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My heart drops into my stomach and my head goes fuzzy. I grapple for the sheet on my bed, clutching it, trying to catch my breath as a wave of nausea spills over me. Jaxon watches me, unspeaking, but the concern on his face is evident.
“Paris,” I say under my breath. “Her fairytale.”
“Fairytale?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat and take another breath so I don’t pass out. “When we were kids, she swore she’d live there someday. It was hard, you know, growing up…with my mom. We’d play pretend all the time, and Julie loved to talk about Paris. She told me she’d go there someday and live as a princess in her castle, far away from here and far away from our mother.”
Jaxon is silent, watching me. Bile rises in my throat, but I push it back down. I can’t lose it, not now. Not yet.
“Okay,” he says. “So, she moved to Paris. Lots of people relocate.”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “If they can afford it.”
Jaxon says nothing to this, but our gazes meet in a knowing look, and the nausea that has been threatening to spill over is at the floodgates. The dizziness washes over me again, and I have to close my eyes and rest my head against the pillow.
“What did Julie’s husband do for work?” Jaxon asks finally. I force my eyes open and meet his once more.
“He was a lawyer. A damn good one. With a prestigious company.”
“Benefits?”
“Great ones.”
There’s nothing more to say, and we both know it, but I still don’t want to believe it. Not my sister. Not Julie. She’d never do something like that; not to me.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Jaxon says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m really sorry, Joey.”
“Don’t be.” I struggle to sit up, but it only makes the nausea worse, and Jaxon grabs the trash bin from the side of my bed just in time to thrust it under my chin as I vomit up green Jell-O and milk.
“Are you okay?”
“Never been better.” I wipe the back of my hand across my lips. My skin feels cool and clammy, like I’m about to pass out. I lay back down, eyes closed again to ward off the sickness. “It’s her fault,” I say as Jaxon hands me a damp rag for my head. “She framed me.”
Jaxon says nothing; he doesn’t have to. It’s pretty evident, even to someone who didn’t know the entire situation to begin with.
“I need to contact her,” I say to Jaxon. “I need her to meet me. I need her to confess.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know, but I have to, don’t I? I have no choice, Mr. Jaxon, because I’m innocent and my sister is not.”
“I wish I could help you, Joey,” says Jaxon. “But without evidence or proof, there’s nothing you can do. There’s not even anything I can do to help prove your innocence.”
“Not unless I can get Julie to confess,” I whisper. “I just have to see her, face-to-face. If I can talk to her in person, I can get her to confess. She’s my sister, right? She can’t believe this is okay.”
“She moved to Europe,” Jaxon points out. “I’m not sure if she really cares.”
I fall silent, because I know he’s right. My sister has stabbed me in the back, sentenced me to a life of misery so she can live the life she’s always dreamed of. I’m nothing to her, not anymore.
And she’s nothing to me.
“There’s something you can do,” I say, and Jaxon meets my eyes. Something about my expression must worry him, because he’s already shaking his head.
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. I already did you a favor, and I’m lucky it didn’t get me fired.”
