𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝟏𝟏| 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞

But the last time that I saw Micheal Benedict was two weeks ago.

Despite my frequent visits to Esmeralda's home and my numerous shifts at the bookstore, I hadn't crossed paths with Michael even once. I'd seen Danny and Tommy a couple of times, but Michael was nowhere to be found. Was he avoiding me again?

I started to wonder if he regretted opening up to me about his time in prison and if that was why he was avoiding me. I wasn't exactly a genius, but it was easy to piece together that he had a complicated past weighing on him, and perhaps he felt exposed or vulnerable after sharing it. I wished he could see that I didn't judge him for it—deep down, I sensed that he had gone to prison during those months he had disappeared. While the reason lingered in my thoughts, I wanted to know, but it was clear he wasn't ready to talk about it. I could easily look it up online, but I wanted to hear it from him. Plus, he had promised to get angry if I found out through other means. And I think that I'd rather avoid Micheal Benedict becoming seriously angry at me.

"Uh no, you idiot." My brother's voice pulled me away from my thoughts. He spoke in a detesting tone with his dark-skinned face twisted up in disgust.

I wondered who exactly he was speaking to, from the unprofessional tone that he used I knew that it couldn't be a business partner. Most likely it was one of his friends,

Probably Christopher Ford.

Despite my curiosity, I knew better than to ask my brother about anything related to his company. Andrew would just tell me not to worry and then try to steer me toward finding something else to occupy my time. Now, I made it a point to avoid the same room when he was on the phone dealing with business matters.

For a moment, Andrew's dark brown eyes flicked up to where I stood in the kitchen. "—She's not doing anything like that. End of discussion," he continued, his tone sharp and aggressive.

Those words catch my attention immediately—Was Andrew having a conversation about me? When my older brother catches me looking at him, I pulled my eyes back to the sizzling pan in front of me. Perhaps he's discussing something ballet related... I did have a performance coming up this weekend.

"Get off my phone with that bi—" My brother's eyes found me again, and he instantly silenced himself. Disappointment washed over me; every time he cursed in front of me, he owed me $100.

I reached for two glass bowls and a plate from the cabinet, my curiosity piqued about what the person on the other end was asking him. Throughout the call, Andrew had been making sly remarks, insisting he wouldn't comply with whatever they were requesting. I poured the warm tomato soup into both bowls, then set Andrew's beside his grilled cheese on the plate.

"What do you want to drink, Drew?" I asked softly as I walked over to the glass refrigerator.

"Root beer, I have some in the refrigerator," Andrew replied immediately, not bothering to pull the phone away from his ear. That confirmed my suspicion: the conversation he was having wasn't with a colleague.

Andrew stood up from his seat and placed two coasters and silverware on the big glass table. Cooking had been one of the few skills I'd mastered since childhood. In a way, I considered it a love language of mine; it felt good to be able to do something for my brother, especially since he had financed my entire lifestyle.

"I have to go," Andrew spoke just as I placed hos place and drink down in front of him. "And if you wish to continue this conversation, don't even bother calling me back."

With that, he pulled his phone from his ear and tossed it onto the table.

My eyebrows arched when my brother groaned loudly and rubbed his stomach dramatically, "This looks good sissy," He complimented, looking up at me with a mocking large smile.