He Played Weak, I Fought Back

My biological sister, Anya, slowly lowered the cold towel in her hand.

Water dripped onto the marble floor.

She looked down. Anywhere but at Liam.

Mom just stood there, opening and closing her mouth.

Then she rushed after me.

"Dinner's not ready yet. Why don't you go relax in your room?"

Her voice had softened.

Gary caught the look on her face and led me upstairs.

The room at the end of the hall faced north. Thin curtains. Empty closet. No sheets on the mattress.

A water stain stretched from a crack in the ceiling to the baseboard.

On the way up, a maid passed with a tea tray. Gary lowered his voice.

"Liam said this room was quiet. Thought it'd be perfect for you."

I opened my canvas duffel.

Two T-shirts. One pair of jeans. One pair of canvas sneakers.

At the bottom sat a voice recorder.

Dad had slipped it in.

"City people can be sneaky. Stay sharp."

At dinner, the whole family sat around the table.

Jonah took the head, with Diana beside him. Anya sat next to Liam. I got the seat at the far end.

Liam stood and served the soup like he'd done it a hundred times.

He filled a bowl, carried it over, and set it in front of me.

"Try it. Should be easy on your stomach."

I picked up my spoon.

Anya cut in. "Can you eat a little quieter?"

"I haven't even started."

"I'm warning you now. We have rules here." Her eyes dropped to my worn-out T-shirt. "I don't care how you ate back there. In this house, don't embarrass us."

Liam set down his fork. "Anya, Troy just got here. Give him a break."

I looked at him. "So you heard me slurping my soup?"

His smile tightened.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then did you hear anything?"

"...I wasn't paying attention."

"So you weren't paying attention, but still decided I was the problem?" I set down my spoon. "Next time, get the facts before picking a side.

"Assuming I'm guilty isn't being nice. It's setting me up."

The whole table went quiet.

Diana rushed to break the tension.

"The food's getting cold. Let's eat."

But her fork never left her plate. She hadn't taken a bite.

Jonah kept his eyes down, though his fork slowed.

Anya stared at me for two seconds, then looked away. Her knife scraped softly against the plate.

Liam bowed his head, tears shining in his eyes.

I ignored him.

Back in my room, my phone lit up.

Dad: [Troy, eat yet?]

Me: [Yeah.]

That was all I said.

A maid knocked and announced the Sheltons had arrived.

Rory Shelton.

Our families had promised her to the Gautiers' oldest son.

Now that was me.

Her eyes dragged over my old T-shirt, then paused on my canvas sneakers.

"This is how the Gautiers dress you?"

She turned to Diana.

"Mrs. Gautier, my father and I talked. We want to put the engagement on hold."

I leaned back on the couch. "Fine by me."

She paused.

"That's it? You've got nothing to say?"

"You already decided. What's left to say? You came to tell me, not ask me."

"Lose the attitude."

"You're putting our engagement on hold and still want me to be nice? What, should I thank you?"

Her face hardened. She spun around and left, heels snapping against the marble floor.

Liam rushed after her.

The door didn't shut all the way, and his voice carried back inside.

"Rory, don't be mad. Troy's just acting tough."

I poured myself some tea.

Rory hadn't touched hers, so I slid it to the far end of the table.

Anya leaned against the living room doorway, lazily spinning her phone in one hand.

She hadn't gone after Rory.

"You think you're pretty smart, huh?"

I took a sip. "Just say it."

"Rory's the Sheltons' only daughter. Show her some respect.

"You think her family agreed to this because of you? They agreed because you're a Gautier.

"You've been gone eighteen years. Don't come back and wreck everything."

I set down my cup and looked at her. "So let me get this straight. She puts our engagement on hold, and I'm supposed to thank her?"

Her face went cold.

She turned and walked off, her slippers scraping across the marble floor.

That night, I called Dad.

"Troy! How's it going? Anyone giving you trouble?"

"I'm good. I can handle myself."

"Good." He paused. "Just remember—if you're right, don't back down. And if things get too big, I know people."

After we hung up, I slid the voice recorder under my pillow.

Outside, Borevia City was dead quiet.