<b>Chapter </b><b>585 </b>


    We stare at each other<b>, </b>me with shock, her with something I can’t quite name. Bitterness<b>? </b><b>Hatred</b><b>? </b>Or <b>maybe </b>both.


    When I used to hang out with Chloe, Brook was always there like an unavoidable shadow. The sisters had more inmon than they liked to admit, especially their behavior. Sometimes I wondered how <b>they </b>never shed, considering they had the same personality.


    When I decided to keep my distance from Chloe, naturally that applied to Brook. Brook and I have never been close and trust me, it’s not fromck of trying. Back then, I tried. God knows I did. Tried to be her friend, tried to make her ept me. But Brook always looked at me like I was gum stuck under her designer heels.


    I couldn’t force friendships and just like with Noah, I couldn’t force her to like me. Eventually, I stopped trying. You can only knock on a locked door so many times before you realize it’s never going to open.


    I was relieved when it all ended. There were no more forced smiles, fake greetings or brittle hellos. I felt at peace since I could be myself without having to people please.


    Obviously, Noah still took care of her. She was Chloe’s sister, his sister–inw, and if Noah Wood is anything, it’s loyal to a fault. Designer clothes, luxury cars, vacations most people only dream of, name it. Brook had it all. Chloe and Brook might’ve been orphans, but Noah spoiled them until the word “loss” was just a technicality.


    Even after Chloe died, it didn’t stop. I heard that Chloe made Noah promise, on her deathbed, that he would continue taking care of Brook… And Noah, being Noah, kept that promise. She graduated from one of the best and most expensive Universities, but she doesn’t work. She doesn’t have to. Not when Noah is still spoiling her. She lives off him, leeching onto him like she always has, and yet he calls me the leech. How ironical.


    I approach cautiously because, knowing Brook, her presence here doesn’t spell good things for me.


    I open my mouth to demand what she’s doing here, but instead nausea ms into me like a sucker


    punch. I shove past her, unlock my door with shaking hands, and barely make it to the bathroom before


    I’m hunched over the toilet and puking until my stomach burns.


    I haven’t thrown up since that day at the hospital. I was actually starting to think I might escape morning sickness. That I’ll be among the chosen few that don’t get affected. I guess the joke’s on me.


    When I’m done, I rinse my mouth, ssh cold water on my face, and step back into the living room only to find Brook inside my house, looking around like she just stepped into a trash dump.


    Honestly, I’ve never gotten how Noah never saw through Chloe and Brook. He thought they were angels;


    if only he knew what kind of people they are.


    Brook and Chloe were able to curate this innocent look that drew people to them. Most knew them as kind and generally good, but I know the truth. I know the kind of people they are behind <b>their </b><b>masks</b>.


    <b>“</b>What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I ask, my voice t. If she’s already invited herself in<b>, </b><b>the </b>least


    I can do is skip the fake pleasantries.


    “Nice little house you’ve got here,” shements, her eyes skimming the walls and the furniture.


    It’s the kind ofpliment that’s really an insult but it’s sugar–coated.


    “I thought with your cushy little job you’d be living somewhere bigger,” she adds with a smirk<b>, </b>aiming her words like sharp darts.


    <b>I </b>narrow my eyes. I should have expected this. She’s always been this way. A viper disguised in silk, wearing a smile while the fangs glint underneath.