Chapter 32: Wrong Girl
"What the hell is she doing here?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Justin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand settled gently against the small of my back.
"Come inside," he murmured. His voice was calm. Too calm.
I looked from him to the blonde standing across the foyer. Vanessa. She was dressed in a cream-colored dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and the moment our eyes met, the corner of her mouth curled into a slow, satisfied smile. Like she’d been waiting for exactly this moment and had thoroughly enjoyed the anticipation.
"What is she doing here?" I whispered again.
Justin’s jaw tightened. "I’ll explain."
"Justin—"
"Please."
Just one word. I swallowed every question fighting to come out and let him guide me farther into the house.
The place was beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal. The foyer opened into a massive living room with polished hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a perfectly landscaped backyard. Soft music drifted through hidden speakers while a crystal chandelier threw warm light across everything below it. Expensive art hung on the walls, the kind you weren’t supposed to touch or look at too long. It didn’t feel like someone’s home. It felt like something out of a magazine spread, carefully arranged to impress and slightly too perfect to be comfortable.
My heels clicked awkwardly against the floor as Justin led me toward the dining room.
The long dining table was already set with silver cutlery, crystal glasses, and more forks than I knew what to do with. I counted three on the left side of my plate alone and immediately decided I would follow whatever Justin did and hope for the best. At one end of the table sat an elderly woman with silver hair pulled into a neat bun. Beside her, an elderly gentleman quietly read the evening newspaper like the world outside his pages could wait.
Across from them sat Vanessa. Still smiling. Beside her was a woman who looked so much like her they could have been twins twenty years apart. Same blonde hair. Same sharp cheekbones. Same calculating eyes that moved across a room like they were cataloguing everything for later use.
My stomach twisted. That has to be her mother.
Justin pulled out a chair for me. "Sit here."
I obeyed automatically. He deliberately chose the seat directly beside mine before taking his own. Vanessa never looked away from me. Not once. I could practically feel her enjoying my confusion, the way you enjoy something you’ve been quietly looking forward to for a while.
Justin leaned closer. "So far?"
I forced a smile. "I’m surviving."
His fingers brushed mine beneath the table, barely noticeable. "You’ve got this."
Before I could answer, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Everyone at the table straightened almost imperceptibly, a small collective adjustment that told me everything about the dynamic in this house. Justin quietly said, "Dad’s here."
A tall man in an immaculate charcoal suit entered the dining room. He looked almost exactly like Justin, same dark hair, same broad shoulders, same effortless authority in the way he moved. The only difference was that his smile, when it came, never quite reached his eyes. He nodded once. "Good." Then took his seat at the head of the table like a man who had never once questioned whether it belonged to him.
Justin stood. I immediately followed, not entirely sure why, only that it felt like the right thing to do. "So formal," I whispered. "It always is," he whispered back, and there was something in his voice that had nothing to do with humor.
He waited until everyone had settled again before resting a hand lightly against the back of my chair. "Dad." The older man looked up. "I’d like you to meet my girlfriend." Every eye in the room shifted toward me at once. "This is Harper Brooks."
I offered a polite smile. "Good evening, sir."
He studied me for several long seconds, the kind of deliberate pause designed to make a person feel small. Then he gave a brief, measured nod. "Miss Brooks."
Justin turned toward the elderly couple, and something in his expression genuinely softened in a way I hadn’t seen all evening. "And these are my grandparents. My maternal grandparents."
The older woman beamed. "Oh, she’s lovely." "I agree completely," the grandfather said warmly, folding his newspaper. "Nice to finally meet you, dear. Justin has mentioned you." He said it simply, like it was nothing, but I caught Justin going very still beside me.
Some of the tension eased from my shoulders. "Thank you. It’s wonderful to meet you both."
Then Justin continued, his voice flattening noticeably. "And that’s Vanessa." He didn’t even glance in her direction. "My dad’s stepdaughter." He paused just long enough for the words to land. "And that’s her mother."
My brain stopped working entirely.
Step... daughter?
I slowly turned toward Vanessa. She was still smiling, except now the smile looked different. Not victorious. Satisfied. Like she’d been waiting for me to figure it out on my own, and the wait had been absolutely worth every second.
The parking lot came back to me all at once. Her hand on Justin’s arm. The way she’d leaned into him. The way she’d whispered into his ear and looked back at me with that knowing expression.
You should really ask him who I am.
Oh.
Oh God.
Heat rushed into my face so fast I was amazed no one commented on it. I had spent days convinced Justin had betrayed me. I’d accused him in a parking lot in front of half the campus. I’d yelled at him, questioned him, held him at arm’s length while he just quietly kept showing up anyway. And the entire time, the truth had been sitting right there waiting to be asked about.
Vanessa was his stepsister.
My stomach dropped straight through the floor.
Without thinking, I glanced at Justin. He didn’t say "I told you so." He didn’t look at me with the expression that would have been completely justified. He simply reached beneath the table, found my fingers, and gave my hand the gentlest, quietest squeeze.
It wasn’t smug. It wasn’t triumphant. It felt almost like "it’s okay."
My chest tightened. I squeezed back, a silent apology that wasn’t nearly enough but was everything I had in that moment. He glanced at me for just a second, and the smallest smile touched the corner of his lips before disappearing again.
Across the table, Vanessa noticed. Her smile faded. Only for a moment. Then it returned, wider than before, as she picked up her wine glass and lazily swirled it.
"Well." She tilted her head, settling her eyes on me with the patience of someone who had all night and knew it. "Tell me, Harper." The smile stayed perfectly in place. "How exactly did you and Justin meet?"
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