about anything other than what I just found out about Connor. Conversation is forced at best.
Connor gradually relaxes as the wine hits his system, but I can’t stop staring at him. The tension creeps up my spine and grabs hold of my throat.
Fuck, how the hell could he do this to Tierney? To put her in danger like this? To betray her trust and play her for a damn fool for God only knows how long?
He’s a fucking criminal, and good at it too, because she has no idea.
The innocent act, the grateful brother routine. If I hadn’t seen those photos, I’d never suspect a thing.
But now I can’t unsee it.
The careful answers, the practiced gratitude, the way he deflects when he’s pressed for details about his reasons for being here. He’s been playing all of us from the beginning.
Including his sister.
After we finish eating, Connor helps clear the dishes, and Tierney starts loading the dishwasher. It should be a normal end to a normal family dinner. Except nothing about this is normal anymore.
“I should head back to my place,” Connor says, checking his watch again. “Early day tomorrow.”
“Doing what?” I ask.
“Just...university stuff. Paperwork.”
More lies.
Tierney hugs him, says goodbye, and I watch her face the whole time. There’s love there, protective instincts, the way she holds him like he’s still the little brother she’s always taken care of.
She has no idea she’s hugging a liar. And I’m the one who has to tell her.
After Connor leaves, Tierney starts putting away leftovers.
“That was nice,” she says. “We should do it more often.”
“Yeah.”
“He seemed better tonight. Less stressed.”
“Did he?”
She gives me a sharplook. “You don’t think so?”
I could tell her now. Show her the photos, explain what Connor’s really been doing. Watch her world collapse.
