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Chapter 4
Chapter 4
At dawn, the studio car arrived to take me to set.
Alexander walked me to it, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Take care of yourself, darling. Don’t work
too hard.”
“We’re filming the explosion scene today,” I mentioned casually.
He paused. “Wasn’t that scheduled for next week?”
“Schedule changed. We’re moving locations soon, so it’s more efficient this way.”
He hugged me, completely missing my test. “Just make sure all safety measures are in place.”
My heart sank. Before, whenever I had dangerous stunts–explosions, car crashes, wire work–Alexander would clear his schedule to supervise personally, meticulously checking every safety protocol.
But now… With news of Claire’s impending divorce, he couldn’t even be bothered to maintain his façade
of devotion.
During a filming break, I spotted Alexander’s distinctive black car at the neighboring set. Claire was filming there.
An impulse to see him one last time drew me toward his car, but I found only his driver and assistant.
They scrambled out nervously. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair is in the restroom…”
Their eyes kept darting toward Claire’s trailer.
Understanding dawned. I approached and knocked.
Alexander opened the door. Behind him, Claire sat on the couch, her hair disheveled, buttons misaligned.
He recovered quickly from his surprise. “Evelyn, I was coming to see you and ran into Claire. Just discussing some business matters.”
“Really? What business matters with my sister that I don’t know about?”
“Just boring work details. Nothing you’d find interesting,” he dismissed me gently.
His assistant interrupted with a phone. “Sir, international call from the partners.”
Alexander stroked my hair. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
06:36
Seven Years of Love, Seven Minutes of Truth
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Chapter 4
As he left, Claire uncrossed her legs and approached with a triumphant smile.
“Curious what we discussed, little sister? Well, his company is about to announce me as their global brand ambassador.”
“Soon everyone will know that Mrs. Sinclair’s husband chose her rival as his spokesperson…”
She deliberately brushed back her hair, revealing fresh marks on her neck
Our relationship had always been complicated. As half–sisters, Claire was raised separately until my mother’s death. Despite my attempts at sisterhood, she harbored deep resentment.
“I hate you, Evelyn. You and your mother stole my father, stole everything that should have been mine!”
“Claire, my mother didn’t know about your mother’s pregnancy when she married Dad. She was a victim
too!”
“Shut up! If not for her, Dad would have married my mother!”
