Chapter 120: Dylan’s Stepsister

I stared at Miranda as though she'd started speaking another language.

My mind refused to accept what she'd just said.

And as if the afternoon suddenly felt strangely quiet, the wind stirred a few dry leaves across the pavement, yet all I could hear was the frantic pounding of my own heartbeat.

Miranda remained perfectly calm.

A faint smile curved across her lips as though she'd just offered me an ordinary favor instead of asking me to ruin someone I loved.

She tilted her head. "Yes, Reet. You heard me."

I swallowed hard.

"You sabotage Dylan's game..." She smiled wider. "...and I'll let your father go."

I couldn't even find my voice for several long seconds.

My fingers slowly curled into trembling fists. "You..."

And my throat felt painfully dry. "You're serious."

"I've never been more serious." She folded her arms loosely across her chest. "I don't care how you do it." She said lightly.

"You can distract him." She shrugged.

"You can confuse him."

"Make him lose focus."

"Make him miss the match."

"I honestly don't care."

Her smile widened another fraction. "I just don't want Dylan to ace that soccer game."

Every word she spoke made my stomach twist at the impossibility of it.

I shook my head slowly. "No..."

Miranda waited.

I looked directly into her eyes and hesitated. "If I actually did that..."

The words tasted bitter in my mouth. "You won't change your mind again?"

"No." She answered without hesitation. "I won't."

Then she stepped closer close enough that I could smell the faint perfume clinging to her coat.

"This time..." She paused. "I'll keep my word."

I searched her face desperately, trying to find any sign she was lying or to convince myself she was bluffing, but she looked frighteningly confident.

She lifted one shoulder casually. "Besides, I want to see what Brookwood's brilliant little nerd comes up with."

Her eyes sparkled with cruel amusement.

"I know you're smart."

"So..." She leaned in slightly. "Figure it out."

My entire body felt cold but I shook my head at her. “No, I won't.”

Nothing changed in her expression.

"I won't do it," I repeated more firmly. "I can't."

Miranda sighed dramatically. "That's disappointing."

I clenched my jaw. "I'm not ruining Dylan's future."

"Really?" She looked almost entertained.

"Even if it means saving your father?"

Pain shot through my chest as I closed my eyes briefly and opened them again.

"No." My voice trembled. "I won't destroy someone else's life to save him."

Miranda studied me for several long seconds and gave a small nod. "Very noble."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Then forget about seeing your father again."

Her words landed like a punch.

But I immediately stepped toward her. "Miranda."

She blinked at me. "What?"

Why was she incapable of sympathy?

I stared at her. "Why Dylan?"

She looked mildly confused.

"The whole thing..." My voice cracked.

"Should be about me." I paused.

"If you hate me," I spread my hands helplessly. "Then come after me."

My breathing became uneven. "But leave Dylan out of this."

She let out a quiet giggle that somehow sounded more cruel.

"Oh, Reet." She shook her head. "You still don't get it."

Another laugh escaped her.

"I'm having so much fun." She smiled brightly. "Toying with both of you."

My stomach churned.

"You know what's even better?" She clasped her hands behind her back. "If Dylan loses this game..." She trailed off.

Her amusement increased. "His father will be disappointed."

I frowned.

She nodded enthusiastically. "And that's exactly what I want."

"How do you even know that?" I asked.

Miranda looked almost offended by the question like the answer was obvious.

"Seriously?" She laughed again. "Who doesn't know?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Dylan's father practically breathes soccer."

She smirked. "His son's performance is everything to him."

Another shrug.

"He obsesses over Dylan's life."

"His achievements."

"His image, who he dates..."

"So naturally..."

Her smile returned. "...watching Dylan disappoint him sounds incredibly entertaining."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

She wasn't trying to gain anything, she simply enjoyed watching people suffer.

The thought made my skin crawl and then Miranda looked past me toward our small house.

Then her gaze slowly swept across the narrow street, the modest homes, the faded paint, and the tiny front yards.

She laughed softly. "So..."

She looked back at me. "You really ended up here."

I frowned.

Then she gestured toward the house. "I heard you got kicked out of Dylan's mansion."

As expected, there wasn't an ounce of sympathy in her voice, only mockery.

"I have to admit..." She smiled cruelly. "This place suits you."

Heat rushed into my face.

She continued looking around with exaggerated curiosity.

"So tiny."

"So ordinary."

"So..." Her eyes settled on mine again.

"...pathetic."

I swallowed the anger threatening to spill over.

She noticed and smiled even wider.

"I almost miss seeing you walk into that mansion." She sighed dramatically.

Of course, she'd been watching me.

"But honestly..." She continued. "I like this better."

She looked me up and down. "You've finally gone back to where you belong."

I refused to respond to her mockery and give her the satisfaction.

I was a little bit glad she looked disappointed by my silence.

Then she casually checked the time on her wristwatch. "I should get going."

She smiled sweetly. "Think carefully."

She pointed lazily toward me. "You've only got one job."

She began walking back toward her car and then she paused halfway.

Without looking back, she added,

"Oh, and I genuinely wish you luck."

She laughed softly. "Because judging from your choices lately, you're going to need it."

She waved dismissively over her shoulder and continued walking.

I stood rooted to the pavement unable to move.

Miranda reached the expensive black car, and just before opening the door, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out something small.

I couldn't exactly make out what it was from where I stood but it looked like a small container.

She casually popped something into her mouth, chewed once or twice before she tossed it carelessly into the public waste bin beside the curb.

She didn't even look to see whether it landed.

She simply opened the car door and gracefully slid inside.

A second later, the engine hummed to life and the sleek black car pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street.

I remained standing there.

My gaze drifted toward the waste bin almost on instinct.

I didn't know why, there was nothing remarkable about it.

Just an old metal bin standing beside the sidewalk.

Yet for some reason, my eyes lingered there for a long moment.

Then I dragged a shaky hand through my hair, forced myself to tear my gaze away, and stomped toward the front door of our small house, my thoughts churning with the impossible choice Miranda had just placed in front of me.

For the past two days, my mind had refused to give me a single moment of peace because every time I closed my eyes, I heard Miranda's voice.

‘Sabotage Dylan's game... and I'll let your father go.’

Her words chased me everywhere.

While brushing my teeth.

While trying to study.

Even while attempting to fall asleep.

The soccer game was tomorrow.

I couldn't betray Dylan but I couldn't stop thinking about my father either.

If I refused Miranda, my father would remain somewhere I couldn't even imagine.

If I obeyed her, I'd become the very person Dylan never deserved.

I had never felt so trapped in my entire life.

Mom was still at work, so the little house felt unusually quiet.

I sat cross-legged on the old couch with my chemistry textbook open in front of me.

I'd been staring at the same page for nearly twenty minutes without reading.

Then my phone buzzed beside me.

I almost ignored it but it buzzed again.

I sighed and picked it up.

It was a text message from Brian.

"Come outside."

Another message appeared immediately afterward.

"I'm in front of your house."

I frowned.

"What?" I muttered under my breath.

I quickly slipped my phone into my pocket before standing.

The floor creaked beneath my feet as I crossed the living room.

I unlocked the front door and stepped outside before quietly pulling it shut behind me.

The night air hit my skin.

Across the narrow street, Brian stood with one shoulder leaning casually against a weathered signpost.

His hands were tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

The moment he noticed me, he lifted his chin in greeting. "There she is."

I blinked. "Brian?"

He smiled lazily. "Took you long enough."

I crossed my arms.

Instead of greeting him back, the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "How did you even find my house?"

Brian looked almost offended. "Wow."

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest.

"No hello?"

"No 'Brian, it's nice seeing you?'"

I narrowed my eyes. "Brian."

He chuckled. "Fine."

He pushed himself away from the signpost. "I followed you."

I stared at him. "You..."

He shrugged shamelessly. "What?"

"You followed me?"

"I did."

"You stalked me?"

He immediately pointed a finger at me.

"Following." He corrected. "Not stalking."

I let out an exhausted sigh. "That's literally worse."

"No, it's not." He shook his head confidently. "Stalking sounds criminal, I simply observed."

"You observed me home?"

"Exactly."

I rubbed my forehead. "I don't know why I'm friends with you."

He grinned. "You aren't."

"I'm Dylan's friend, I just tolerate you." He teased.

Despite everything weighing on me, a tiny laugh escaped before I could stop it.

Brian smiled knowingly. "There."

He nodded. "You smiled, I've been trying to get that reaction for weeks."

I rolled my eyes at his exaggeration.

The smile disappeared almost immediately.

My shoulders slumped again.

Brian noticed and his own smile slowly faded. "I actually came because..."

He hesitated. "There's something I need to tell you."

Something about the way he said it made my stomach knot.

I took a small step closer. "What is it?"

Instead of answering immediately, Brian glanced briefly up and down the street.

Then his eyes returned to mine. "Do you remember the face-off?"

The question caught me off guard.

I frowned slightly. "Of course I do."

He nodded. "I mean..."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you remember how quiet I suddenly became while Miranda was confessing everything?"

Of course I remembered everything especially when he was forced onto his knees.

I nodded. "Yeah, you barely said anything."

Brian nodded. “That was because I was recording.”

My eyebrows pulled together. "What?"

He reached into his hoodie pocket and tapped it lightly. "I secretly started recording almost everything Miranda confessed."

I stared at him. "You..." My eyes widened.

"You actually managed to do that?"

He gave a small shrug. "I figured if nobody believed us later, we'd at least have evidence."

For the first time in days, I felt something close to hope.

"Brian..." I whispered. "That's amazing."

He smiled faintly. "I thought so too."

Then, his smile slowly disappeared.

"But later..." His jaw tightened. "I found out something."

My heart skipped.

The hope I'd just felt instantly shifted into uneasiness. "What is that?"

Brian looked unusually serious. "I replayed the recording and started digging..." He trailed off.

My mouth suddenly felt dry. "What did you find?"

He inhaled slowly and exhaled.

Neither of us spoke for a second.

The wind rustled the nearby trees and somewhere farther down the street, children laughed while riding bicycles.

The normal sounds of the neighborhood became strangely distant.

“Brian…” I breathed out.

Brian finally spoke. "I found out..." He paused again. "That Miranda is actually Dylan's stepsister."

Something pierced my chest.

I simply stared at him blankly. "What?"

Brian didn't look away. "You heard me."

I blinked and shook my head immediately. "No freaking way."

"That's impossible." My voice cracked.

Brian remained completely still. "I wish it was."

I stared at him as though waiting for him to laugh or tell me it was another one of his ridiculous jokes.

Except he didn't smile, he simply looked back at me with an expression so serious that my heart slowly began to sink.

"What?" I breathed again, the single word carrying all the confusion, disbelief, and shock swirling inside me.