Chapter 108: A Private Jet? In This Economy?!

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Her face changed, and I could tell what she was going to say even before the words came out.

"Stop saying nonsense, Alex. And don’t forget, Father was shot because of you."

A cold knot formed in my stomach, but I didn’t let it show.

"Careful, Blair. You might be walking into a foolish argument."

"A bullet went through his hand because of you, Alex! Do you even know how much pain he’s in?"

"Yeah, I was there."

"You watched as your husband did that to Father."

"Father hit me first."

"That doesn’t justify what happened!"

"No, but it sure explains why it happened."

Blair’s face turned red, and she stepped closer, lowering her voice like the neighbors might somehow hear us through those huge gates. "You could have stopped him, if I didn’t know any better... I’d think you wanted Father dead."

I was taken aback by her boldness. "You were right there, Blair. You saw him strike me. You watched him treat me like I was nothing and said nothing. Yet somehow, I’m still to blame for what happened to him?"

Blair looked away but quickly regained her composure, holding the wedding invitation tighter.

I forced a small, humorless smile. "And you’re still trying to make me feel small because you’re unsure what to do when I push back."

Her face tightened, and finally, she lowered the invitation.

"Fine. If you don’t want to come, then don’t. But don’t expect us to keep reaching out to you, we don’t care."

"Blair, you can safely assume I won’t be waiting by the phone."

She seemed like she wanted to say something more, but the words stayed locked behind her lips.

Eventually, she turned away, her heels clicking against the stone path as she walked toward the waiting car. She didn’t look back until she reached the door, and even then, frustration showed more than sadness in her expression.

I watched her leave, staying at the entrance until the car drove through the gates. Only then did I close the door and release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

For a moment, I stood there in the quiet hallway, staring at my reflection in the polished console table. I had kept my voice steady. I hadn’t yelled or given her the satisfaction of seeing me lose my temper, which was probably the best I could do after that conversation.

But it still hurt.

I hated that it hurt, especially after convincing myself that I didn’t care what the Sinclairs thought of me anymore. The truth is, some wounds don’t just vanish because those who inflicted them are no longer in your life.

They just get quieter, waiting for an unexpected visit or a hurtful comment to bring them back to the surface.

When Lorenzo returned, I had finished packing and was perched on the edge of the bed, inspecting my passport as though it might suddenly say I was banned from traveling abroad.

He walked in with his jacket draped over one arm, his long pale hair loosely tied back, and his usual calm demeanor. His gaze shifted from me to the suitcase before landing on my face.

"You’re ready."

"I’ve been ready for about six hours. But my wardrobe, on the other hand, has suffered an emotional crisis."

A slight smile crept onto his face as he walked toward me. "Really?"

He leaned down to kiss my forehead, his hand briefly resting at the back of my neck. His thumb brushed against a fading mark, and I could feel my shoulders relax even though I didn’t want them to.

"Did something happen while I was gone?" he asked.

I hesitated before shrugging. "Uh...Blair stopped by."

Though Lorenzo’s expression didn’t change much, I noticed his attention sharpen as his hand stilled on my neck.

"Your half-sister?"

"Unless you know another red-haired woman who likes to drop by unannounced to people she can’t freaking stand."

"What did she want?"

"To remind me that I’m a terrible son, a selfish brother, and apparently the reason our father got shot. Oh, and she invited me to her wedding, which is generous considering I thought we were done pretending to be a family."

Lorenzo observed me quietly, his green eyes searching my face with a gaze that made me want to look away. "Did she upset you?"

"Not really."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," I admitted. "But I didn’t let her in, and she left without anyone getting hurt, so I think we can call it a successful afternoon."

His jaw tightened slightly at the mention of my father but he didn’t push it further. Instead, he picked up my suitcase and headed toward the door as if the conversation was over.

"Come on, tesoro. We’ve got a flight to catch."

I followed him downstairs, trying to shake off the anxiety from Blair’s visit as we walked through the entrance hall. The guards were already outside, and the evening air felt cool against my skin as Lorenzo helped me into the car.

I glanced back at the house before the door closed, feeling a mix of relief and lingering sadness that I couldn’t quite articulate.

Maybe Paris would help.

Or maybe I just needed to see something new enough to distract me from everything I had been trying to forget.

The drive to the airport was comfortably quiet, with Lorenzo occasionally glancing at his phone while I watched the city lights blur past the tinted windows.

When we finally got there, I expected the usual airport process...long lines, security checks, and the headache of someone asking me to take off my shoes like they personally resented my presence.

Instead, the car drove straight toward a private hangar.

I gazed out the window as the aircraft came into view, its sleek white body glowing under the floodlights surrounding the runway. It was way bigger than I expected, with shiny windows and a staircase leading up to the entrance.

A few crew members stood nearby, chatting quietly with the guards, while a man in a dark suit walked over to Lorenzo to greet him.

Turning to my husband, I asked, "Is that ours?"

Lorenzo glanced my way. "Yes."

"O...ours?!"

"Mine, technically."

I looked back at the jet. "You own an entire airplane!"