Engaged to My Sister. Obsessed With Me.

Chapter 9- DARNELL'S POV

“Aren’t you going to eat anything before leaving?” Simone stood by the door, watching me get ready for work.

“I’m not hungry.”

I unlocked my phone, opened Amy’s contact, and sent a message before buttoning the cuffs of my shirt.

ME: Is Rhea Bennett there yet?

Amy started typing… then stopped.

I stared at the screen for a second too long. No reply.

Something tight and restless coiled deeper in my chest.

“Andrew told me you haven’t eaten properly for days. Is that true?” Simone asked quietly.

I lifted my gaze to her reflection in the mirror. “I eat at work.”

It was the same answer I’d given yesterday. And the day before that.

I locked my phone, set it on the dresser, then reached for my watch and fastened it around my wrist. The metal felt cold against my skin.

“Jamie…” Simone hesitated. “Are you using again?”

My hand stilled.

I looked away from her, jaw tightening until my teeth hurt. I straightened the collar of my shirt, picked up the bottle of cologne, and sprayed once at my throat.

When I stepped toward the door, she caught my arm.

“Jamie…”

Her voice cracked in a way that made irritation rise faster than guilt.

I didn’t have the patience for concern this morning.

“For the last time,” I said, pulling my arm free, “it’s Darnell.”

She flinched. Barely. But I saw it.

Simone and my mother had always called me Jamie. After the funeral, I buried that name with her. Simone was the only person who still used it—as if saying it enough times could bring back the boy I used to be.

She moved in front of me before I could leave again. Her hands came up and cupped my face.

I stayed still, staring past her shoulder.

“Baby… I know I could never replace your mother.” Her thumbs brushed my jaw gently. “But I love you. And I’m worried.”

There it was again.

Worried.

Everyone was worried.

I took hold of her wrists and lowered her hands carefully. “I’m getting late. I’ll see you later.”

I walked past her without another word.

The moment I reached the staircase, a sharp ringing exploded in my ears.

My hand gripped the railing.

The hallway tilted slightly, then steadied. A pulse throbbed behind my eyes, deep and vicious, like something trying to crack its way out of my skull.

I inhaled slowly through my nose.

Not now.

“Are you alright, sir?” Andrew asked from below.

I looked up too fast and nearly collided with him. He’d climbed halfway up the stairs without me noticing.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

“Should I call—”

“I said I’m fine.”

The words came out harder than intended.

Andrew stepped back immediately. He knew better than to push when I was in this mood.

I continued downstairs, forcing each step until the pounding dulled enough for me to think.

By the time I reached the front doors, the pain had retreated to a manageable hum.

I stepped outside into the morning air before Simone could follow me. If she saw me like that, she’d spend the entire day calling doctors I had no intention of seeing.

I headed toward my car, unlocking it as I walked.

Before I could open the door, another vehicle rolled into the driveway and stopped beside me.

The window slid down.

“Get your miserable ass in here,” Maurice called, grinning like he owned the place.

I stared at him for a second, then reached into my car and grabbed the yellow bottle from the center console, slipping it into my pocket before shutting the door.

I crossed to Maurice’s car and got in.

“How are you here?” I asked the second the door closed.

He clicked his tongue dramatically. “That’s how you greet your best friend after two months?”

“I thought you were in Lebanon.”

“I was.” He pulled out of the driveway one-handed. “Then I wasn’t.”

The car swung around the corner too sharply. Typical Maurice.

I leaned my head back against the seat. “You said you’d be gone a year.”

“I finished early.” He flashed a grin. “Occupational hazard of being exceptional.”

Maurice worked in systems most people didn’t know existed. Tech, security, data recovery, fraud tracing, blackmail cleanup. Legal when it suited him. Illegal when it paid better.

He made fortunes and enemies with equal talent.

“Truth is,” he added, glancing at me, “Simone called.”

Of course she did.

“She asked you to babysit me?”

“Your grown ass is too old to babysit,” he said. “I came to see if you’re okay.”

I laughed once. Dryly. “Why does everyone keep asking that?”

“Maybe because you look like death in a Tom Ford shirt.”

I said nothing.

“What did she tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you’re not eating, not sleeping, and she thinks you’re using again.”

“I’m not.”

He gave me a sideways look. “Then good. Problem solved.”

He didn’t believe me. I could tell. But Maurice knew when silence was smarter than questions.

For a few moments, only the sound of the road filled the car.

Then he said, “So… you’re engaged now.”

“Yes.”

“Still stupid.”

“It wasn’t a discussion.”

“It never is with you.” He tapped the wheel. “I told you not to tie yourself to people you hate.”

“I don’t hate Vanessa.”

“No,” he said lightly. “You just look miserable every time someone says her name.”

My jaw flexed.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

AMY: She just arrived.

The ache in my head eased instantly.

A slow smile spread across my face before I could stop it.

Maurice noticed. Of course he did.

“Well, look at that,” he murmured. “The corpse lives.”

“Mind your business.”

“Is it your fiancée?”

I turned my head and looked at him. Really looked at him.

He raised both hands off the wheel briefly in surrender. “Right. Not the fiancée.”

I looked back at the message.

Rhea.

Just the thought of her sharpened everything. Her voice. Her mouth. The way she’d looked at me and tried not to.

I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head for days. Every sound she made that night lived somewhere under my skin.

It was becoming a problem.

Or maybe a solution.

I typed back.

ME: Tell her to wait in my office.