Chapter 2Framed As My Brother's Mistress

My brother took our father’s name, Langford. I took our mother’s maiden name, Ross.

It was a family arrangement decided before I drew my first breath.

"He's my—"

"Shut your mouth!" Morgan snapped, cutting me off with a vicious glare.

"Still calling my man your 'brother'? Say it one more time. I dare you. See if I don't drag you across this pavement by your hair."

The murmurs swelled around us like a gathering storm.

"First she swindles his cash, now she’s claiming family? What a psycho."

"The audacity. Shameless."

Swallowing the acid rising in my throat, I yanked my phone out to pull up the banking notification from last month.

"Open your eyes and read the memo!" I shoved the screen toward her face. "Read what it says!"

On the glowing screen, in black and white: [$8,000.00 — Happy first day of college, baby sister!]

Morgan’s eyes flicked over the text. A dark, ugly flicker passed through her features, her knuckles turning white around her leather handbag.

"See?" she hissed, twisting her face into venom. "You even got him using pet names."

My jaw dropped. Was she illiterate? Did 'baby sister' look like romantic shorthand to her?

Before I could speak, I swiped frantically to my camera roll, finding the picture of Gabriel and me taken at our family cabin over Fourth of July.

"I told you! We share the same parents! He is my brother!"

Morgan’s lower lip began to tremble. Her eyes welled with sudden, glistening tears.

"I can’t believe it," she whispered, her voice cracking for the audience. "You two... you’re already taking vacations together?"

She raised her arm and struck me.

"Smack!"

The blow caught my cheekbone with a sickening crack. The spectators erupted into murmurs of righteous validation, nodding along, cheering her defense of her territory. Not a single person questioned her. No one looked at the facts. They simply bought the theater, directing their bile at me, dragging my brother’s character down with it.

I was the victim here.

I was the one soaked in freezing iced coffee, reeking of stale cream, my face burning from an unprovoked assault.

And I was supposed to stand here and beg for their belief?

To hell with keeping my composure.

I jammed my phone into my pocket, lowered my shoulders, and hurled my entire weight into her chest.

Morgan was too busy playing the weeping, betrayed partner to brace herself. Her platform heels slipped on the grass, and she went crashing down onto her back.

I dropped over her, straddling her hips, and drove my palm into the side of her face.

"Smack! Smack! Smack!"

"Are you legally blind?"

"Smack!"

"That one’s for the lies you posted!"

"Smack!"

"That one’s for the coffee on my head!"

"Smack!"

"You think you’re ever stepping foot into my family's house? You aren't fit to wipe our floor!"

"Get off me!" Morgan shrieked, clawing at my wrists, her manicured nails raking lines of fire down my arms.

Before I could pin her shoulders, two thick pairs of hands clamped around my bicep and collar. I was hauled backward into the air by the two varsity players she’d brought as muscle.

"Let go of me!" I kicked wildly, but against two six-foot athletes, my boots only struck empty air.

Morgan scrambled to her feet. Her blowout was ruined, leaves clung to her designer cardigan, and a smear of blood colored the corner of her lip. She smoothed her hair with trembling, furious hands, closed the distance, and drove the toe of her boot directly into my stomach.

A breathless, white-hot agony tore through my abdomen.

"Hit me again!" she hissed, grabbing a handful of my soaked hair and wrenching my face toward the sky. "You think you're tough? You think you can lose your mind on me?"

She turned to the circle of onlookers, her voice ringing with triumphant fury. "Look at her! Bridget Ross, incoming freshman, trying to steal a senior's man! Stealing his money, and attacking me when she gets caught! Keep an eye on your own boyfriends, girls, before this parasite gets her claws into them too!"

The crowd jeered. A few girls in the back shifted uncomfortably, murmuring that maybe someone should step in, but their voices were drowned beneath the chorus of insults.

"Break it up! What the hell is going on here?!"

The crowd parted. Mr. Warren, our academic counselor, marched through the circle, his brow furrowed in severe disapproval. Grace was running right beside him, out of breath.

The two athletes dropped me instantly. I hit the turf on my knees, coughing.

Grace dropped down beside me, wrapping an arm around my shaking frame.

Mr. Warren stepped forward to assess the damage, but before he could look at me, Morgan threw herself into his side, dissolving into breathless sobs.

"Mr. Warren... please..." she wept, clutching his forearm. "Bridget Ross scammed thousands from my partner, and when I tried to reason with her, she tackled me! She attacked me out of nowhere!"

The two athletes chimed in without missing a beat. "We saw the whole thing, sir. She went crazy on Morgan."

Grace bristled, shouting, "That is a total lie! They ambushed her! They poured iced coffee all over her head!"

"Enough!" Mr. Warren shouted, his face dark with fury. "All of you, to the department office. Now."