Page 2 of Cruel Hero

We slide into the seats, Tiffany across from us, her fingers drumming lightly against the table as she glances between Alexander and me.

“So,” she begins, the dim light catches the shadows under her eyes, “how did you two meet? Olivia’s told me a lot about you, but she didn’t elaborate on how you roped her into settling down within two weeks of you meeting each other.”

Alexander leans back in his seat, his arm casually draped over the back of the booth behind me. “We met at a gala. Our eyes locked across the room, and I knew I had to meet her. It was... magnetic. Your sister makes it impossible for anyone to look away.”

“Did you sweep her off her feet, or did she have to chase you?”

“Oh, I did the chasing. Olivia is far too composed to be the one running after anyone.” His hand finds mine on the table, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that feels both possessive and protective. “But once I caught her, I knew I’d never let go.”

The words should sound rehearsed, part of the script we agree to play out for the world. But there is something in his voice—a sincerity that makes my chest tighten. I glance at him, but he remains focused on Tiffany, his expression unreadable save for the faint curve of his lips.

Tiffany leans back in her seat, her gaze darting between us like she is trying to piece together a puzzle. “That’s... romantic,” she says slowly, though her tone suggests she isn’t entirely convinced. “I just didn’t expect you to move so fast.”

Alexander’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand, a small, reassuring gesture that feels more intimate than it should. “When you know, you know. Olivia and I… we didn’t want to waste time pretending otherwise.”

Tiffany’s fingers tighten around her wine glass. She takes another sip, her lips pressing together in a thin line. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, until she finally exhales and sets the glass down with a soft clink.

“I’m glad you’re happy. There’s nothing more important than that.”

There’s something in her tone that makes my heart clench.

“We should raise a toast to finding happiness where we least expect it. I’ll get us some champagne,” Alexander suggests, giving me a loaded look. “And you two can catch up.” He rises and his hand brushes the small of my back before he disappears into the crowd, leaving Tiffany and me alone.

I study my sister for a moment, the way her shoulders are hunched slightly, her gaze fixed on the table as she traces the rim of her wine glass with her fingertip. She’s always been so open, so easy to read, but now there’s a wall between us, one I don’t know how to scale.

I reach across the table, placing my hand over hers. “Tiff, is everything okay? You know you can talk to me, right?”

For a moment, it seems like she might open up. Her lips part, and I see a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes—a crack in the armor she’s been wearing since her return. But then she shakes her head, pulling her hand away and forcing another smile. “I’m fine,” she says quickly, too quickly. “Just tired from the trip and still adjusting to... all of this.” She gestures vaguely between Alexander and me.

“What do you think about Alexander?” I ask, instead of pushing for a real answer.

“Alexander seems nice. Charming, funny, handsome... The way you look at each other speaks volumes, Liv. It’s like there’s an unspoken connection between the two of you. It’s like you found your missing piece.”

I try not to frown. My sister has always been intuitive, but this time, her observation couldn’t be further from the truth. My happiness with Alexander is a farce, a carefully constructed lie that we’ve convinced everyone to believe in, and seeing Tiffany’s hopeful expression, her eyes filled with relief and genuine joy for me, makes my heart ache with guilt. I should come clean, tell her the truth about Alexander and me. But the fear of losing her and breaking her trust in me holds me back.

So I smile back at Tiffany and say, “Your approval means the world to me. Alexander makes me happy, more than I thought possible.”

“I’m happy for you. I really am. But I’m also jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of how in love you are.” Tiffany’s smile fades. “I want what you have. I want someone to care for me the way Alexander does for you. I want to feel that unspoken connection, that sense of completeness you have found with him.”

“You will find that, love. You’re gorgeous, sweet, and kind.” I cup her face. “Don’t rush it. The right person will come along when the time is right. And they will be just as lucky to have you in their life as I am to have you in mine.”

My sister’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and she leans to hug me, resting her cheek on my shoulder as we sit there in a tight embrace. I feel her silent sobs against my shoulder.

“I want it now, Liv,” she whispers, her voice filled with a raw honesty that pierces my heart. “Ineedit now.”

Rubbing her back, I wonder where this strange desperation is coming from. It’s not like her to be this emotional, especially not over something like dating. But she’s hurting, and whatever is wrong, I must fix it.

“We’ll find you someone,” I promise, running my fingers through her hair. “I can set you up with one of my new artists. He’s very good-looking and very charming. He’ll have you swooning within minutes of meeting him.”

Lucas Bowler, Millhouse Gallery’s newest addition, is indeed charming and handsome, with a quiet intensity that draws people in. He has a way of making anyone feel seen, his words carefully chosen, his laughter genuine. I see him work his magic at the gallery, effortlessly captivating everyone who crosses his path. If anyone can make Tiffany forget whatever is haunting her, it’s him.

Tiffany’s arms tighten around me, and she nods, her breath hitching. “Yes, dating could help.”

Help with what?I want to ask, but I bite the inside of my cheek and hold back the question. Whatever Tiffany is going through, she doesn’t want to share it yet, and I need to respect that.

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