Chapter 196 This Shirt Is Expensive Savannah “Chloe?” The name slipped out of my mouth before I could tame the disbelief clawing up my throat. For weeks—maybe months—I’d secretly clung to the hunch that she might be alive. That perhaps she had staged her disappearance, that she wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. A dark, guilty part of me had even imagined finding her in a place exactly like this: a cheap, dingy apartment filled with lowlife criminals. But imagining something and seeing it were two different monsters entirely. My world tilted. Because there she was—my sister—sitting cross-legged on the bed like she hadn’t torn our family apart piece by piece. She smirked. “Hello, Sav.” My breath caught in my chest. “You’re alive. You’re—Chloe, you’re alive.” She rolled her eyes like I’d just told her the sky was blue. Her arms folded across her chest, her posture annoyingly nonchalant. She wore a fitted white top and dark blue skinny jeans. Nothing about her was disheveled or distressed, not even her hair. She looked good. Healthy. Comfortable. “Of course I’m alive, Sav. Don’t pretend like you didn’t have a hunch.” She scoffed. My eyes dropped to her stomach—flat. Too flat. My pulse stumbled. “Chloe… what about your baby?” I whispered. She didn’t blink. “Got rid of it. Not your business.” My heart shattered somewhere in my chest. Before I could form a response, Roman walked in behind me and slid an arm around my waist, grounding me. Chloe’s eyes flicked to him, and her smirk sharpened. “Well, well. Roman. Long time no see.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “No hug for old pals?” “No.” Roman’s voice was calm, flat. “This shirt is expensive. Don’t wanna get dirt on it.” Her smile evaporated. Paula stepped forward like a guard dog. “You both need to get the hell out! Leave! Before I throw you out myself!” But Chloe lifted a hand. “No, wait.” Her voice was deceptively soft. “I actually want them to stay.” Her grin spread wider. “There’s a lot we need to catch up on.” My stomach twisted. She turned to Roman, eyes glittering. “Roman, want to tell Sav here that we have history—” “I know,” I cut in sharply. Her eyebrows shot up. Genuine shock flickered across her face before she masked it again. “Oh? Someone’s changed,” she said slowly. “Then I assume he told you the circumstances surrounding our history?” I frowned. Roman’s hand tightened on my waist. Chloe noticed—it was impossible not to. “You see,” she continued, “when Roman and I got acquainted, he was mourning his beloved wife—” “I know all of that, too. I know everything.” I snapped. “I know you were a paid escort, Chloe. A prostitute. Hired to ‘comfort’ lonely men. Now tell me, aren’t you the least bit ashamed? You’re sitting here, trying to tear us apart, after we flew halfway across the world to find you. You evil bitch.” Chloe flinched. Roman chuckled under his breath. Paula glared daggers at me.I wasn’t done. “You ruined your sham wedding. You faked your kidnapping. You framed Dean. You made Mom end up in the hospital. You broke the family apart. And all for what?” My gaze cut to Paula. “So you can live here with this piece of trash? You’re surrounding yourself with criminals now, Chloe? Is that how Mom and your father raised you?” “Don’t you speak to her like that!” she shouted, shooting off the bed. “You hear me? She’s worth more to me than you ever will be!” Her words should’ve devastated me. They didn’t. Because something inside me, something old and tired and worn to threads, finally snapped. Chloe hated me. Deeply. Violently. Enough to choose a stranger over her own blood. And suddenly, I realized something simple and horrifying. I hated her too. Just as much as she hated me. A laugh tore out of me—sharp, humorless, wild. “So you’re a pills-pimping apprentice now? Learning to rob jewelry stores, break into people’s homes? That’s the life you want? I’m disappointed.” My voice dropped. “Mom is in the hospital right now. Terminally ill. And it’s all your fault, Chlo.”She stepped closer, fury twisting her face. “My fault? You said it’s my fault? How is it my fault?!” “If you hadn’t left home—if you hadn’t run off the way you did—none of this would’ve happened! Not Mom’s declining health. Not your parents splitting. Nothing!” “And why do you always blame me? Why?” she shrieked. “Whenever anything goes wrong in your boring, shitty, stupid life, you pin it on me! Are you obsessed with me or just addicted to blaming me?!” I blinked, stunned. “What? When do I blame you for everything? You’re the one who blames me! Your wedding failed—my fault. Your lies blew up—my fault. You plotted with Dean to humiliate me, Chloe! Have you forgotten? You are the architect of your own misfortune. Don’t drag me into it.” Roman’s hand moved gently over my stomach, a protective instinct I didn’t even think he’d show in front of her. His voice was soft and low. “Sav. Calm down. Remember the baby.” Chloe’s eyes zeroed in on that movement. They sharpened. Then softened. Just for a second. And in that second… she broke. Or almost did. Her eyes glistened, a flicker of something raw—maybe pain, maybe regret, maybe envy. But then Paula squeezed her arm and whispered in her ear. Whatever humanity had flickered in Chloe’s expression vanished and a cold smile replaced it. “Well, well, well. Didn’t expect that. Didn’t think you'd let him knock you up this quickly, but then again…” She snickered. “You’ve always wanted to be me, right? Copying everything I did—even my mistakes.” Something inside me snapped viciously. Her narcissism. Her delusion. Her cruelty. It all boiled over. I stepped forward. My voice went ice-cold. “Be you?” I scoffed. “I’d rather bite off my own tongue than be you for a second. You’re everything I despise. You’re pathetic. Alone. Miserable. Unloved. Unwanted. Evil. That’s why no one wants you. If I had to live like you, I wouldn’t want to live at all.” Her eyes glistened instantly. Paula dragged her back protectively. “What now, Chloe?” I taunted softly. “You can dish it out but you can’t take it? Hurts, doesn’t it? And let me be crystal clear, I have never hurt you. Whatever imaginary scenario you’ve made up in your twisted little head didn’t happen. You fabricate stories so you can play the victim every time.” Her breath hitched. And something darker than hatred flashed across her face. I twisted the knife deeper, hoping to see her crack. “I loved you,” I said quietly. “Just like a sister should. I tolerated your bullshit. I forgave you when you didn’t deserve it. I thought you’d grow out of your childish, selfish ways. But now? After everything you’ve destroyed?” My voice sharpened. “There’s no redemption left for you. You’re the worst person I’ve ever met. And honestly, I wish I never knew you.” Chloe flinched like I’d struck her. The cracks spread. Her mask fractured. Her breathing shook. Then her lips curled. “The feeling’s mutual,” she whispered. “I hate you. I hate you so much because you ruined my life.” And there it was. Finally. “I ruined your life?” I repeated. “Last time I checked, you plotted with Dean to ruin my life” She laughed—bitter, broken. “You’re really going to pretend you don’t know? Pretend you don’t know why I turned out this way because of you?” “Know what?” I hissed. She stepped closer, her face inches from mine. Her voice trembling, not with fear but with rage and something else beneath it. Something trembling. Something unhealed.“Why don’t you tell me now, Savannah,” she whispered. “When we were younger… why were you always taking me to Professor Kingston’s house?” The world stopped. I might have probably stumbled backwards after that question. Thankfully, Roman held me. I frowned, not quite understanding what this cursed name had to do in this conversation. “What do you mean?” I questioned. “What has Asher Kingston got to do in this?” “Everything! It has everything to do with him because if I'm miserable and evil and unlovable, then it's your fault! You and your boyfriend's!” She accused. My confusion deepened. “What are you talking about, Chloe? What boyfriend?” “You don't know?” She asked, enraged. “I don't know what you're talking about!” I defended myself. “If you're not going to spit it out then fucking shut up and stop throwing around baseless accusations—” “You don't know that you and your boyfriend, Professor Kingston, ruined my life!” She stepped closer until I see how red her bright blue eyes were. “You did not know that your boyfriend had been sticking his hands down my pants ever since I was ten?”