Chapter 31

Violet’s POV

I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind swirling with confusion and anger. Why was everyone acting like this? The brothers were supposed to be my family, my support system. So why, why did it feel like they were all turning on me for simply choosing Ryker? I could hear their whispers behind my back, their bitter words hanging in the air. Ryker. A name that had once been a source of comfort was now a trigger for their fury. It didn’t matter that my reasons for being with him were deeply personal. 

That it was about more than just what they assumed—about more than mere self-interest. But they didn’t get it. They couldn’t understand.

Logan’s expression when I entered the room was the last straw. His dark eyes narrowed, and that tight-lipped frown of his—so utterly familiar, yet foreign at the same time—stirred something inside me, something sharp and bitter. I couldn’t help it. I clenched my fists, willing the irritation to go away. But it wouldn’t. How dare he look at me like that? As if I was the one who had wronged everyone.

I could feel my pulse quicken as I slowly walked toward him, each step deliberate. The anger that had been simmering inside me for days began to surge. I had to get answers, and he was the one who owed them to me. I stopped a few feet from him, crossing my arms.

“What’s this all about, Logan?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Why is everyone so angry? Why does it feel like you’re all punishing me for being with Ryker? I didn’t ask for this.”

Logan didn’t say anything at first. His gaze shifted away from mine, like he couldn’t bear to look at me. He took a deep breath, as though trying to regain some semblance of control, before speaking in a low voice.

“Nothing’s going on, Violet,” he said, but his words were as empty as the space between us. The tone was flat—no emotion, no warmth.

I stared at him, my chest tightening. “Don’t lie to me,” I said, voice barely above a whisper but filled with raw emotion. “I can feel it. Everyone’s acting different, and it’s all because of me. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, turning his back on me, as though I were the one who didn’t matter.

“No,” I shot back, the words bitter on my tongue. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You never did.”

Before he could respond, he walked toward the door. The anger in me flared, and I wasn’t about to let him leave without giving me the answers I needed.

“Where are you going?” I called out, following him closely.

Logan didn’t respond, his pace quickening as he reached the door. I tried to catch up, but just as I reached him, the door swung open. A soft rustle filled the air, and my breath caught in my throat as the figure stepped into the room.

She was... elegant, like a vision. Tall, graceful, with soft waves of auburn hair cascading down her back. The moment she entered, Logan’s entire demeanor shifted. I could see it in the way his eyes softened, his shoulders relaxing. He didn’t even hesitate.

Without a second thought, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. The embrace was tight, intimate—too intimate. Too sudden. The confusion that had been swirling in my mind turned into something sharper, colder. It was like a punch to the gut.

I stood there, frozen. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, my breath quickening. My mind raced to catch up with what was happening. Who was this woman? Why had Logan reacted that way?

“Logan,” I called, my voice trembling despite myself. “Who is she?”

But Logan didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence. He pulled back from the woman, but only slightly, just enough to look at her with that same look—the one he had never given me. The one I had longed for but never received. It was like I didn’t even exist.

I stepped forward, my voice louder this time. “Logan, answer me. Who is she?”

The woman smiled softly, her eyes flicking over to me with a sort of cool indifference. “I’m someone who matters,” she said, her voice smooth, almost musical.

I blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my heart pounding faster. The sting of jealousy, of betrayal, was almost too much to bear. But I pushed it down. I couldn’t afford to break it right now. Not with Logan standing there, acting as though nothing was wrong.

Logan finally turned to me, his face tight with something I couldn’t quite place. Guilt? Disappointment? “Violet,” he began, his tone slow and careful, “this is Isabelle. Isabelle, this is Violet.”

Isabelle. The name felt foreign, like it shouldn’t be in my mouth. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, and I refused to look at Logan, unwilling to show just how hurt I felt. He didn’t even bother to introduce her properly, didn’t even give me the courtesy of an explanation. It was clear he wanted to avoid this conversation, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“What’s going on, Logan?” I asked, my voice low but firm. “Why is she here?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at Isabelle, his eyes soft and affectionate. And at that moment, I understood. There was no mistaking the way he looked at her—the same way he used to look at me, the same way I had once imagined he might look at me in the future.

I felt a wave of nausea hit me, but I swallowed it down, determined not to let him see how much his actions were affecting me. I’d been playing. A part of me had always known it, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Now I had no choice.

“You know what?” I said, shaking my head as I took a step back. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Logan.”

I turned sharply, my movements full of purpose, and walked toward the door. But just before I left, I glanced back one last time. Logan was still standing there, his gaze never leaving Isabelle.