Page 1 of Cruel Hero

Chapter 1

Olivia

The night our parents died, I didn’t shed a tear.

I sat in the sterile hospital waiting room, clutching Tiffany’s small hand. She was just a child, her wide blue eyes filled with confusion and fear, while I, at sixteen, knew our lives were about to change forever. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the pale walls and the cold plastic chairs.

I remember the doctor’s somber face as he approached us, his words slow and deliberate, as if he thought softening the blow might make it hurt less.

It didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We did everything we could.”

Tiffany’s grip on my hand tightened, her tiny fingers trembling. She looked up at me, searching for answers I didn’t have. I didn’t cry—not then, not when the police came to ask questions, and not when Uncle Dean took us home. I couldn’t. Someone had to be strong for Tiffany. Someone had to hold the pieces together.

But that night, when I finally lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise to our deceased parents. I vowed to keep Tiffany safe, to shield her from the darkness that seemed to seep into every corner of our lives. I would be her protector, her guiding light, no matter the cost. Even if it meant burying my grief and fear deep within me.

Little did I know that this promise would lead me years later to reach for my soon-to-be husband’s hand, readying myself for a reunion dinner that would test the very limits of my acting skills.

Alexander Hawthorne, my fiancé, casts a sidelong glance in my direction as our car glides to a smooth stop in front of After Hours, a popular bar in the heart of Empire Heights owned by his family. The neon lights cast a soft glow on the sidewalk, illuminating the faces of the people waiting in line. I smooth down my little black dress, feeling the weight of my mother’s pearl necklace against my collarbone.

We bypass the line, nodding to the bouncer, who immediately steps aside. Inside, the bar thrums with energy. The low lighting and sultry jazz music create an atmosphere of intimacy, despite the crowd.

It’s a perfect place for my sister to meet my new fiancé—the man she doesn’t know was promised to her—for the first time.

“Are you ready?” Alexander’s voice is low, meant only for me.

I nod, though my stomach churns with unease. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

His expression softens, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my cheek as he leans in to press a tender kiss to my forehead.

“It’s going to be fine,” he murmurs against my skin. “We’re in this together.”

I allow myself a moment to pretend this is real, that Alexander’s tenderness is born from genuine affection rather than our carefully orchestrated arrangement. He makes it easy—his hand skates down my side, his touch sending shivers through my body. He brings his face closer; his breath is warm against my skin, his lips tantalizingly close to mine.

“Your sister is looking at us.” Alexander’s lips graze mine as he nods subtly toward the VIP section where Tiffany sits.

I follow his gaze, and there she is—my little sister. Her heart-shaped face, messy blond curls, and big blue eyes are as familiar to me as my own reflection. But even from across the room, I can tell she’s not her usual bright self. Her posture is tense, her fingers nervously twisting the stem of her wine glass.

It’s been two weeks since Tiffany came back from her business trip, and she’s been a different person ever since. Moody, short-tempered, and emotionally distant. I gave her space, thinking she needed time to recover from her travels and process my sudden engagement. But every time I try to broach the subject, she changes the topic or makes an excuse. It’s unlike her, and it gnaws at me, adding to the pit of unease in my stomach.

“Are you still worried about her?” Alexander asks.

I nod. “She’s been off lately. I can’t shake the feeling that something happened on that trip.”

His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer. To anyone watching, we look like a couple deeply in love. “We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s focus on getting through this dinner.”

We make our way to the VIP section, weaving through the crowd. As we approach, Tiffany pastes on a bright smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and rises from her seat, her movements stiff and deliberate, like she’s forcing herself to go through the motions.

“Tiffany, hi.” I lean to kiss her cheek. “You look pretty tonight.” I wrap one of her curls around my finger. “Just like an angel.”

She stiffens at my words, her smile faltering. “Thanks, Liv. You look beautiful as always.” Her gaze lingers on Alexander. “And you must be the famous fiancé.”

Alexander steps forward, his charm on full display as he takes Tiffany’s hand and brings it to his lips. “Alexander Hawthorne. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tiffany. Olivia has told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” he says, gesturing to the plush booth. “Shall we?”

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