Page 60 of The Ruthless Rivalry

But then Aubrey leans in, squinting off in a different direction entirely—one I hadn’t even been paying attention to. “Bishop looks pissed. Do you think he’s still mad about the breakup or something?”

Bishop’s here?The mention of his name sends an unsettling flutter beneath my ribcage.

I lift my chin slightly, still trying to shake the lingering feeling of Sylvester’s stare, and follow Aubrey’s pointed gaze across the natatorium. My eyes fall on my shadow, now seated in the VIP section, when he wasn’t earlier. He’s sitting—alone, stiff, his posture somehow more rigid than I’ve ever seen before.

For a brief moment, I catch his eyes. And for a heartbeat, it’s like everything else in the room fades. It’s a look I’ve never seen aimed at me before. It’s hard. It’s possessive. And I swear, for just a split second, his eyes flick to Sylvester, sizing him up, before snapping right back to me.

But that couldn’t be right… They’re best friends, aren’t they? And Legacies. I shake my head, dismissing the thought, but the strange pull lingers.

Before I can process any more of it, an arm reaches out and nudges him, pulling Bishop’s attention away. He blinks, as if shaking off whatever dark thoughts were clouding his mind. He turns his head, and when he does, his face breaks into the widest smile I’ve ever seen from him. It’s so warm, so completely opposite of the icy look he’d given me moments ago, that I almost don’t recognize him. Bishop isn’t the type to do anything genuinely; everything he does is calculated, always for his own benefit. So why does this smile look so different?

I’m not sure why it feels so unsettling to watch.

“Who are those people?” I ask Aubrey, now that whatever strange fixation I’d been caught in has faded.

“You don’t know?” Aubrey replies, her voice laced with confusion.

Should I?

She quirks an eyebrow before answering. “That’s your grandmother, Gwendolyn Prescott. And the man next to her is your grandfather, Philip Prescott.”

The words hit me like a freight train, leaving me momentarily stunned. My grandparents? The idea of them feels so foreign, like a story I’d heard but couldn’t believe. My father had always told Clara and me they were dead, so we never gave them a second thought. It never seemed important. But now, here they are, sitting across the room from me.

A knot forms in my stomach, the familiar pressure building in my chest. My father had made it clear that we didn’t need to know anything about them. They were just ghosts in the past, part of a history that wasn’t important enough to worry about. And yet, here they are, in the flesh, sitting right there. Very much alive and breathing.

Aubrey’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Alex…did you not know?”

Her question hangs in the air, thick with sympathy, but it’s a different kind of sympathy—one that makes me feel exposed, like she’s seeing something inside me I don’t want her to. I can’t look at her. Can’t even look at my supposed grandparents who are now staring at me from across the natatorium.

I feel my legs move before I even realize it, the need to escape creeping in. The conversation is too much, the air too thick. My body responds before my mind has a chance to catch up.

Without a word, I rise from my seat, my feet moving on their own, carrying me through the rows of spectators. Aubrey’s voice calls after me, but it feels miles away. The world feels suddenly too tight. Too loud. Too much.

I push through the exit and step outside, the crisp air hitting my skin like a splash of cold water. It’s a relief. I don’t even care how chilly it is—anything is better than being stuck in that room, trying to process everything I’ve just been told.

I inhale deeply, willing my heart to slow, but it feels like it’s still racing, thudding in my chest like it’s trying to break free.

I have grandparents.

“Are you alright?”

I nearly jump out of my skin, whirling around to find a guy standing there, his hair still damp from the pool but now dressed in a dark, Altair-branded track suit. His brow is furrowed in concern.

“It’s Christopher, right?” I ask, unsure if I’m remembering him correctly.

“Hey, plant girl remembers,” he replies with a smile.

I do remember him—he was the one who’d made a point to flirt with me that night I accidentally walked in on swim practice. The same night Sylvester had wrapped his arm around myshoulders. Christopher had only spoken to me for a few minutes, but his smirk and easy charm stuck.

I frown, still trying to shake off the shock. “Why aren’t you inside with the rest of your team?”

He shrugs, giving me an exaggerated sigh. “Sometimes things get a little too intense in there for me. I need a breather, you know? Plus, with the season and all, I have to limit myself. Can’t exactly smoke and get high like I prefer to…so fresh air and some space are pretty much all I’ve got.”

I blink, not sure if I should laugh or feel awkward. But something about his easygoing vibe is working to ease the tension in my chest.

“Well, that’s…a very interesting way to look at things,” I say, half-smiling, though I’m still distracted by what I’ve just learned.

Christopher grins, clearly not bothered by my response. “Hey, sometimes a little honesty goes a long way. Anyway, it’s actually my birthday today. You should come hang out later. I’m having a party to celebrate.”

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