Chapter 2 Crocodile Tears

ALEXIS

"I'm sorry big sister, he-!"

"The day I saw you in that disgusting state with my shameless husband, that day, you ceased to be my blood!" The words burned like acid on my tongue, but I spat them out anyway. The crystal chandelier above us cast harsh shadows across Abigail's tear-stained face, and for a moment, I didn't recognize the woman kneeling before me.

She scrambled forward, her designer pajamas – ones I'd bought her last Christmas – dragging across the marble floor as she grabbed at my legs. "No please sister, I can explain!"

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. This was the same little sister I'd cradled during thunderstorms, the same girl whose dreams I'd championed when everyone else dismissed them as frivolous. How many strings had I pulled to get her into that exclusive fashion school? How many nights had I stayed up, reviewing her portfolios, connecting her with industry contacts?

The day our parents died, I'd made her a promise while we stood beside their fresh graves. "I'll take care of you," I'd sworn, holding her trembling hands in mine. "No matter what." The memory twisted like a knife in my chest. I'd given her everything – a home in this mansion, the finest education money could buy, every luxury she'd ever wanted.

Now she was on her knees, mascara running down her cheeks, looking every bit the victim she wasn't.

"Get those filthy fingers off me!" I yanked away from her grasp, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. Her wails echoed through the marble foyer as I ascended the grand staircase, each step taking me further from the sister I thought I knew.

Logan was nowhere to be seen – probably fled after destroying everything we'd built together. One year and four months of marriage, gone in an instant. A marriage I'd never wanted, forced upon me by parents who'd somehow fallen under Logan's spell. If only they could see their precious son-in-law now, I thought bitterly. If only they'd listened when I'd begged them not to make me marry him.

Our bedroom – no, the crime scene – looked deceptively normal. The California king bed with its rumpled Egyptian cotton sheets seemed to mock me. Every luxury item in this room, from the artisan wallpaper to the hand-carved furniture, now felt tainted. I collapsed onto the leather chaise lounge, staring at the wall where we'd hung our wedding portrait.

A tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. I wiped it away roughly. "Crying won't change anything," I whispered to myself, but my heart wasn't listening.

A knock at the door made me jump. "Go away!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "Just leave!"

"Sister, please hear me out." Abigail's voice, soft and pleading. "Your food is ready. We can talk about this. I'm sorry, big sister."

I reached for my noise-canceling headphones, selecting Dolly Parton's "What a Heartache" – how fitting. As the music filled my ears, memories flooded my mind: how I'd fought against loving Logan, how he'd slowly worn down my defenses, how I'd finally given him my heart thinking he was different.

And my parents – how had he convinced them to will him everything? Their entire legacy, handed over to a snake in designer suits. My phone buzzed repeatedly with Logan's calls, each one ignored as exhaustion finally pulled me under.

I woke still curled on the chaise, my jumpsuit wrinkled, my mouth dry. The antique clock on the wall showed 5 AM – how had the night passed so slowly? I forced myself through my morning routine, every movement mechanical, every reflection in the bathroom mirror a stranger.

By 6:30, I was rushing downstairs, already late for work. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold: Logan and Abigail on the sofa, still intimate, still shameless. Something in me snapped.

I lunged forward, grabbing Abigail's ear between my fingers. "So you still have the guts, huh... Abigail?"

The slap came out of nowhere, Logan's hand connecting with my cheek with enough force to make me stagger. "Don't you dare lay your filthy finger on my girl!" he roared.

My hand flew to my burning cheek, disbelief making my voice tremble. "You... You... slapped... me?"

"And I'll do it again if you don't leave this minute!" Logan's eyes were cold, foreign. This wasn't the man I'd married – or maybe it was, and I'd just never seen him clearly before.

"And for your information, big sister," Abigail's voice dripped with venom as she straightened herself, no longer playing the role of repentant sister. "I've waited for this day. A day you'll kneel before me, pay for stealing all mom and dad's love. Their precious, perfect daughter!" She laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. "You were their favorite while I was trash. And you? You're just like them – always criticizing, always looking down on me, making me your slave in this house!"

"Watch your tongue, Abi-"

"Hold it! I'm still talking!" Her eyes blazed with years of hidden resentment. "You loved your precious job so much you abandoned our family company – mom and dad's legacy! You were never worthy of being the heir. You're lucky you're still breathing. Just thank Logan, if not..."

Logan cut her off with a raised hand, his smile cruel. "No need to waste breath on her. She'll sign the papers tomorrow, or she'll learn what real pain feels like."

A chill ran through me, but it wasn't his threat that froze my blood – it was the realization that my sister, my baby sister, had been plotting my destruction all along. I walked out with my head high, my heels clicking against the marble floor, each step taking me further from the ruins of my family.

If I had eaten the food she prepared last night... The thought made me shudder. My sister's words echoed in my mind: "You're lucky you're still breathing." What exactly had I escaped?

As I slid behind the wheel of my car, one hand unconsciously moving to my stomach where my secret still grew, I knew with crystal clarity: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.