Page 3 of Betrayed By Sin

I lift my chin. “I needed time to think.”

Cameron nods, but his gaze lingers on my face like he can see the storm beneath my skin.

“I get it.” He exhales slowly, crossing the room. “This is a lot. You don’t have to have it all figured out tonight.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have it figured out.” The words slip out before I can stop them, but they feel true.

Cameron hesitates, then sits on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees. “You don’t have to trust us yet, Magnolia. But you don’t have to be alone either.”

Something in my chesttightens.

I don’t respond.

Because I don’t know if I believe him.

Cameron sighs, running a hand down his face. “I’ll leave you alone.”

When I don’t respond, he stands, moving toward the door. Just before he leaves, he pauses. “We’re family. That will never change.”

I swallow hard, staring at the space where he stood long after he’s gone.

The room is silent once more, buthis words linger.

I don’t know what family is supposed to feel like.

But I know thisdoesn’t feel like it yet.

And I don’t know if it ever will.

TWO

Another hour of sulking and overthinking makes my body itch to move, dragging me into wakefulness like an undertow I can’t fight.

I stare at the ceiling, tracing the intricate molding, the gold embellishments catching the early light. The bed beneath me is too soft, the silk sheets too smooth,like I’ve been swallowed whole by luxury.

But there is no comfort in it.

I throw the blankets off and rise, my bare feet meeting the cool marble floor. The air is thick with a faint scent of burning wood and something floral,like roses wilting under the weight of time.I pad toward the window and push aside the heavy velvet drapes, staring out into the morning haze. The grounds stretch far beyond what my eyes can see, manicured and pristine, a stark contrast to the storm raging in my chest.

A stark contrast to my home with Sin.

His home.

His betrayal.

I don’t belong here, or there, or anywhere.

The thought is sharp, piercing through my ribs like a blade.

I need to move.

I wander the halls in a daze, my hands grazing along the polished wooden railings, the silk wallpaper, the cold marble statues that stand like silent sentinels watching my every step. The house istoo quiet, too perfect, too lived-in for a girl who has never lived here.

The walls feel like a luxe prison, despite the wealth dripping from every corner.The grandeur is suffocating, the intricate paintings of my supposed ancestors staring at me as if expecting me to accept this life, this name, this identity.But all I can feel is the weight of expectation crushing me from all sides.

I should feel connected to this place deep in my core, to the family that surrounds me now.Instead, I feel like an imposter, a misplaced piece of a puzzle that will never quite fit.

My reflection catches in a gilded mirror, and I pause.