Ninety-Nine Engagements, One Betrayal

na

ing towards me. I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, perhaps s

rowd, momentarily stunned by the power outage, erupted into chatter. In the sudden surge

hielding her from the throng, his hand firm on her back. His concern fo

the "seek your soulmate" game. The prize: a painting. A significant w

field, vibrant and bursting with life, painted with an unmistakable style. My sister' s style.

, my voice trembl

ing. "And the artist, the 'master' herself, will pe

he 'master'? Ava had

Everleigh had worn. The mask, the tie pin, the confident stance. It was Everleigh. Standing ther

athed, my mind reelin

ating my sister. Stealing her

crowd, an incoherent cry forming in my throat. "She's

n seared through my head. The room spun. The sound

g arms caught me. A familiar scent-Bro

tered through the heavy curtains. Brooks was sitting at his desk, his lapt

sister' s painting. Everleigh' s brazen lies. I tried to

pushing me back down. "Easy, Dayna. You

don't care about a fever! Everleigh! She's lying! S

yes that had always listened to my endless chatter without judgment

ible shift in his gaze. Not surprise. Not denial. But some

ed space filled with her unfinished canvases, her paints, her soul. I had shown him her favorite brushes, explained her uni

ring from my throat. "Why, Brooks

ide table, picked up a glass of water and a pill

What kind of twisted game are you playing?" My voice was rising, raw with pain and indig