Page 33 of The Ruthless Rivalry

I stop mid-smirk, and for a second, I’m not sure if I’m more annoyed that she knows me so well or that she’s so bold with it. “You’re kidding, right? You know the last thing you should want is her anywhere near this house.”

Blair sits up in her chair, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, I could always stay here and continue to keep being the disappointment. Maybe I could learn a few things from Alex in that department.”

My blood runs cold. This isn’t a game anymore.

Her eyes flicker with amusement as she watches me. “So what’ll it be? Are you going to get her to come here or not?”

A slight twitch of my eyelid betrays my irritation. This is more than I was willing to deal with. I lean back, giving her a pointed look. “You know, Mom could just force you to go to Altair.” No strings. No Prescott.

Mom’s gaze flickers, hesitant, as she opens her mouth to respond. “Bishop’s right, Blair. You don’t get to make all the demands here.”

The words are firm on her lips, but something falters—something I can’t quite place. It’s as if the weight of the command feels heavier than it should. Normally, Mom would push back with a force so strong it would crush any idea like Blair’s before it had a chance to settle. But today, there’s something different. A hesitation, a weariness that’s never been there before.

Before she can say more, Dad places his hand gently on hers. His touch, calm and steady, grounds her, a silent reassurance between them. “I think this could be beneficial for her, Francesca. A chance for Blair to see things from a different perspective. It might just be the push she needs.”

Mom’s gaze flickers to Dad, her lips pressing together, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. The weight of his words seems to settle over her in a way that makes her hesitate. There’s amoment when she almost argues, almost tells him no. But she stops herself, her lips parting just slightly before closing again.

“I don’t like this, Blair,” she says, her tone betraying her usual strength. “I don’t like the idea of giving in, but…maybe there’s something to be said for letting you see things firsthand.” Her words are tinged with an exhaustion I can’t ignore, a weariness that feels heavier than just frustration.

Blair leans forward, a victorious glint dancing in her eyes. Her smirk widens as she senses she’s won, her gaze darting between our parents, clearly savoring the moment.

“What?” I ask, genuinely shocked. This whole ridiculous charade shouldn’t actually be happening. This isn’t like Mom—this isn’t how she usually operates. She doesn’t back down, not from Blair, not from any of us. What the hell is going on right now?

Blair just shrugs, her confidence unshaken, a smug glint in her eyes. “Oh, nothing. Just making sure you understand that I’m not agreeing to anything, Bishop. You can bring Alex here, but don’t think that means I’m going anywhere.” She grins, clearly satisfied, as if the entire situation has already worked out in her favor. She knows full well that getting Prescott to come here is a long shot at best. All this does is buy her more time to avoid going to Altair. She’s got it all figured out, and she knows it.

“Don’t worry, Blair. I’m not promising anything. I’m sure Prescott will love the invitation. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who can’t even be bothered to make a simple decision?”

Blair’s smile deepens, satisfied with the small victory. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

I despise Prescott and all that she represents, and now I’m supposed to—what?—invite her over for tea or something?

I give a short, bitter laugh, but it’s more frustration than humor, staring off at nothing. I’m so utterly confused by the turnof events. I can’t decide whether to be angry, frustrated, or just bewildered.

I look over at my sister, her smile deepens as she leans back in her chair, arms crossed triumphantly. Blair’s gotten what she wants…and now I have to live with the consequences.

Chapter 8

Alex

As I settle in for the night, slipping into my pajamas and working through an assignment at my desk, I can’t help but feel the weight of another long night—one where I still haven’t gotten sufficient revenge on the Legacies and am exhausted from cleaning up the mess they framed me for. Then a knock interrupts the quiet.

I open the door to find Sylvester leaning casually against the frame, his eyes scanning me with amusement. “You’re really going to wear that to our one-on-one? Bold move, babe.”

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms over my long-sleeved shirt and shorts combo. He should know better than to think Iwas going anywhere with him. I made it clear earlier in the week that I wasn’t attending our study session. He could deal with O’Donnelly on his own.

“I told you already, I’m not going,” I say, my voice firm but unbothered.

Sylvester doesn’t back off, though. He pushes off the doorframe, his tone soft but teasing. “Come on, Alex. Youknowhow important this is.” His eyes flash with something sharper now, but there’s still that playful edge. “And besides, I figure I could walk you over.”

I snort, fighting the urge to shrink back from what he’d just said. Walk me over? What were we, a couple? No way would I ever consider dating a Legacy.

“This is your problem, not mine,” I reply.

He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping. “Are you sure? Could be fun. You and me. Just a little walk. Or are you afraid you’ll have too good a time?”

I give him a hard, skeptical look. “I’m sure. Or have you forgotten it was you and the other Legacies who turned my life into a cautionary story? Because, really, that’s beensuperhelpful.”

For a brief moment, his expression flickers with something close to guilt, but he quickly recovers, keeping the same playful edge. “That was a long time ago.”

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