Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO COULDN'T LOOK AT ME|
“Ethan.”
My brother flinched when I said his name.
He was twenty-six, two years younger than me, and had spent most of his life believing that the world would forgive him for anything as long as he looked sufficiently sorry afterward.
He had borrowed money from me and forgotten to repay it. He had crashed our father's car and blamed the brakes. When we were children, he had broken my grandmother's favorite porcelain horse and let me take the punishment.
I had always forgiven him.
That was the problem.
"What did you do?" I asked.
Ethan finally lifted his eyes.
"River, please. Not here."
"Where would you prefer? In the ballroom? At the table where everyone is pretending they didn't watch Delaney tear my dress?"
His gaze flickered toward our father.
Dennis Sutton gave him a warning look.
"Your sister is upset," Dad said. "This is not the time for family arguments."
I almost laughed.
A moment earlier, he had wanted me to smile and lie to protect the people who had humiliated me. Now he wanted to use the word family as a curtain to hide behind.
"No," I said. "You don't get to decide when I'm allowed to ask questions."
Delaney folded her arms.
"Oh, this is getting ridiculous. It was an accident."
I turned toward her.
"Then you won't mind explaining why you were holding the fabric when it tore."
Her face hardened.
"I was trying to help you fix your dress."
"With both hands?"
A murmur spread through the guests.
Spencer Heartwell put his drink on a nearby table.
"Miss Sutton, perhaps we should all calm down. The evening is supposed to be about the future of the Heartwell family."
"Then perhaps the Heartwell family should stop using my humiliation as entertainment."
Spencer's smile disappeared.
For years, the Sutton family had cultivated a relationship with the Heartwells. Their hotel holdings, real estate investments, and private lending network were valuable enough to make even a minor association with them desirable.
My father had spent months negotiating a loan to rescue Sutton House, our family's boutique hotel business. Without it, the bank could begin foreclosure proceedings against the flagship property where my grandmother had raised us.
Tonight's event had been advertised as the Heartwell Bride Selection, an exclusive gathering where several prominent families would introduce eligible women to the unmarried heirs of powerful business dynasties.
Officially, it was a social tradition.
Unofficially, it was a marketplace where alliances were discussed over champagne and young women were judged like assets.
I had attended because Dad promised that the loan agreement would be finalized tonight.
I had not agreed to be displayed as anyone's potential bride.
Nolan stood beside me, silent and watchful.
"Miss Sutton," he said quietly, "you don't owe anyone an explanation."
"I know."
"Do you want to leave?"
"No."
The answer came more firmly this time.
"I want to know why my brother helped them."
Ethan's lips trembled.
"I didn't know they were going to tear it."
"But you knew they were planning something."
He looked at the floor again.
That was answer enough.
My grandmother stepped forward.
"Let the girl speak," she said.
Her voice was thin with age, but the guests quieted immediately.
Evelyn Sutton had spent forty years building the family business alongside my grandfather. People who mistook her silver hair and cane for weakness rarely made that mistake twice.
She looked at Ethan.
"Tell your sister the truth."
Ethan swallowed.
"Delaney asked me where River would stand before the announcement. She wanted to know whether the photographers would have a clear view."
"Why?"
"She said she wanted to teach you a lesson."
"What lesson?"
He finally looked at me.
"That you couldn't keep pretending you were better than everyone else."
I stared at him.
"I have never pretended to be better than you."
"I know."
"Then why did you help her?"
His face crumpled.
"Because she promised to get Dad's loan approved."
The hallway went silent.
Dad moved toward him.
"That's enough."
"No," I said. "It isn't."
I took off Nolan's jacket long enough to hand it back to him, then kept one arm across my torn gown.
"Tell me exactly what she promised."
Ethan's eyes filled with tears.
"She said Spencer would sign the loan papers if you were publicly humiliated and withdrew from the bride selection. She said the Heartwells wanted you out of the way because you had been asking too many questions about the hotel accounts."
My father went white.
Nolan's expression changed so subtly that most people would have missed it.
I didn't.
"What accounts?" I asked.
Ethan shook his head.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not!"
"Then why are you afraid to look at me?"
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
At that moment, a waiter approached with a sealed cream envelope.
"Miss Sutton? This was left for you at the reception desk."
I accepted it.
My name was written on the front in my mother's handwriting.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
If you want to know why the Heartwells need you out of the way, ask Nolan Reed what happened to his brother.
I looked up.
May you like
Nolan had gone very still.
And for the first time that evening, I wondered whether the man who had offered me protection had arrived because he happened to witness my humiliation—or because he had been waiting for the Heartwells to make a mistake.
