---- Chapter 5 Kingston Koch POV: Blocked. | stared at the screen, at the blunt, impersonal notification. You are blocked from contacting this number. The phone felt slick in my hand. | tried her social media. Her profiles were gone, wiped clean as if they had never existed. It was like she had digitally evaporated. The party raged on around me, a Technicolor nightmare of forced smiles and hollow laughter. Everly was holding court by the champagne fountain, showing off her new necklace to a circle of fawning admirers. Every flash of the diamonds sent a spike of guilt through me. "Problem?" Finn's voice was low beside me. "She blocked me," | said, the words feeling like stones in my throat. He didn't look surprised. "What did you expect, Kingston? A thank you note?" "| expected her to answer her damn phone!" | hissed, shoving the device into my pocket. "| expected her to have the decency to talk to me." ---- "Decency?" Finn laughed, a humorless, cutting sound. "You want to talk about decency? Let's talk about the speech you gave at her college graduation four years ago. The one you flew in for, promising to take her to dinner, only to leave after ten minutes because Everly had a 'social media emergency' The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd stood on that stage, a proud brother, telling a room full of people how proud | was of Hope Morton. I'd conveniently left out the 'Koch'. I'd told her it was for her security. Another lie. "| had to go," | muttered, the excuse sounding feeble even to my own ears. "You always have to go," Finn said, his voice dropping. "Every birthday. Every holiday. There's always an Everly-related crisis that's more important. You show up for an hour, buy her some expensive but impersonal gift, and then you vanish, leaving her to clean up the wrapping paper alone. And you have the nerve to wonder why she's finally had enough?" My temper flared. "You don't know anything about it." "| know I've watched you break that girl's heart in slow motion for eight years," he shot back. "And tonight, you didn't just break it. You stomped on the pieces." He was right. The realization was a cold, sickening sludge in the pit of my stomach. Every memory of my interactions with Hope was now tainted by the truth. My grand gestures, my hollow promises-they weren't acts of brotherly affection. They ---- were maintenance. | was just making sure the ghost in the machine was still functioning, still waiting quietly in the wings for a day | never intended to arrive. A sudden, desperate need to fix this, to rewind the last twenty -four hours, consumed me. | had to see her. | had to make her listen. "I'm leaving," | said, pushing through a group of guests. "Kingston, wait!" Everly called out, her voice sharp. "Where are you going? They're about to start the fireworks!" "Something's come up," | said over my shoulder, not slowing down. "Is it about Hope?" she demanded, hurrying after me. Her rose gold dress rustled with indignation. "Don't tell me you're leaving my party for her. After the scene she made by not showing up? She's trying to ruin my night!" | stopped and turned to face her, the noise of the party fading into a dull roar. "She didn't make a scene, Everly. | did." The look of stunned betrayal on her face was something | would never forget. For the first time, | wasn't catering to her feelings. | wasn't smoothing over her insecurities. "| have to go," | said again, my voice firm. | left her standing there, her mouth agape, the diamond necklace that should have been Hope's glittering mockingly ---- under the chandelier. | drove through the city like a man possessed, breaking every speed limit. The address of the mechanic's house was easy enough to find; I'd had a background check done on him years ago, a file | kept locked away. I'd always seen him as a benign presence in Hope's life, a relic from her past. Now, | saw him as a threat. When | pulled up to the small, unassuming house, my sleek, black sports car looked alien on the quiet, tree-lined street. The porch light was on, and through the front window, | could see silhouettes moving inside. | didn't knock. | strode up the walkway and pushed the door open. The scene inside stopped me cold. It was a picture of simple, domestic warmth. A woman who must have been Mrs. Gable was clearing plates from a dinner table. And on the couch, Hope was sitting with the mechanic, Jaxon. She was laughing. It wasn't a polite, reserved smile like the ones she gave me. It was a real, unrestrained laugh, her head thrown back, her eyes shining with a light | hadn't seen in years. Jaxon was showing her something on his phone, and his arm was draped casually over the back of the couch, his fingers just inches from her shoulder. They looked... happy. They looked like they belonged. The sight ignited a vicious, unfamiliar fire in my gut. It was ---- jealousy, raw and consuming. "Hope," | said, my voice cutting through the warmth of the room like a shard of ice. Her laughter died instantly. Her head snapped toward me, and the light in her eyes vanished, replaced by a guarded, weary expression. It was the look she gave strangers. "What are you doing here, Kingston?" she asked, her voice flat. Jaxon stood up, placing himself slightly in front of her. He wasn't a big guy, but he was solid, and his stance was unmistakably protective. "You're not welcome here," he said, his voice a low growl. "This is a family matter," | snarled, my eyes fixed on Hope. "Get your things. We're leaving." "No," she said. Just one word, spoken quietly, but with the force of a slammed door. "What did you say?" "| said no," she repeated, getting to her feet. She moved to stand beside Jaxon, not behind him. They were a united front. "This is my home now. You need to leave." "Your home?" | scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. "This place? Hope, be serious. | can give you everything. A penthouse apartment, a trust fund so big you'll never have to work another day in your life. | can give you the world." ---- "| don't want the world, Kingston," she said, her gaze steady and clear. "| just wanted a brother. And | don't have one anymore." Her words hit me with the force of a physical blow. All the air rushed out of my lungs. For a single, terrifying moment, | saw the truth. | hadn't just lost her for the night. | had lost her entirely. "That's not true," | whispered, the desperation clawing its way up my throat. "You're my sister." "Am |?" she asked, a flicker of the immense pain I'd caused her finally showing in her eyes. "Because for the last eight years, I've felt more like your dirty little secret." Before | could find the words to deny it, to lie one more time, she turned her back on me. "Jaxon, please get him to leave," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "| don't want to see him again." 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