Chapter 3

Calleigh POV:

"You think you' re so secure, don' t you?" Fiona' s voice was no longer a whisper. It was sharp, laced with a fury she didn' t bother to hide. "Just a little charity case they keep around for old times' sake. You don' t have a drop of Sampson blood in you. You' re nothing."

My own anger, a cold, hard thing, rose to meet hers. "I' m a Sampson in every way that matters," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "And you, Fiona? What are you, exactly? Besides my brother' s girlfriend of a few weeks?"

The barb hit its mark. Her face flushed a blotchy red. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but the sound of the study door opening cut her off.

Brock stepped out, his brow furrowed from whatever business talk he' d had with our father.

Instantly, Fiona' s entire demeanor changed. It was like watching a magic trick. The rage vanished, replaced by a mask of trembling vulnerability. Tears welled in her big blue eyes as she rushed to his side.

"Brock," she choked out, burying her face in his chest. "It was awful. She... she was so cruel to me."

I didn' t even have the energy to be shocked. I just felt a profound sense of disgust. I turned to walk away, to go up to my room and scrub the feeling of her off my skin.

"Calleigh."

Brock' s voice stopped me. It wasn' t angry, not yet, but it was weighted with a confusion that tilted toward accusation. I turned back slowly.

He was holding Fiona, stroking her hair as she sobbed. "What' s going on? Fiona' s really upset. She said you two had a fight."

He looked at me, expecting an explanation. An apology.

And over his shoulder, Fiona looked at me too. Her face was still buried in his shirt, but she lifted her head just enough for our eyes to meet. Her tears were gone. In their place was a look of pure, triumphant malice.

A wave of ice washed through my veins. He wasn' t going to believe me.

"Brock," I began, my voice tight. "She threatened me. She told me I should move out, that I don' t belong here."

I watched his face, praying for a flicker of understanding, of loyalty.

Instead, his brow just furrowed deeper. "Calleigh, come on. That doesn' t sound like Fiona at all. She' s just... a little insecure. She' s not used to our family dynamic. You have to admit, it' s a little unusual."

He was echoing her own words. The same poison, now delivered by the one person I thought would always be in my corner.

"Unusual?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "We' re a family. What' s unusual about that?"

"She didn' t mean it like that," he insisted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "She' s just trying to understand her place. Don' t be so hard on her."

I stared at him, at my brother, the boy who taught me to ride a bike and helped me with my calculus homework, now defending a woman he barely knew over me. The feeling of betrayal was so sharp, so sudden, it knocked the breath out of me.

I felt like he' d slapped me.

"I see," I said, my voice flat. I couldn' t look at him anymore. I couldn' t look at the triumphant smirk on Fiona' s face. I nodded once, a sharp, jerky movement. "Okay."

I turned and walked away, not looking back. Each step up the grand, curving staircase felt like a mile. I didn' t stop until I was in my room with the door locked behind me.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my heart a cold, heavy lump in my chest. The phone on my nightstand buzzed. It was my best friend, Maya.

How' s the new girlfriend? Demon or saint?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I typed back a single word.

Demon.

Instantly, my phone started ringing. I answered it.

"Okay, spill," Maya' s voice demanded, no preamble. "What did she do?"

The dam broke. The words came pouring out of me-the whispers of rumors, the condescending offer to find me an apartment, the outright denial of my place in my own family.

"-and Brock," I finished, my voice cracking. "He defended her. He told me I was being too sensitive."

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Then, Maya exploded.

"Are you KIDDING me? That manipulative, social-climbing, Grade-A BITCH!" The string of curses that followed was both creative and cathartic. "And Brock? What the hell is wrong with him? Is he blind? Deaf? Does he have cotton for brains?"

I managed a weak smile. "She' s very pretty, Maya."

"Oh, I don' t give a damn if she looks like a Victoria' s Secret angel who shits rainbows! She sounds like a venomous snake! A freeloader? Telling you to move out? She' s known you for five minutes! She' s the one who needs to get a grip on reality, not you!"

Hearing the outrage in her voice, so pure and undiluted, made me feel a little less crazy.

"He' s just infatuated," I said, trying to find an excuse for him, for me. "It' ll wear off."

"Calleigh," Maya said, her voice softening slightly. "This isn' t just infatuation. This is a five-alarm fire. This woman sees you as a threat, and she will burn this whole house down to get you out of it. You need to be careful."

I let out a long, shaky breath. "I know."

As I hung up the phone, the last of my hope that this was all a terrible misunderstanding evaporated, leaving behind a cold, hard certainty. Fiona wasn't just insecure. She was a predator. And she had just marked her territory.

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