Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Aubrey
Pain fills Ellie’s face as I make my confession. It’s like I’ve landed a death blow and the air is vacating her lungs. I knew
this moment would come. I didn’t know when, I didn’t know how. It’s all for the best, though—this woman had to find out one
way or another that she’s been living a lie. So be it if I’m the catalyst. I don’t mind being the villain in Ellie’s life—not
if it gets me a little closer to my goal. Oh, the twisted web I’ve managed to weave. Just wait until she finds out the rest
of her pathetic reality.
“H-how?” she finally sputters.
I feel bad for her—I do—but not enough to continue the charade. “My mom was interning for the summer when she met your dad.
He offered to drive her home one night when her car wouldn’t start. He raped her in the backseat. I came screaming into this
world nine months later.” I tip my chin up, just daring her to challenge my version of events. “She was only twenty-three
and he was fifty-four. She tried to press charges but your father’s lawyers buried her in accusations and smear campaigns.
She didn’t report the rape, but that did no good because she still got fired. He ruined her.”
“How old are you?” Ellie finally thinks to ask.
“I just turned twenty-seven,” I tell her.
She presses her lips together, shaking her head with disbelief. “I don’t believe you.” I raise my eyebrows. Of course she
doesn’t. Ellie is stubborn and spoiled, used to living her life in a safe little bubble—but I’ve come to pop it. “I grew up
across the river in North Bergen. My first fifteen years we lived in low-income housing and I went to a private school on
grants. And then my mom married my step-dad and he abused me until I was seventeen. I ran away and haven’t looked back since.”
“Prove it.” El’s tone is arrogant.
“I don’t really know how you expect me to do that . . .” I think of my birth certificate, the line for father left blank—the
glaring missing piece in my lineage. “My mom didn’t tell me who my real father was until I was a teenager; from that point
forward I became obsessed. With him. With you. With your lives here. With everything that was withheld from me. I used to
put myself in your shoes, dream of what it would be like to live in a penthouse with a nanny and dance classes and a degree
from Columbia.”
Ellie tilts her head, her eyes narrowing with anger.
“I’ve been watching, waiting, dreaming of telling you the truth. Wondering if we’d get along, what it would be like to have
a sister. And then I realized I’m your sister from the other side of the tracks. I grew up in your shadow and for years I
was fixated on why your father chose you and why he didn’t choose me. Why he didn’t love me like he did you.”
“Maybe he didn’t know about you. Maybe your mom was lying,” Ellie snaps.
I shake my head, rage bubbling to life in my system. “Or maybe he’s just a piece of shit.”
Ellie glares at me, a mix of anger, resentment, and pain swirling in her hazel irises. She’s so like me, but not. It’s like staring into a mirror with a slightly distorted reflection. Her lips press into a thin line before she finally says, “I don’t believe you.”
I suck in a breath, squaring my shoulders and turning to face her fully. “That’s understandable,” I say. “I think it’s better
if I show you, then.”