Todos los capítulos de Tempted By My Sister's Boyfriend: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

“You thought you were smart.” Adrian’s brows twitched. “Excuse me?” “Sending that email to the campus blog anonymously,” Alexander went on, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Dragging Kim through the mud. Using photos and footage like a coward who didn’t have the balls to attach his name.” Adrian scoffed. “You’re delusional.” “I’m right,” Alexander snapped. “You’re the only one who had access to her like that. You were with her in private. All those places—” “And how do you know all this?” Adrian asked, arms spreading. “Unless you were spying too. Which, I wouldn’t put past someone like you.” Alexander ignored the jab. “You’re the only one who had that footage. Those angles, those moments. There’s no other explanation.” “I didn’t send anything to anyone,” Adrian said. “You think I’d really expose myself by putting that out that?” “No,” Alexander said with a bitter smile. “You thought you’d be clever and go anonymous. But there’s no way you didn’t leave fingerprints, Adrian.

The rest of the ride back to the dorm was quiet. What I did was so wrong that it’ll take a miracle for me to come out of it. Finally, I had done it. The final straw, and it cost me Alexander. I don’t know any feeling worse than this right now. When we arrived at the dorm, he still didn't speak to me, and I got it. I totally understand why. But why do I feel like he was being selfish? He knew about my secret affair with Adrian and still stayed; he forgave me and gave me a fresh start. Why didn’t he leave then? And that’s not the worst part. The worst thing was he knew back then I wasn’t this head over heels about him, but he stayed, and he made sure I was this crazy about him so that when he left, it would hurt me more. Yes. That’s the only reasonable excuse for what he had just done. Fuck you, Alexander. Fuck you for being so perfect and fuck you for making me think that, finally, I was seen, heard, and worthy of love. But it was all fake. Yes. It was all pretenses. You just wante

Monday mornings were always slow, but this particular Monday felt very heavy. I was seated in the lecture hall with other students who had the same restless, low energy. The professor’s voice droned at the front of the room as she tried to hypnotize us into caring about 19th-century trade policies. I sat two rows from the front, notebook open, pen in hand, but the page was blank. Sloane was beside me, her hair fell in a sleek curtain over her shoulder as she scribbled in her notes. She looked exactly as she always did in class. Very composed and attentive. And yet, my mind wasn’t on the lecture, or even the fact that Sloane looked as if nothing had happened yesterday. My thoughts were on yesterday. Sloane’s phone had buzzed, the screen lighting up, her hand shooting for it almost instantly. She didn’t want to take the call in front of me, which was a first. She got up and took it outside. I’d thought that was odd enough, and that was all it took for my curiosity to crack open. T

Sloane walked back toward me, her hair swinging lightly behind her like nothing was wrong. But I could see it. I could see her slightly lifted chin, that subtle spark in her eyes that didn’t look like the warmth of a friend delivering an update. No, it looked like... satisfaction, and that alone was enough to set my stomach sinking again. She came to a stop in front of me, barely giving me time to read her expression before she spoke. “Well,” she said, dusting imaginary lint off her trousers, “Alexander’s still very much mad at you. Actually, mad might be an understatement.” I swallowed hard. “How mad?” “Mad enough to hate you,” she said, her tone flat and almost clinical. “He feels... used. His words, not mine. He said he never in his life thought he could trust someone so untrustworthy.” The statement hit me like an open-palmed slap to the face, and for a second, I thought I’d actually stagger back. “Oh.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to. “Right. Uhm... yeah. It’s

A few hours later... By the time Sloane came back, the sky outside had long since turned dark. The only light in the room came from the small desk lamp I’d been working under. Its golden light cast a lonely circle on my homework I had left undone after I allowed myself to be troubled by Sloane’s weird behaviors. I looked up immediately when I heard the door. Sloane stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind her without so much as a glance in my direction. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she crossed the room. “Sloane,” I called gently, testing her mood. But she didn’t say anything. She kept walking as she headed straight into the bathroom without a word. The door closed, and seconds later. I heard the water running. I frowned. My eyes flicked to my phone screen as I checked the time. It was almost seven. She’d been gone for hours, longer than any quick meet-up would require. And now she was acting like I wasn’t even here. The sound of the shower masked the rest