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Sofia
Bryce didn’t expect his brother to return his call this quickly. Liam called the next morning and agreed to meet.
Two days later, at five o’clock sharp, we arrive at Liam Van Der Linden’s Upper East Side brownstone home. It looks nothing like the modest one I live in. Then again, you can’t compare the Bronx to the Upper East Side.
When Bryce rings the door bell, a mixed-race black woman opens the door and greets us.
“Bryce, come in.”
“Sibyl.” Bryce lets me in first. He follows right behind me.
Bryce’s ex-wife is beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, and impeccably dressed.
Thank God, I dressed for the occasion.
I invested as much time in my appearance as I had when Ciara first met Bryce. Still, I don’t look anything like Sibyl Van Der Linden.
At least I don’t feel ugly and frumpy standing next to her gorgeousness.
“I’d like to present Sofia,” Bryce says.
“It’s a pleasure,” Sibyl extends a manicured hand.
“Like wise,” I say shaking it.
The white Louboutins high heels—my boyfriend bought me in Paris—give me height, but his ex-wife is even taller than my sister.
For several comfortable long seconds, neither Bryce nor Sibyl looks at each other, their attention focused on me.
My heart beats a fast rhythm.
The tension is insupportable.
Sibyl clears her throat. “Liam is waiting for us in his office. He received the information your team leader sent over, and I took a look at it. Sofia, you’ve been hanging out with a shady character.”
“Unwillingly. I made a bad decision and it’s still haunting me today.”
“We all make mistakes that haunt us,” Sibyl says.
For the first time since we arrived, Sibyl and Bryce lock eyes. Bryce doesn’t say a word, he holds her gaze.
The discomfort in that exchange is palpable.
“If you’ll follow me,” Sibyl says.
Bryce and I nod.
We climb the stairs to the third level of the house.
Sibyl and Liam have a stunning home. The walls adjacent to the stairs are covered with photos of their three beautiful kids.
I wonder if Bryce is checking them out.
Liam is waiting for us at the top of the staircase outside of his home office.
He doesn’t look like I imagined.
He’s taller than his brother by a few inches, he has brown eyes, and he doesn’t have my boyfriend’s good looks. That said, like my man, he’s wearing a navy suit and white shirt, sans tie.
