Page 20 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

ALISON

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the small, worn-down house, my stomach twisted. It wasn’t fear. At least, that’s what I told myself. It was anticipation. The weight of something I didn’t want to acknowledge pressing down on me.

This wasn’t just about finding Adrianne.

It was about proving that I didn’t have to care.

I clenched my jaw, staring at the peeling paint on the porch railing and the “For Rent” sign leaning crooked in the front yard. This was where she lived. My father’s lovechild. His other daughter. The one he actually wanted.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, hating the way that word sat in my head like a haunting thought, the way he’d said it still burning a hole through my heart. Daughter .

That was supposed to be me. Only me.

I had always been the youngest. The only girl. Matteo’s bratty shadow, Liam’s principessa , my father’s little girl – when he felt like acknowledging me. That had been my place, my whole identity. And now?

Now I wasn’t the youngest. Now I wasn’t the only girl. Adrianne had taken something from me without even knowing it. And the worst part? It wasn’t even her fault.

Pity party much, Alison?

That truth made me sick with guilt, the pettiness behind it making me want to punch it out of me. Still, it didn’t stop the resentment from curling tight in my chest. More so if I admitted it wasn’t her fault, because then I had to admit whose fault it really was.

My father’s.

I had spent my whole life trying to make excuses for him. Trying to be the daughter he’d love unconditionally. Trying to mold myself into the perfect woman, worthy of his pride and beating myself up for feeling like I always fell short.

Sub-par.

Not enough.

Too much.

If Adrianne turned out to be awful, some gold-digging, opportunistic stranger who didn’t deserve our name, then maybe I wouldn’t have to blame him. Maybe I could convince myself that he had been the victim.

That lie would be easier than facing the truth. Even if forced down my throat and washed off with a severe case of selective memory. Apparently, I’d been doing that for longer than I realized. How much more had my brain blocked out?

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself before pushing the car door open.

The cool air bit at my skin, but Max’s presence beside me was warm and steady. He didn’t say anything, just walked with me, his body close enough to be reassuring without suffocating me. He knew me too well. Knew I didn’t want to talk, that I just needed him here.

I barely made it to the front steps before the front door of the house next to hers creaked open. A woman walked out onto the porch, wrapped in a thick sweater, a cup of tea or coffee in her hand while her sharp gaze pinned me in place.

“Adrianne? Is that you, Sweetie?”

The name hit me square in the chest, sharper than a damn dagger. I froze in my spot, my own saliva not budging down my throat while I stood there not uttering a single word.

Max shifted beside me, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for me or his gun, but he knew better. The only danger I was in right now was that of my fragile ego being shattered for being mistaken for my half-sister by a stranger.

I forced my expression into something neutral before walking onto her lawn and coming closer to her.

“No.” The word was forced out of my chest like it was glued to my tongue with thick layers of super glue, cement, and pride.

The woman frowned, stepping closer. “Jesus, you look just like her.”

I forced myself to stand still, to let her look at me, forcing a fake smile onto my face that I could feel had been drained of all color.

I hated it. Hated that someone could look at me and see another person.

Because she wasn’t supposed to exist.

Much less was she supposed to look like me. Vile joke, indeed.

How these stupid feelings made me think like this was beyond me. I’m a fucking adult. How could I still be acting like a kid?

No. I knew the answer to that. Because when it came to my father, I would always be that little girl searching for his approval. Searching for his love. Wanting him to have chosen me and not simply give up on us.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, trying to take me in and find the differences between us. “Who are you then?”

“I’m her sister,” I said after clearing my throat of the uneasy mass that seemed to have taken residence there.

She let out a breath, shaking her head. “It figures.” Then, after a long pause, she added, “Same face, different life.”

Something sharp lodged itself in my throat. In my heart. This was exactly what I needed to wake the fuck up. A good dose of reality that would wake me up from that dark place in my mind where my father was king and I was a mere nuisance.

“Do you know where she is?” My voice came out steadier than I expected.

The woman’s lips pressed into a thin line as she walked down the steps and came to stand right in front of me. Her eyes were still assessing me, picking me apart, smiling as she either saw the differences or uncanny resemblance between the two of us.

“You’re sisters, alright. If it weren’t for your green eyes and her being so damn skinny lately, you would have fooled me if you wanted to.

” The woman cooed as if proud of herself for being able to tell us apart before finally answering my question, “She got evicted.” The word hit me like a slap. Evicted.

“She couldn’t afford to stay after her mama died,” the woman went on. “Didn’t have anybody to help her. That girl spent years taking care of that woman. Worked herself into the ground. And when it was all over, she had nothing left but debt and no life.”

I swallowed, my throat dry while my heart hammered in my ears. I couldn’t understand this visceral reaction. This was not the story I wanted to hear. But what I was feeling came damn close to caring.

No. Don’t lie to yourself, Alison. You do fucking care.

I came here expecting to find someone undeserving. Someone selfish, entitled. Someone who wanted something from our family, money, power, revenge.

But Adrianne didn’t even know we existed until her mother died. The guilt I had been shoving down started to claw its way back up.

I wanted to hate her. I wanted to resent her existence because it made my relationship with my father even more unbearable. But hating her meant ignoring what she had been through.

And I couldn’t do that.

The woman sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “She said she was looking for work. If she’s still in town, that’s where you’ll find her.”

Looking for work. I thought my father had said she was going to work at AD.

Did she decline? I’m sure my father would be paying her a hefty amount, probably trying to compensate for twenty-something years of alimony and no father figure.

If Adrianne refused, she didn’t want our money, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” I said before I squared my shoulders and turned back toward the car.

For a moment, Max stayed behind, but I couldn’t listen to whatever it was he said to the woman.

My thoughts were too loud to allow me. Soon enough, he was silently walking behind me.

I didn’t have to look to know because his warm presence was grounding and reassuring.

I could feel his eyes on me, like he was waiting for me to crack. Waiting to catch me when I fell.

But I’d done enough of that. I refused to.

How could I ever take back my power if I allowed thirteen-year-old me to take me down?

I couldn’t.

I sat in the car parked in the center of Saratoga Springs, replaying that conversation in a loop while Max paced the sidewalk, barking into the phone.

I didn’t need to ask to know he was talking to Jimmy, trying to find out where we could find Adrianne.

With no address and nothing but an extremely common last name, we were bound to go back to New York City with more questions than we had when we arrived.

Evicted.

Skinny.

Worked into the ground.

Those words were corroding me from within. My chest tightened at the thought of what she’d been through. How self-centered was I to have felt this strange brand of jealousy towards a stranger who hadn’t asked to be born? From infidelity, nonetheless.

None of us signed up for this lifetime subscription of trauma. Still, we were forced to live out the sentence with a smile on our faces.

The driver’s door slammed shut, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Max had that look on his face. The pity I despised, especially after realizing I was choking on a silver spoon while my sister faded into a life that had given her fuck-all.

“Jimmy tracked her credit card to a motel a few minutes away,” Max said, holding his judgment and whatever questions brewed in his brain, “It’s bad, Alison. She has $23 in her account, and her debt is out of control. Mostly rent, utilities, and medical bills.”

I swallowed dryly, my heart shrinking in my chest. Embarrassment came next, heating my cheeks and making me sink into the leather seat.

Here I was, wishing upon a fucking star that this girl was insufferable, only to ease a pain made of entitlement. I’ve never felt so selfish in my entire life. If I thought I’d hit rock bottom before, life just came crashing, informing me that rock bottom had a damn basement.

That was the ego readjustment I needed to wake the fuck up.

“Let’s go,” I said, my voice determined as I sat straight and fastened my seatbelt.

“This is the reason I found you crying in your car at AD.” It was a statement. I was surprised he was keeping track of my meltdowns. These certainly haven’t been my proudest few months.

“It was. And selfishly, I wished it wasn’t true or that she was just a parasite trying to weasel her way into the family to milk us for all we have. Never thought that finding out how fucked up her life is could ruin me even more than knowing my father never wanted me.”