Page 19 of It’s Me, but Different (Merriweather Sisters #3)

Sloane

The next day, I intercept her in front of her office building. I've been waiting in the parking lot since five in the morning.

She walks fast, head down, dressed in a gray suit that's too serious and doesn't flatter her at all. She seems to have aged ten years in one day.

“Esme!” I whisper with fear.

She stops dead and tenses as if someone threatened to kill her.

“What part of 'leave me alone' didn't you understand?” she growls without turning around. “If you don't get away from me, I'm going to call the police, Sloane. Please, don't force me to do it.”

“I imagine you heard a conversation in Harper's office, but it wasn't about you, I swear.

We were talking about a hotel in Switzerland.

A business acquisition I've been recommending to Harper for months.

The owner was too proud to accept that the company was ruined, and her daughter helped us make everything seem like a coincidence so she wouldn't feel ashamed selling it.”

She turns slowly, but the hatred in her gaze hurts more than a physical blow.

“You should be a screenwriter, or a novelist,” she says with a bitter smile. “Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe something like that?”

“You can ask anyone on the board of directors. You can review the meeting minutes. We've been working on that acquisition for a while.”

“How convenient. You have an answer for everything, right? Or did your older sister prepare that for you too?”

“Esme, please. Everything I told you was true. I want to build a life with you.”

“ENOUGH!”

The scream echoes like a gunshot, making several birds fly out of nearby trees and people stare at us.

“Enough lies! Enough manipulation! Enough playing with me like I'm a fucking rag doll!”

“I'm not playing with you, I…”

“Yeah, of course you're not!” she interrupts me, moving closer until I can see the tears of rage in her eyes. “You do this possibly because everything is a game to you. Because you're bored now that you can't compete anymore. Because you need the adrenaline to feel alive.”

The words pierce me like knives.

“That's not true.” I murmur.

“No? You have no idea what money or work is worth.

You don't know what it's like to wake up every morning worried about whether you'll make it to the end of the month.

You don't understand what it means to make decisions thinking about your children's future instead of your own needs.

Your whole life has been one whim after another.

Yes, you were very good at skiing, but you've had the best trainers since you were little. Fuck, you even had your own ski resorts.”

“Esme…”

“Leave me alone once and for all, Sloane. Forever. That's all I ask. Disappear from my life, forget I exist. I'll never forgive you for what you've done, but much less for manipulating my children by making them grow fond of you to convince me. You're the most despicable person I've ever met.”

“I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove I love you.

I'll stay here with you, I'll look for work as a ski instructor at Echo Mountain or any other nearby resort. Let me help you with the kids, with the house, with whatever you need. Just give me a chance to prove that what I feel for you is real,” I plead, trying to get closer to her, though she puts a hand on my chest to stop me from advancing.

“Miss Torres, do you want me to call the police?” asks a gray-haired man, walking toward us.

“No need, Joe, she's leaving,” she replies, giving me one last look of hatred before entering the building where her office is.