Chapter 3 - The Sister’s ShadowTwo days later, the rain returned, battering the stone facade of Blackwater Point with the relentless cruelty of a coastal gale.
Sadie was in the second-floor linen room, folding crisp white sheets, when the heavy oak front door chimed below. Voices drifted up the grand staircase—one belonging to Mrs. Abernathy, sounding flustered and defensive, and the other sharp, brassy, and completely out of place in the hushed halls of the Corsini estate.
"I don't care if the master is having a séance, I'm freezing, and my sister works here!" a woman shouted from the foyer.
Sadie dropped a stack of pillowcases. Her face drained of all color.
Brooke.
Without waiting to be called, Sadie hurried down the stairs, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. In the grand entryway, standing beside a puddle of rainwater leaking from her cheap leather boots, was her older sister. Brooke wore a bright pink puffer jacket that was far too thin for the New England chill, her blonde hair dyed with dark roots showing, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
"Brooke, what are you doing here?" Sadie hissed, rushing across the marble floor and grabbing her sister's arm. "How did you even find this place?"
"Oh, please, Sadie, don't give me the attitude," Brooke snapped, jerking her arm away. "I’ve been sleeping in my Honda Civic for three days because my landlord in Providence locked me out. I saw your forwarding address on a piece of mail left at Mom's place. I figured if my little sister can land a cushy gig working for a multimillionaire mobster, she can spot me a few hundred bucks for a motel."
"Lower your voice!" Sadie glanced frantically toward the hallway leading to Julian’s study. The last thing she needed was Michael Doyle or Julian himself walking out to find her white-trash sister screaming in the foyer.
Too late.
The heavy study door clicked open. Julian stepped out into the hallway.
He didn't run or shout. He simply walked toward them with that slow, predatory stillness that made everyone in Boston lower their voices. He wore a charcoal turtleneck that hugged his broad shoulders, his dark hair slightly tousled, his eyes fixing entirely on Brooke.
"Is there a problem here, Mrs. Abernathy?" Julian asked, his voice cutting through the space like a razor.
"No, sir—well, this young lady came barging through the front gates claiming to be Sadie's sister—" the cook stammered.
Brooke’s eyes widened as she took in Julian Corsini in person. For a second, her sharp, defensive demeanor evaporated, replaced by the awed calculation of someone staring down a walking bank account.
"Oh," Brooke breathed, smoothing down her cheap sweater with a nervous laugh. "You must be Julian. Sadie talks about you all the time. Well, not about you, you know, but... wow. The pictures in the paper don't do you justice."
Sadie felt sick to her stomach. "Brooke, shut up. Get your bag, I'm calling a cab—"
"No, wait," Julian interrupted, holding up a single hand. His eyes never left Sadie’s pale face. He saw the sheer panic in her eyes—not fear of him, but fear of what Brooke might say. "Your sister is welcome to dry off. Mrs. Abernathy, get her some tea and a towel in the kitchen."
"I don't need tea, I need cash—" Brooke started, but Julian’s dark, unblinking stare made her snap her mouth shut.
"We will talk in my study, Sadie," Julian said quietly, turning on his heel and walking back down the hall. "Now."
Sadie followed him into the dark, book-lined room, her knees trembling. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from the storm outside.
"Who is she, Sadie?" Julian asked, standing behind his desk. He didn't offer her a seat.
"She's my sister. You heard her," Sadie whispered, staring at the floorboards.
"People don't show up uninvited at a secure compound in a nor'easter just to ask for gas money unless they are desperate," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave. "Or unless they are blackmailing someone. What does she have on you, Sadie? Did you steal from your last job? Is that why you took a live-in position at the end of the earth?"
The accusation stung so sharply that Sadie’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with sudden, furious tears.
"You think I'm a thief?" she choked out, her voice shaking. "You think I came here to steal from you? I haven't stolen a damn thing in my life, Mr. Corsini! I've spent three years working eighty hours a week trying to pay off my dead father's medical bills while my sister pawned everything my mother owned to pay off bookies in Worcester!"
Julian stared at her. The fury in her eyes wasn't the calculation of a liar; it was the raw, exhausted rage of someone at the absolute end of her rope.
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"Then explain why she's here," he demanded softly.
Sadie closed her eyes, a single tear breaking free and sliding down her cheek. "Because Brooke didn't just come for money. She brought something with her. Something she found in Mom’s attic last week when she was cleaning out our old things. Something that belongs to you."
