Page 6 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Bishop’s lips curled into a tight smile, but there was no humor in it, just a cold edge that didn’t quite match the tension in his shoulders. He stood a little too still, too rigid.

“And what if she doesn’t get a disappointing score?” I pressed, my tone stronger now. “What if Alex excels, despite everything she’s done?”

The words hung between us, heavier than they should have been.

His mouth tightened, a forced smirk flickering in and out. “That’s not going to happen,” he muttered, his voice strained in a way that felt rehearsed.

I could feel my pulse quicken, the words hanging in the air like a fog I couldn’t quite push away. I’d known Bishop for my entire life, but this version of him—the one looking at me with uncertainty in his eyes—was something unfamiliar. There was something eating at him, something that didn’t line up with the cold, calculated way we had always approached our plan.

“You sure about that?” I pressed, unable to stop myself. The guilt gnawing at my insides was making me sharp.

The pause that followed was thick. I could see the subtle shift in his posture—how he exhaled too slowly, like he was holding something in.

“Positive,” he said, but the way his voice trembled just a fraction at the end made me doubt him.

My gut twisted with familiar guilt, but there was a deeper unease now—something heavier, more personal. We’d done so many things in the name of family, in the name of our honor, but every new turn with Alex felt like a reminder of how far we’d gone. How wrong it felt. Howcloseit felt to unraveling.

It was like the threads of everything we’d built were starting to fray, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that soon, they’d snap. The weight of our actions pressed down on me with a force I wasn’t ready to admit.

The thunderstorm had calmed down to a drizzle, but my guilt weighed heavier on me than the rain. “Did you and Cam gether mother back to her facility?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Bishop’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Of course we did. We’re not complete monsters, Sutton. Her mother is safely back in her room, everyone none the wiser, and enjoying a heavily medicated nap.”

I nodded, relief flooding through me. At least this one element had been dealt with before Alex’s dad arrived at campus.

“Good,” I agree, even if I felt the complete opposite about everything else.

Bishop’s lips pull into something that almost resembles a smirk. “Exactly. Now, about tomorrow’s dinner…”

A tight knot of unease coiled in my stomach. “What about it? I already got you the paint you asked for.” I knew my role—apply some to her hands, then rub just enough off to make it look believable. Even though Alex wasn’t likely to succeed at the ceremony, Bishop always liked having contingency plans in place.

It’s not surprising for someone who’s known him this long. I mean, why else would he choose to sit withtheminstead of us at my brother’s swim meets?

“We need to make sure everything goes according to plan. No more surprises, no slip-ups,” he stated. “You got everything in place, right?”

I nod, though a small part of me bristles at the thought of always following orders.This is why I like art,I thought. At least there, I could express myself however I wanted. “Yes, Bishop. We’re all set.”

“Perfect,” he said, smiling. “I knew I could count on you.”

I couldn’t help but think of Alex’s face at the hospital earlier—the hurt, the confusion, the betrayal in her eyes. It was almost enough to make me want to call the whole thing off. But I couldn’t. We’d come too far, sacrificed too much. Plus, Bishopwould never approve. Even if I attempted to sabotage his plans, he would find a way to ultimately achieve his goal—ensuring that Alex Prescott left Altair.

I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Of course. We’re in this together, after all.”

“That we are,” Bishop responded, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder before retrieving a cigarette from his blazer pocket and placing it between his lips.

“You know those things are going to kill your lungs, and then ultimately you one day,” I said, eyeing the cigarette with distaste.

He chuckled, lighting up despite my warning. “We’ll all die someday. Might as well enjoy the ride.”

I watched as he took a long drag, the smoke curling around us in the damp air. The acrid smell made my nose wrinkle, but I didn’t comment further. There were bigger things to worry about than Bishop’s casual smoking habit.

As he exhaled, the smoke mixed with the cold evening air, and for a moment, he seemed distant—almost lost in his own thoughts. The usual swagger in his stance was a little less pronounced, his shoulders a bit more slouched. It was subtle, but it was there.

“You’re sure about all this, right?” I asked, my voice careful. It was more a question about him, than about Alex.

His eyes flicked to mine, but he didn’t answer immediately. He just took another drag, his fingers twitching slightly as he held the cigarette. I could feel the tension hanging in the air, the crackling quiet, before he responded.

“Of course,” he finally muttered, his tone too fast, too rehearsed. “It’s the only way forward.”

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