Chapter 5

The door opened and Alexander walked in carrying a thermos of bone broth. "Awake? Hungry? I had some bone broth made for you—drink it while it's hot." He set it on the nightstand, unscrewed the lid with practiced ease, poured out a bowl, and held it out to me. At twenty-six, the heir to Sterling Holdings—whose business empire stretched across half the continent—looked cold and untouchable to everyone else. Only with me had he always seemed gentle.

I used to think that was love. Now I knew it was nothing more than the pity he felt for a Shadow. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He lifted a brow, scooped up a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and held it to my lips. "Come on. Open up."

I opened my mouth and swallowed the broth. It tasted good, rich and slow-cooked. Real care had gone into it.

"Good?"

"Mm."

He smiled, gentle as spring air. "Then drink more. I'll make it for you every day from now on and get you healthy again."

I leaned against the headboard, watching him feed me so carefully, and suddenly asked, "Alex, now that Sophie's back, is she staying for good?"

His hand paused, then he answered like it was nothing. "Yeah. She signed up for the Royal Theatre's principal dancer selection, so she'll probably stay for a while."

"Oh." I nodded. "That's nice. My sister and I can spend more time together."

He glanced at me, something probing flickering in his eyes. "You don't mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Her... competing with you for principal dancer." He said it lightly, almost like he was testing me.

I smiled. "What are you saying? Sophie's my sister. If she's doing well, I'll only be happy for her. Besides, with me like this, what principal spot could I possibly compete for?"

Alexander visibly relaxed, and there was even a flash of relief in his eyes. He reached out and ruffled my hair. "I'm glad you see it that way. Sophie's always felt guilty. If she hadn't gone overseas back then, you wouldn't have..."

"Wouldn't have what?"

"Nothing." He looked away. "Drink your soup."

I lowered my head and kept drinking, without asking again. I didn't need to. After Sophie left that year, I took that international competition and won, but I also injured my lower back. Years of recovery and missed opportunities followed, and somehow all of it had become Sophie's guilt.

He had been the one who urged me to enter that competition in the first place, telling me it was my dream and that what happened to Sophie had nothing to do with me. Now he was saying she had left in anger because of me. Men's promises were nothing but lies.

"Oh, right." Alexander suddenly remembered something. "Sophie wants to take us out to dinner and thank you for... taking care of me all these years." He looked a little stiff when he said that.

I nodded. "Sure. When?"

"This weekend. She said she'll let you know once she books the restaurant."

"Okay."

Alexander sat with me a little longer, then left in a hurry after taking a call. Before he went, he bent down and kissed my forehead. "Get some rest. I'll come stay with you tonight." I watched his back disappear through the doorway.

Dr. Carter texted: [Next Monday, 8:00 a.m. Rehab center. Be ready. It's going to hurt.] I replied: [Got it.]

Then I opened my photo gallery and pulled up an old picture from Sophie's last performance before going overseas. She and Alexander stood far too close onstage, her head tilted toward his shoulder, and I had taken that photo myself from the audience, with a heart full of blessings.