His Sister, His Child, My Escape

At the wedding rehearsal dinner in a luxurious Manhattan hotel, my fiancé Jeffrey Blackwood's adopted sister, Carina Blackwood, suddenly turned pale and nearly fainted.

Panic-stricken, he swept her into his arms and, ignoring the sea of stunned faces, rushed her to a private clinic.

Half an hour later, he called, his voice eerily calm. "Carina's pregnant."

I opened my mouth to ask, but he cut me off.

"It's mine," he said, his tone flat. "It was a drunken mistake."

"This stays between us. Not a word to the media or our families. I'll handle it. We'll figure out what to do after the baby is born."

"The wedding is postponed. You're the hostess. You need to go out there and manage the guests."

My throat tightened, and I couldn't utter a single syllable.

He then added, "Oh, and put that San Francisco Museum of Art project on hold for now. Go stay with Carina. Her emotions have been all over the place, and we can't risk anything happening."

A dry laugh escaped me. "Alright."

He seemed satisfied with my answer and hung up.

But what he didn't know was that Eric Monroe and I had a pact: if I wasn't married by my thirtieth birthday, I would marry him.

And today was my thirtieth birthday.

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1

I was unnervingly calm, not a single accusation passing my lips. The moment I hung up, Jeffrey called again.

"Alice, I'm sorry. This is my fault, I know. But you have to believe me, I only see Carina as my sister. The baby was a mistake."

I curled my lips into a sarcastic smile, staring at my reflection in the mirror—flawlessly made up, with dead, hollow eyes. "How touching. I had no idea you two were that close."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by his weary sigh.

"I know you're angry. Take it out on me, fine. But Carina is still in school. Unwed and pregnant... if word got out who the father is..."

"She was an orphan when my parents adopted her. They gave her our name, but you know the rest of the family would never accept a scandal like this. If the media gets ahold of it, her life is over."

"So I expect you to be the bigger person here. Accept this child, and we'll raise it as our own after we're married. That way, no one will ever know."

I tilted my head back to stifle the sting in my eyes, my voice hoarse. "Jeffrey, let's call off the engagement."

"Call it off?" He paused, then his voice dropped into an angry roar. "Alice, stop being ridiculous! Weren't you the one so eager for this wedding?"

"All of New York knows you're my fiancée! What is marriage to you, a game? Alice, when did you become so damn impulsive?"

I could picture him now, his brows knitted in frustration. Sure enough, his threat came next.

"Alice Hayes, I'm asking you one last time. This wedding is tied to a nine-figure business partnership between our families. Are you really going to throw that away?"

My fingers clenched the phone, knuckles white. I forced a bitter smile. "That's right. I don't want you anymore, Jeffrey."

He let out a cold laugh. "I don't have time for these games. Do whatever you want."

The line went dead.

I stood in the center of the banquet hall. Amid the astonished gasps of the crowd, I ripped the expensive antique hairpiece from my hair, letting it clatter to the floor as I turned and fled.

Jeffrey's parents moved to block my path. Harrison Blackwood spoke first, his voice sharp.

"Alice, what is the meaning of this? Jeffrey takes Carina to a clinic, and you throw a tantrum that ruins the entire evening? You want to make the Blackwood family a laughingstock?"

Eleanor Blackwood snorted.

"I said from the start you two were a poor match. The Blackwoods are a legacy in New York architecture. Your family is just nouveau riche from the West Coast. You have no class. I never understood what Jeffrey saw in you. He was marrying down."

"But he insisted, so I relented. And now, we get this humiliating spectacle!"

Harrison Blackwood sneered.

"Fine! Don't marry him. Better that than have your temper cost the Blackwood family its century-old reputation."

Despite Jeffrey's vile betrayal, his parents directed all their fury at me.

I clutched the fallen hairpiece, my fingertips trembling. "Jeffrey is the one who postponed the wedding indefinitely. As for why, you should ask him. Some things... are just too filthy to be spoken aloud."

Hearing it was Jeffrey's decision, they grew bolder.

"Even so, as his fiancée, you don't just run off! Where is your dignity?"

"What did your parents teach you? You don't have the first clue about social graces. How could you ever be fit to be the matriarch of this family?"

I took a deep breath, my gaze turning sharp. "I will not marry into the Blackwood family. Not now, not ever. If you're finished, please step aside."

"You!" Their faces twisted, clearly shocked that the girl who had always swallowed her pride to please them was now standing up for herself.

I ignored them, striding past and heading for the hotel bar on the first floor.

"No breeding whatsoever!" Eleanor Blackwood shrieked at my back.

In the bar, someone was already waiting.

A well-tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs. The dim light from the bar highlighted the sharp line of his jaw.

Only the faint shadows under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion; he hadn't been sleeping well.

Seeing me, he straightened up, crossing his arms and flashing that familiar, roguish smile.

I looked away, hiding the redness rimming my eyes. "Last I heard, a certain someone swore he wouldn't be caught dead at my wedding."

He leaned in close, his scent a clean mix of cedarwood, his warm breath ghosting over my ear.

The moment our eyes met, I was transported back ten years, to the cocky, charismatic boy I once knew.

"Alice, a bet's a bet."

I pressed my lips together, silent.

He grew anxious, his voice rising. "Don't tell me you forgot! I still have the napkin with our thumbprints locked in my safe!"

"I don't care what just happened with him," he cut in. "Three days. Las Vegas. We're getting married. If you don't show..." He paused, then threw caution to the wind. "I'll fly to California and drag you there myself!"

With that, as if terrified to hear me say no, he pushed a martini toward me, spun on his heel, and vanished from the bar, leaving a single sentence hanging in the air: "I'll be waiting in the car."

I picked up the glass and let out a choked laugh as a single tear fell into the drink.

That fool. Of course, I remembered the pact from our college graduation.

Our families were old friends. We had grown up together, so close that the thought of romance between us felt impossible.

Ten years ago, he'd confessed his feelings, and I'd told him we were better as friends.

Hurt, he'd insisted on this ridiculous bet.

I never thought I'd be the one to lose.