Page 67 of Arranged with Twins
“Shit.” She leans back in her chair. “That’s serious.”
“Or it’s complete fabrication designed to isolate me from my family.” I cross my arms. “Leo’s shown me bank records and phone transcripts, but I can’t verify any of it independently. How convenient that this evidence surfaces just when he wants me to move into his fortress permanently.”
The waitress brings Nadia’s cappuccino, and she takes a thoughtful sip before responding. “Sienna, honey, I love you, but when has Leo ever lied to you?”
I stare at her. “How would I know? We’ve only been engaged for a few months.”
“He could have let you remain in the mold your mother created, but he supported you in choosing your own style. He could have pretended the orange diamond engagement ring was his only choice instead of admitting he went back to get you something better. He could have?—”
Slightly shaken by her points, but still angry and clinging to the certainty this is all another tactic to control me, I interrupt her. “Those aren’t the same thing. This is about my family.”
“Exactly.” She sets down her cup and fixes me with a steady look. “Your family, who’s controlled every aspect of your life since birth. Your family, who arranged this marriage without asking what you wanted. Your family, who dismissed your friend’s wedding dress design because it didn’t fit their image.”
“That’s different?—”
“Is it?” She reaches across the table to touch my hand. “Sienna, your parents have never told you the truth about anything important. Why would they start now?”
The question sits between us while I struggle to find an answer. “Father wouldn’t sell out Leo to save himself, and he wouldn’t use me to take over his territory.” Even though I deny it, I’m not entirely sure I believe the words.
“Wouldn’t he?” Nadia’s voice is gentle but relentless. “When’s the last time Vincent put your interests ahead of his own?”
I open my mouth to respond, then close it. The truth is, I can’t remember a single instance where Father chose my happiness over his business interests or social standing. “What about when he sheltered Leo after his parents died?” I grasp for something that proves Father’s loyalty. “That was honorable.”
“That was nineteen years ago, and it was probably good business.” Nadia doesn’t soften her assessment. “Leo was the heir to a powerful syndicate. Helping him meant future connections and influence.”
Her words sting because they sound plausible. “You don’t know that.”
“I know your father.” She leans forward. “Remember when you wanted to major in fashion design instead of business? He threatened to cut off your tuition unless you chose something more ‘practical’ for the Cooper image.”
The memory makes my chest ache. I’d spent weeks researching programs, sketching designs, and dreaming of creatingsomething beautiful. Father dismissed it in thirty seconds. “That’s not the same as betraying Leo.”
“I don’t know.” Nadia tilts her head. “Both situations involve him prioritizing his needs over yours. The only difference is scale.”
I want to argue, but the parallels are uncomfortably clear. Father has never hesitated to sacrifice my preferences for his vision of what’s best for the family name.
“Look,” Nadia continues, “I’m not saying Leo’s right about everything. Maybe the evidence is fabricated, or maybe there’s another explanation, but if someone found proof that my father was endangering my life, I’d at least want to hear them out.”
“He’s had this information for weeks and didn’t tell me.” My voice cracks slightly. “He waited until I was deeper into the pregnancy and leaving would be harder.”
“Or maybe he waited until you were past the highest risk period for miscarriage.” Nadia’s suggestion makes me pause since it mirrors Leo’s claims. “You said yourself you’ve been exhausted and nauseated. Adding family betrayal to that stress could have been dangerous.”
“He should have trusted me to handle it.”
“Should he?” Nadia’s question is gentle but pointed. “You’re sitting here assuming the worst about his motives instead of considering he might be trying to protect you and the babies.”
I stare into my latte, watching the foam dissolve. She’s right, and I hate that she’s right. My first instinct was to assume manipulation rather than protection. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Then find out.” She squeezes my hand. “Talk to your father directly. Ask him about Adrian, about the money, and everything else. If Leo’s lying, Vincent will have answers.” She looks concerned. “Not that he’ll necessarily tell you the truth.”
I nod, unable to deny that possibility. “What should I do if Leo’s telling the truth?”
“You’ll know your father isn’t the man you thought he was, and you can decide what to do next.” Her expression softens. “Either way, you deserve to know.”
“I’m scared,” I say quietly. “What if everything I believed about my family is wrong?”
“It will suck, and you’ll have to decide who you want to be moving forward.” Nadia’s voice is warm but firm. “You can’t build a future on lies, even comfortable ones.”
The truth of her words resonate. “Leo built a nursery, with two cribs, toys, books, and everything else our children will need. He wants me to move in permanently and says my penthouse isn’t safe anymore.”
