Chapter 7
737words
In Moonbrew, the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops me like a warm hug. My assistant manager and my friend, Mia, looks up from the espresso machine with wide eyes.
"Sienna! You look different today..." she trails off, clearly unsure how to describe my appearance.
I glance down at myself—still wearing yesterday's clothes, though the torn blouse has been replaced by the shirt Damon provided. I must look like I've had quite a night.
"I'm fine," I assure her, heading straight to the back office. "Just need to change into my work clothes."
Ten minutes later, dressed in jeans and a Moonbrew t-shirt, I feel more like myself. I tie my hair back, wash my face, and step behind the counter to help with the morning rush. The familiar routine of grinding beans, steaming milk, and chatting with regular customers helps clear my head.
"So," Mia whispers when there's a lull between customers, "are you going to tell me where you disappeared to last night?"
I wince, remembering my silenced phone. "I just needed space after... everything."
Her eyes soften with concern. "The doctor's appointment? How bad was it?"
"Advanced endometriosis," I say quietly, focusing on wiping down the counter. "I have maybe a year before natural conception becomes nearly impossible."
"Oh, Sienna." She reaches for my hand, but I pull away, afraid I'll break down if she shows me kindness.
"And then I caught Lucas in bed with Vanessa."
Her jaw drops. "Your stepsister?"
I nod, the memory of yesterday's discovery still raw. "It gets worse. He's been slipping morning-after pills into my coffee for a year. That's why I couldn't get pregnant."
The bell above the door chimes, interrupting Mia's response. I look up to see Lucas and Vanessa entering the coffee shop. My stomach tightens with anger and hurt.
Lucas rushes toward the counter. "Sienna, thank goodness you're alright! I've been looking for you all night. I was worried sick!"
His audacity leaves me momentarily speechless. After everything he's done, he has the nerve to act concerned?
"Why worry?" I finally manage, my voice cold. "Didn't you have enough fun with Vanessa?"
He has the decency to look ashamed, at least. "I'm sorry. What happened between us—it was a mistake."
A bitter laugh escapes me. "You think 'sorry' fixes everything? Can 'sorry' undo the fact that you've been drugging me for a year? Can it erase the image of you with my stepsister in our bed?"
Vanessa glides forward, looking perfectly put together in a designer outfit, not a hair out of place. Her eyes immediately fill with theatrical tears.
"Sis," she begins, her voice trembling with fake emotion. "Don't blame Lucas. It's all my fault."
She approaches the counter, her expression a masterclass in manufactured remorse. "If you're mad, just kill me! I know you've always hated me. I shouldn't have been born! I shouldn't be alive!"
I stare at Vanessa in disbelief. This performance might work on Lucas, but not on me. The way she positions herself to look vulnerable while ensuring she appears beautiful even in distress. The calculated tremor in her voice. The way she casts herself as the victim even while apologizing.
"Vanessa! What are you doing?" Lucas rushes to her side, exactly as she intended.
She clutches at her chest, swaying slightly. "I'm shameless to see Sienna. Just let me die!"
"It's not your fault," Lucas soothes, wrapping an arm around her. "Don't blame yourself."
The tenderness in his voice as he consoles her—such tenderness he'd rarely shown me—makes something inside me snap.
"Enough!" I say, my voice cutting through their little drama. "Stop your performance here! I see exactly what you're doing."
Lucas steps forward, his expression darkening. "You're being cruel, Sienna. Vanessa is pregnant—"
The word hits me like a physical blow. I grip the counter to steady myself, the room suddenly spinning.
"What did you just say?" My voice sounds distant to my own ears.
Vanessa's lips curve into a triumphant smile as she places a protective hand over her still-flat stomach. "Four weeks along. We just found out yesterday. We're getting married one month later."
Four weeks pregnant. So they've been sleeping together for months, carrying on an affair behind my back while I worked long hours at the coffee shop. Every late night at work, every business trip, every time he couldn't answer his phone—it all makes sickening sense now.
