Chapter 3

ELISHA’S POV

As I watched Anthony place Natalie into the backseat of his SUV, I became aware of a burning, dull pain radiating up my arm. My palm throbbed with a strange heat, and I glanced down.

Blood.

A deep gash tore across the flesh of my palm. 

It must’ve happened when Anthony shoved me away—when I stumbled backward into the shattered plate on the floor.

He didn’t notice. He hadn’t even looked back.

I quietly walked to the downstairs powder room, found the first-aid kit beneath the sink, and sat on the edge of the toilet, cleaning the wound myself. 

Antiseptic stung like betrayal. I wrapped it in gauze as tightly as I could and gritted my teeth against the pain.

The house was too quiet now.

Too still.

Just as I tossed the bloodstained tissues into the bin, my phone buzzed.

Anthony: WE’RE AT MONTGOMERY COLLEGE HOSPITAL. COME.

That was it.

No explanation. No apology. No, Are you okay?

Just a command, like I was a secretary summoned to the next crisis.

***

The hospital was familiar. Sterile. Bright. Overwhelming.

I walked the hall slowly, ignoring the tight ache in my hand. 

Room 205. I stopped just short of the door.

Through the glass, I saw Natalie curled into Anthony’s chest, tears glistening on her cheeks. His hand ran soothingly through her hair. 

He said something, and she laughed softly, even as she wiped her face.

My heart ached.

They looked so… natural.

As if this was how it had always been. 

I reached for the door, my fingers grazing the handle.

Then my phone rang.

Dominic. My brother.

I stepped away from the door and answered. “Hey.”

“Where are you?” his voice snapped through the line.

“At the hospital. Nat’s in College Hospital on Phil’s Street—”

“I know that,” he cut in. “I meant where are you in your head? Why aren’t you taking care of her?”

The question landed like a slap. 

Dominic had been my partner-in-crime growing up. My protector. He taught me how to drive before I had a license. Covered for me when I came home drunk. Sat with me through my first heartbreak.

But ever since Natalie returned… he’d changed. Just like the others. 

“I didn’t know she was allergic to anything in the dish—” I began.

“You owe her,” he said bluntly. “You know that, right?”

The words sliced deeper than the glass.

After the call ended, I stood frozen, the memory of every whispered comment flashing in my mind. 

How people stopped introducing me as “the Montgomery daughter” and started calling me “the adopted one.” How cousins took Natalie’s side in arguments without knowing the full story. How someone at a dinner once asked if I felt guilty for “living her life.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe I had stolen everything.

And maybe, in the end, I deserved to lose it.

I looked up again. Anthony was still holding her.

Does he think the same? That I stole her happiness?

Just then, the door opened, and a doctor stepped out, clipboard in hand. He blinked, surprised to see me.

“Mrs. Möller? You’re her sister, yes? Come in.”

I walked in stiffly.

Natalie immediately sat up, flustered. “My head was hurting,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Anthony was just helping me relax.”

Anthony didn’t say a word.

But his eyes dropped to my bandaged hand, frowning as he noticed it for the first time. I quickly hid it behind my back.

The doctor glanced at his notes. “Well, Miss Montgomery,” he said, addressing Natalie, “you’ve had an allergic reaction. Looks like you can’t have chicken eggs.” 

Natalie nodded, looking perfectly tragic. “I know that already. I told the family I was allergic to eggs after I came back… but my sister was married and living separately. She probably didn’t know.”

She turned to Anthony and gave him a soft smile. “Don’t blame her. It’s not her fault.”

My brows furrowed.

I hadn’t used eggs. Not in the potpie and not in the dessert. It must have been something else entirely… either that, or Natalie was lying. 

“You want to be more careful, Miss Natalie,” the doctor continued. “Especially since you’re eating for two now!” 

I looked at the doctor, confused. “What?” 

He smiled at me. “Your sister… she’s pregnant! You didn’t know?” 

Natalie smiled at me, while Anthony looked… guilty. 

He knew. 

He’d known all along, and as usual, I looked like a fool in front of my sister. 

“I—I don’t understand,” I said. “Nat doesn’t even have a boyfriend.” 

The doctor cleared his throat, clearly sensing the tension. 

“Well,” he said, closing the folder with his notes. “I will give you some privacy.” 

I could hardly blame him for wanting to leave. I didn’t want to be there myself. I looked at Natalie with a raised eyebrow, willing her to explain. 

“I don’t know…” she shrugged. “It must’ve happened at Dominic’s birthday. We’d all had too many tequila shots and Anthony was kind enough to take me back home and settle me down.” 

“Settle you down?” I asked, my voice higher than I’d expected. 

She smiled as she lightly touched Anthony’s arm. “Well, you know Anthony, he always makes sure you’re okay. He carried me upstairs and made sure I was well hydrated and—” 

I raised my hand, signaling her to stop. My thoughts were running faster than I could catch up to them, and I felt heat radiate through my chest. 

“Anthony… is Natalie carrying your child?”