Chapter 19 Blood and Betrayal
Carmen’s POV
Morning routines were sacred.
At least for me.
I stood in front of my mirror, wearing nothing but my silk robe.
The sun hit just right, the kind of warm glow that made my skin look alive. I was massaging moisturizer into my cheeks, slow circles, taking my time.
The world could burn outside, and I’d still be doing my skincare.
“A flawless skin is life,” I muttered to myself, a small grin tugging at my lips.
The air smelled like vanilla and mint, clean, soft, and expensive.
Some lazy R&B played in the background, the kind that made mornings feel too perfect to be real.
Everything was calm and peaceful.
Until someone started banging on my door.
I frowned, freezing mid-swipe.
“Who the hell…” I muttered. “If that’s the gardener again….”
Then I heard it.
“CARMENNN!!!!”
That voice.
It hit me straight in the chest. It was not the gardener.
That was Mark.
And he sounded like thunder.
For a second, my heart tripped. But then, I smiled. I guess he finally found out.
I tied my robe tighter, brushed my hair behind my ears, and gave myself one last look. If I was about to face a storm, I should look flawless doing it.
When I walked down the stairs, I saw him.
Mark stood in the middle of the living room, his shoulders stiff, jaw tight. His veins lines had become so visible.
He was still in his office suit, though his white shirt was wrinkled, his tie hanging loose.
His eyes; that cold, sharp blue demons locked on me the second I stepped into the room.
God, my brother could look terrifying when he wanted to.
“Good morning to you too,” I said lightly. “You look awful. Do you care for some coffee?”
He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.
“Cut the crap, Carmen. You think I wouldn’t find out?”
I stopped halfway to the counter and tilted my head. “About what?”
“The pictures.”
The air dropped.
Oh those.
That was the reason for the early morning outburst.
I sighed and reached for my nail polish. “You mean those harmless little things?”
He slammed his hand down on the counter before I could even sit. The sound cracked through the room. My polish tipped over, spilling red across the marble like blood.
“Those pictures ruined her life,” he said. His voice wasn’t just angry, it was broken.
It had been a while since I saw my brother lose his temper like this.
“This is all Becca's fault,” I murmured.
“Relax, Mark. It’s not that deep. They were just pictures.”
“Fake pictures,” he shot back. “Edited on my company’s system. You realize how low that is?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re being dramatic. You’ve always had a thing for weak women, but this one? Becca? She’s not who you think she is. I was saving you from another mess.”
“Saving me?” He let out a harsh laugh. “You think this is saving?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “From her. From getting played again. Didn't you see the way she looked at you, like she owned you,”
“When women like her smell money, they will do anything to keep it forever with themselves,”
“Don’t,” he said, voice tight. “Don’t twist this. You humiliated her. You made her leave me,”
“She left because she’s weak,” I said quietly. “Simple as that.”
He stared at me like he didn’t know me.
“Do you even hear yourself? You faked something. You lied. You destroyed a person’s name.”
I looked him dead in the eye. “You’re welcome.”
His face changed. “What?”
“Someone had to do it,” I said, calmer now.
“You fall for people too fast. Every woman with tears in her eyes becomes your next savior. I just made sure your heart didn’t ruin your name again.”
He stared at me , not angry now, just hurt. And that, somehow, felt worse.
“What did she ever do to you?” he asked.
“She existed,” I said before I could stop myself. “She walked into your life like she could replace me.”
The silence in the room was heavy. Of course I was jealous of all the affection he gave to her.
They were mine.
“Don’t act innocent either,” I added. “You made a bet, remember? You and your friends , who could make Becca fall first.”
His eyes flickered for just a second but I saw it.
There was guilt in it.
“Not like it was an actual feeling of love so cut the crap,”
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.
“Please,” I said with a dry laugh. “Besides, the pictures weren’t completely fake. We just… adjusted the timestamps.”
“We?” His tone dropped.
“Yes. Olivia told me about the bet. She helped me fix the photos too.”
His hand shot out again, hitting the counter. A wine glass fell, shattered, and the red liquid bled across the floor.
“Get out,” he said, his voice got so cold that it didn’t sound like him.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You and Olivia. Pack your things and get out of my house. I’m done cleaning up your mess.”
“Mark, you’re overreacting.”
“Don’t test me!” His voice rose, raw and furious.
The air felt too tight. I couldn’t breathe properly.
“You think this is a joke? You broke something you’ll never understand. You crossed a line.”
He turned toward the door. “You have until tonight.”
Something twisted hard in my chest. Pride was the only thing that kept my voice steady.
“You’ll regret this,” I said, even though my throat burned.
He stopped, still facing away. “I already do.”
That one hit deep.
I wanted to throw something, to scream, to say anything that could hurt him back. But all that came out was:
“She’ll destroy you,” I said, forcing a smirk. “When she’s done playing the heartbroken angel, she’ll take everything you’ve got. And when that happens, you’ll remember this.”
He turned slightly, just enough for me to see the ice in his eyes. “At least she was real, Carmen.”
Then he walked out, the door slamming so hard the sound stayed ringing in my ears.
The R&B track upstairs kept playing, soft and careless. It almost made me sick.
Olivia came out of the hallway, barefoot, wearing one of my robes. “He’s serious, isn’t he?”
I let out a shaky breath. “He’s bluffing. He always does.”
But my hands trembled as I bent down to pick up the polish bottle.
Olivia stepped closer. “What do we do now?”
I laughed. It came out dry, hollow.
“We have to pack of course but it won't be for so long, he would come back running to me,” I murmured.
Still my gaze was fixed on the door he walked through.
Would Mark really come back?
I found myself questioning this.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I believed my own lie.
He couldn't really sever ties with his sister, could he?