[ESTELLE]
After nearly a week of radio silence, Damien finally ca back.
I’d like to say I didn’t count the days—but I did. Six days, nineteen hours, and a handful of anxiety-induced sleepless nights.
I tried to keep myself calm, tried not to imagine him running off to find Kelsey or catching so spontaneous amnesia and forgetting about altogether. But when the man you love just vanishes, even your reflection on the mirror starts side-eyeing you like, "Girl, you sure he’s coming back?"
Then suddenly, just like that, Damien walked through the door of the penthouse apartnt he had insisted I stay in.
I didn’t know whether to yell at him or throw myself into his arms.
He looked exhausted—ssy hair, stubble like he fought a bear and won, and those signature Frizkiel eyes, sharp yet tired. But then he gave that boyish half-smile, the one that made lt when I first saw it.
"We found her," he said, voice low.
"Who?" I blinked. Then paused. "Wait—who?!" He’d been gone for an entire week—no calls, no ssages, not even a half-hearted "I’m alive." And when he finally walked through the door, the first thing out of his mouth was, "We found her." No explanation, no apology. Just that.
"My sister."
Boom. Bomb drop. My brain rebooted.
He didn’t say it with drama or fanfare. Just casually, like he’d found a long-lost sock behind the washing machine. Except this sock was a sister, a literal blood-relative Frizkiel heir, and apparently, the news was big enough to have kept him away for almost a week.
"Turns out she’s alive. She’s been living under a different na this whole ti, and in a different country. Avery faraway country."
I didn’t know whether to cry or grab my things and run.
I an, yay for family reunions, truly! But also . . . this was my mont, wasn’t it? I’d finally made Damien fall for . We were finally a couple. We even kissed goodbye before he left—granted it was rushed, but it counted. And now he ca back with a long-lost sister? My carefully laid wedding plans were sweating in their Pinterest board.
Still, I smiled. Because I was supportive. I was loyal. I was going to be his wife, damn it.
So, of course, I accompanied him to the official event. The one where his newly found sister would be nad part of the Frizkiel line. I imagined eting the whole family, finally getting the royal stamp of approval. I’d spent months pretending not to be interested in their beautiful genese, their power, their near god-like presence in Frizkiel. But let’s be real. I was ready.
Everything started smoothly enough.
The mansion was bigger than my last five apartnts combined. Golden chandeliers, ancient tapestries, sculptures that probably had their own insurance policies—this place scread old money, and I was about to be part of it.
Well, I was already an old money myself, but still . . .
I wore my best dress, naturally. Classy but with just enough cleavage to remind Damien what he had. My hair was curled to perfection, my makeup airbrushed within an inch of its life. I’d even practiced my "soon-to-be Frizkiel" smile in the mirror. Sophisticated. Slightly bored. With a hint of I-own-an-island confidence.
But then I realized sothing weird.
I was . . . alone.
Damien wasn’t beside . I spotted him across the room with his brothers, looking dashing as ever. But he was with soone—his sister, I assud. Only I hadn’t been introduced yet. I stood by the marble bar like an accessory soone forgot to pick up.
To make things worse, Kelsey was there.
Oh, yes. Miss "My Career Cos First But I Still Show Up Where I’m Not Wanted" had slithered in wearing a red satin dress that clung to her like betrayal. She gave that innocent look, like "Oh! Fancy seeing you here!" Ma’am. Please. You knew exactly what you were doing.
I kept my cool. Sipped my champagne. Practiced breathing. Plotted at least three different ways to trip her accidentally-on-purpose.
Then the mont ca.
The crowd hushed. A spotlight hit the grand staircase. And down they ca.
First, Eric Frizkiel—black-haired, regal, and terrifyingly handso for soone’s dad. Then ca his sons: Damien, Dante, and Dean. Each one looking like a different flavor of heartbreak. Seriously, it was illegal. The suits, the confidence, the slow, synchronized walk—it was like a damn shampoo comrcial. People around swooned. I swear one woman fainted.
Then ca Evangeline—the queen herself. She walked like she owned gravity. That was the mother, I reminded myself. My future mother-in-law. I straightened up, ready to impress.
And then . . .
Then ca her.
To her right, a woman appeared.
And not just any woman.
Long legs, perfect skin, hair that glowed like it had its own lighting team. She descended the stairs like a goddess. Every step scread elegance. People stared, whispered. Caras flashed.
I squinted. Tilted my head.
No.
No. No. No way.
My mouth dropped open like a fish in shock. I forgot how to hold my champagne glass. It tipped over. Soone gasped. I didn’t care.
It was her.
Eve Rosette.
Except that wasn’t her real na anymore.
She was introduced as Evangeline Cole Frizkiel.
The long-lost sister.
The one Dean had found.
The one I knew, and was dating my cousin Cole.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place like a badly written soap opera twist. My entire spine went stiff. I’d seen dramas like this, sure. But living it? Wild. Absolutely wild.
What kind of power move was that?!
And ?
I was just standing there.
A side character in my own love story.
A clown.
A hopeful, romantically delusional clown in five-inch heels.
I laughed—out loud. A tiny, slightly manic giggle that earned so strange looks. I covered it quickly with a cough and reached for another drink.
I don’t know what shook more—the fact that Damien had found his long-lost sister . . . or that she was Eve.
Just when I thought I had Damien wrapped around my little finger, the universe threw this glittering bomb at .
And now . . . how to approach, Eve, my future sister in-law.
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