Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
But I don’t call her.
I can’t cope with any more contact with her tonight—not when I’m still reeling. Instead, I type out a message, my fingers hesitating over each word, careful to keep it steady, brotherly.
I hit send, the message is a lifeline I’m not sure I deserve. Then I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I still have to have dinner with Sara and Jason.
And I have to pretend to be normal.
Chapter
Eight
AMELIA
The house feels like a tomb tonight, its grand halls falling cold and silent, swallowed by shadows as the last of the funeral guests departed.
I sit on the edge of my bed, the lavender quilt bunched around my shoulder, the stillness pressing against my ears like a held breath. My black dress has been replaced by an old T-shirt that hangs loose on my frame, its faded cotton a small but familiar comfort against this new sorrow in my heart. The day—Dad’s coffin, the crowd’s murmurs, Max’s touch—clings to me like a cold fog.
Will I really live in this big, cold house alone for the rest of my life?
My phone buzzes on the nightstand and jolts me from my haze. I reach for it sluggishly. It will only be another condolence text from someone who has not bothered to turn up for the funeral. But the number is unfamiliar, the message lighting up the screen. With a frown, I start reading the message which makes my heart jump.
Amelia, I know you might be unsure about Sara's invitation today, but I want you to know I’m on board. I’d love for you to spend time with us. Having family around will be good for you, and I want to do anything I can to help you through this loss. Perhaps it is time for us to get closer as a family. Think about it, please. - Max
I stare at the words, my breath catching, a mix of surprise and uncertainty swirling in my chest. Max, texting me? The idea feels surreal, like a dream I’m not sure I want to wake from. His words are careful, brotherly, but they stir something deeper as always.
He’s not my half-brother, not anything—but he doesn’t know that, and the secret is a stone in my heart, heavy and immovable.
Sara’s innocent invitation in the kitchen shocked me; her warmth was unexpected, but Max’s support shocked me more. I saw the flash of anger in his eyes when she spoke, the way his jaw tightened like he was holding back a storm. I thought he’d want me to reject it, keep the distance we’ve both clung to for years. But this message, this quiet urging, feels like a hand reaching through the dark, but I don’t know if I can take it.
I know what he doesn’t. I know our situation is a pile of tinder. One careless move and it is all going up in flames, and there will be nothing left but ashes.
My fingers hover over the screen, trembling, but I don’t reply. Not yet. I set the phone down, my heart racing, and lean back against the headboard, the wood cool against my back. The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. My gaze drifts to the stack of magazines on my dresser—Max’s face on every cover, a reminder of the life he’s built without me. I am happy for him, proud of the empire he’s carved out of nothing, but I can’t stop this ache in my chest, this pull toward a man I can’t have. Max’s words linger, offering a closeness I’ve craved for fourteen years, even if it’s under a lie he still believes.
The truth Dad gave me—Max isn’t family—should have freed me. We did nothing wrong after all. But it only traps me further, because I still can’t have him. He’s married with a son. Even if I had contemplated telling him before, I can’t do it anymore. Jason is such a sweet and sensitive kid it will break his little heart if I hurt his mother.
I need to think, to clear the fog, so I grab my phone and dial Ellie, my friend since high school, one of the few who have stayed close. She picks up on the second ring, her voice warm but tinged with concern.
“Amelia? Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” I reassure her.
I sink deeper into the pillows. The warmth of her voice chases away the cold shadows. “Or maybe I’m not. I don’t know,” I admit, my voice rough from holding back tears. “It’s been… a lot. I... just got a text from Max, and it’s messing with my head.”
“Max?” Ellie’s tone shifts, curious, almost teasing. “As in, your super-hot, billionaire half-brother Max? The one with the perfect wife and kid who had everyone at the funeral whispering?”