Chapter 2We Grew Up Side By Side

Once Michael started dating, my texts to him slowed to a trickle.

But we had a messy digital footprint. Before Sophie came into the picture, our Instagram comments and late-night chat histories blurred the lines of platonic friendship.

Once they were official, Sophie demanded total access to his phone.

They fought about it a few times. I only found out when Michael pulled me aside to apologize, sheepishly admitting Sophie had blocked and deleted my number from his contacts. Since I hadn't reached out to him in weeks anyway, I hadn't even noticed.

Sophie was desperately trying to claw her way into Michael's inner circle. Old money circles are notoriously cliquey, and someone had definitely whispered in her ear about my history with her boyfriend.

I understood her insecurity. So, I took a step back and gave them space.

Tonight, I had planned to drop off his birthday gift and ghost. But as I walked through the heavy velvet curtains of the lounge, my eyes snagged on a figure sitting in the corner. I froze. Just then, my phone lit up with a text.

After reading it, I quietly found a seat at the edge of the room.

"Sharon, you made it!" Michael looked genuinely thrilled. "I heard you've been shadowing your dad at the firm. I figured you'd be too busy closing deals."

I smiled smoothly, handing over the sleek wrapped box. "Happy birthday, Michael."

"Sharon!" Sophie's sugary voice chimed in. "It feels like forever. Are you trying a new mature look? It's giving... pushing thirty."

Sophie was draped in a custom pink couture gown that cost more than a sports car, her hair curled into playful, bouncy waves.

She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what she was saying.

I looked down at my impeccably tailored, razor-sharp designer suit and let out a soft laugh. "Is it? Good. I am aiming for ruthless corporate executive, after all."

Michael immediately jumped in to keep the peace. "Sharon, you know Sophie. She's just playing around. Don't take it to heart."

I didn't take it to heart. I didn't let just anyone into my heart anymore.

I sat a fair distance from the main action, but the acoustics in the room were crisp.

That was when Sophie pulled out the viral internet joke. "Michael, you're a year older than me. Why didn't you visit me in the hospital..."

The crowd erupted in affectionate laughter. The guys ribbed him. "Yeah, Michael! Why weren't you rolling up with a baby bottle for your girl?"

It was harmless teasing. Sophie was beautiful in an innocent, doe-eyed way, and over the past two years, she had managed to charm a few of the guys in our group.

Michael grinned, tossing his arm over the back of the sofa. "I was probably throwing a tantrum and getting grounded by my mom for spitting out my apple juice."

The room dissolved into more laughter.

Michael turned his head, spotting his notoriously strict uncle who had surprisingly shown up to the party. Wanting to test the ice, he threw the question his way. "Uncle Declan, what about you? How would you answer that?"

Declan Prescott was five years older than Michael and me. He was the unexpected miracle child of the Prescott grandparents, born late in their lives.

From the day he drew breath, he was the golden standard. Despite the small age gap, the generational hierarchy was absolute. Factor in Declan's Ivy League degrees, his ruthless ascension in the corporate world, and his devastatingly cold charisma, and every trust fund kid in our circle was secretly terrified of him.

Growing up, I called him Uncle Declan too.

Michael was probably hoping to get a dry, pragmatic business answer out of the man.

One of Michael's friends chuckled nervously. "Come on, man, don't drag Declan into this. The guy runs an empire. When does he have time for romance?"

Then, Declan spoke. "I did visit."

The room went dead silent. "Huh?"

The man who treated boardrooms like war zones added softly, "Not only did I visit, but I held her when she was just a baby."

No one noticed his eyes. They were locked dead onto me, dark and consuming.

"..."

The tension broke as the room burst into roaring laughter. "Holy shit, Declan! I didn't know you had a sense of humor!"

No one took him seriously.

Except me.

Declan didn't look away. Even though I actively avoided meeting his gaze, the sheer weight of his stare felt reckless and entirely too loud.

When the party started winding down, I slipped out and found my car in the underground valet garage.

I opened the door and froze. Someone was already in the backseat.

My driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, clearly unsure of what to do.

From the shadows of the backseat, Declan's low, gravelly chuckle filled the space. "Mind giving me a lift? I didn't bring my driver tonight."

I slid in, and the heavy door thudded shut. The man beside me leaned his head back against the leather and murmured, "I seem to have forgotten my address. Miss Astor, care to let me crash at your place?"