SORRY, SIS

"I don't want to stop the game, Vance," I whispered, arching my back slightly to press myself even closer to his heat. "I want to win it. And we both know you've already lost."

Vance’s dark gray eyes flared with a brief, dangerous flash of pure desire. His hand twitching on the counter told me he wanted nothing more than to erase the distance between our lips right then and there.

But his green-flag soul fought back.

With a ragged, heavy exhale, Vance violently pulled his hands away and stepped back. The sudden loss of his warmth made me shiver as I slid off the counter, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. He turned his back to me, running a hand through his neat black hair, trying desperately to piece his shattered composure back together.

"Enough," Vance growled, his voice rough but strict. "No more games. Starting tomorrow, it's a normal school week for you. I'm going to be monitoring your progress closely to make sure you're actually writing that valedictorian speech and prepping for prom. If I catch you slacking off or trying a stunt like this again, the deal is dead."

He grabbed his briefcase and marched out of the kitchen, retreating to the safety of the guest bedroom.

I stood alone in the quiet kitchen, a slow, entirely wicked smirk crawling onto my face. Let him monitor me. Let him think a school week will distract me.

Vance was still holding onto his loyalty to Maya like it was a shield. He honestly believed she was the prize he had to stay pure for. He had absolutely no idea that his precious, perfect girlfriend was actually a fraud.

My sister wasn't the loyal type. She never had been.

Two weeks ago, I had caught her in the alleyway behind the boutique market, wrapped in the arms of some random college guy, kissing him like her life depended on it while Vance was at work. I had kept quiet back then, storing the memory away like a weapon. And now, she was in Paris for the Stylist Awards with five full days of absolute, unmonitored freedom.

I walked up the stairs to my bedroom, locked the door, and pulled out my phone. If I wanted to fulfill Goal Number Three in my book—Make Vance see how poorly Maya treats him—I needed hard, undeniable proof.

I knew Maya had a private, secondary social media account. She used it to post the messy, unhinged parts of her life that she hid from her "perfect boyfriend."

I opened my laptop, cracked my knuckles, and went to work. I started digging through her friend groups, tracking down hidden, anonymous handles, and cross-referencing her friends' tags from the Paris flight. It took me less than an hour to find it: a locked, private profile with a fake name, but a very familiar silhouette in the display picture.

I leaned back against my pillows, my eyes gleaming with pure, toxic excitement as I stared at the request button.

She thought she was safe thousands of miles away in France. She didn't know her little brother was about to tear her perfect relationship to shreds.

I'm going to show him exactly who you are, Sis. And when he finally sees the truth, he's going to come running straight to me.