Page 32 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Blair shifts in her seat, her hands unconsciously tapping against the table as if she’s trying to anchor herself. “I just…don’t think that should define me,” she mumbles, eyes flicking between Mom and me. She’s struggling a little more now to keep the conversation flowing smoothly, her voice cracking with an emotion she’s not used to showing.

Dad’s eyes soften. “We just want what’s best for you, Blair. We love you.”

Blair crosses her arms, her brow furrowed as she takes a moment to think. “Fine,” she mutters, tapping her fingers against her arms. “If I’m going toconsidergoing to Altair to make everyone else happy, I think I should get something out of it.” She glances at me, her expression turning manipulative.

I raise an eyebrow, catching the shift in her tone. “What do you want?”

She shrugs, all faux-casual, but there’s a spark behind it. “I don’t know. Maybe a peace offering from my brother.”

I snort. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve given you like... twenty peace offerings since you learned to talk.”

“Yeah, and most of them sucked. I want something real this time.”

I give her a look. “You do remember it’sMomwho is pushing for you to go to Altair, right? I don’t even know why you’re bargaining with me.”

Blair doesn’t miss a beat. “Because Mom does guilt. You get leverage.”

There’s a brief silence. Across the table, Mom sighs through her nose but doesn’t argue — mostly because Blair isn’t wrong.

My sister leans in, her eyes unflinching with that all-too-familiar glint of someone sure they can get their way. “Well, we both know you’re practically having an emotional affair anytime you’re with a camera, Bishop. So how about you give me one of yours?” she asks, a sly smile curling the corners of her lips.

I wave my hand, already over it. “Take your pick. You know where my room is.”

Blair scoffs, not buying my nonchalance for a second. “No, I’m not talking about the ones upstairs in your old room. I’m talking about the one you cart around campus with you. The one you won’t even let Dad get near anymore.”

I raise an eyebrow, a short laugh escaping. “Not happening.”

Blair’s smirk doesn’t waver as she leans in, not backing down. “Why not? Seems like a fair trade. I go to Altair, I get the camera. I make all these memories to show Mom how much fun I’m having, and you get to have me around, annoying you every day. A win-win, right?”

I lean forward, my eyes glinting. “You really think you can make demands like that, and I’ll just roll over?”

Her cocky grin falters for half a second, but she recovers quickly. She feels the pressure, but she’s not backing off. “Come on, Bishop. You’ve practically built a shrine for that thing. What’s the big deal? Why’s it so important to you?”

I fold my arms. “Why amIthe one being punished here? Mom and Dad are the ones begging you to go, not me. Shouldn’ttheybe offering up sacrifices?”

Blair just shrugs, breezy and insufferable. “Maybe, but their stuff’s boring. Dad has cameras.Youhave obsessions. That’s what makes it fun.”

I stare at her. “That’s not a reason.”

She pops a piece of bread into her mouth like the conversation’s over. “It is to me.”

That camera’s been with me through everything. It was my very first one. Dad gave it to me the summer before I turned thirteen, right after he’d come back from his own photography trip. It wasn’t just a gift; it was a lesson—wrapped in a worn leather bag, old but sturdy, he handed it to me with one rule:patience. Wait for the shot, don’t rush it. Over time, it became my thing. I don’t care how many other cameras I get, that one’s different. It’s the one I learned on. The one that made me realize I could capture the world the wayIsee it.

I scoff, dismissing her ridiculous notion. “You’re not getting my camera, Blair. Try again.”

She stares at me, not backing down, the wheels turning in her head. But I’m already a step ahead. With a smug grin, I lean back in my chair, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.

“Alright, how about this,” I say, my tone laced with mockery. “What if I bring Ophelia here instead? Let her explain to you what Altair really has to offer from a woman around your age. Give you the full experience. Maybe then you’ll finally see what you’ve been missing.” I pause, letting the words settle, then raise an eyebrow. “While she’s at it, maybe you two could go shopping, get your nails done. You two can really bond over all the…stuff you adore.”

My sister’s eyes tighten, and for a split second, I can see the flicker of irritation, but she’s quick to mask it. “No,” she spits out, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Mom, as expected, chimes in, completely on board with my idea. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. It’ll give the two of you a chance to get to know each other better.”

Blair lets out a loud, almost derisive snort, making it clear she’s not having any of it. “Absolutely not. I’d rather lose my hearing altogether. At least that way, I could express myself through hand gestures. The one with my middle finger seems like a universal one.”

I can’t help but chuckle softly at her response, savoring the fact that I’ve got her riled up, and I’m loving every second of it. This was payback for her mocking me about Prescott earlier. But no sooner do I have the thought than my sister’s brain hits the same twisted conclusion, and I see it in her eyes before she even says a word. Her rebuttal fires off her tongue, her voice calm but calculating.

“What if Alex comes over instead?” she asks, knowing exactly how much that name rubs me the wrong way. How this family feels about the Prescott’s, our history, and the whole thing that makes my skin crawl.

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