The morning had started with a deceptive sense of calm. My grandmother was resting comfortably, her breathing steadier than it had been in days, which gave me the freedom to spend a few hours in the pediatric wing. I had promised Leo a rematch on his favorite racing game, and I was not the type of Sterling to break a promise to my best friend. I walked toward Room 405, a small bag of almond croissants hidden in my tote bag. I was actually looking forward to the distraction. I was looking forward to hearing more about Leo's legendary brother, the boy who was supposed to be a hero in a world of villains.
I reached the heavy oak door of Leo's room. It was slightly ajar, the sound of muffled laughter drifting into the hallway. I paused, my hand hovering over the handle. I didn't want to interrupt a private family moment, but then I heard a voice that made the blood in my veins turn to liquid nitrogen.
"If you don't finish that protein shake, Leo, I am taking the gaming console back to the estate. I do not care if you almost beat the level. Muscle mass is not optional."
I froze. Every muscle in my body locked into place. I knew that voice. I had heard it in the halls of Eastwood, dripping with cold superiority. I had heard it in the middle of a ballroom, offering a dance out of "pity." I had heard it in the stables, mocking my heartbreak.
It was Carl Sinclair.
I stepped closer to the gap in the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. Through the narrow opening, I saw the scene I never could have imagined. Carl was sitting on a plastic hospital stool, leaning over Leo's bed. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the lean, corded muscle of his forearms. He wasn't looking at a textbook or a stock ticker. He was patiently holding a straw to Leo's lips, his expression devoid of the icy arrogance he wore like a shroud at school.
"You are such a bully, Carl," Leo grumbled after a long swallow. "Sadie wouldn't make me drink this. She brings me real snacks. She is way cooler than you."
"Sadie?" Carl's voice sharpened, a flicker of something, was it recognition or suspicion?, crossing his face. "Who is Sadie, Leo? I told you not to talk to strangers in the sunroom. People in this city see a Sinclair name on a chart and they start looking for a payout."
"She isn't a stranger! She is my best friend," Leo insisted, crossing his arms. "She is a Sterling. And she is a genius. She found the frame perfect move for the level four boss in five minutes. She's the girl I told you about. The one who is way smarter than all those boring people at your school."
I couldn't stay in the hallway anymore. The shock had passed, replaced by a white hot surge of indignation. I pushed the door open, the heavy wood hitting the stopper with a dull thud.
"I believe the term you used at the gala was 'pathetic,' Sinclair," I said, my voice echoing off the sterile walls. "Not 'genius.'"
Carl spun around so fast the stool nearly toppled. His eyes widened, the pupils blowing wide in a rare display of genuine, unpolished shock. For a second, the Sinclair mask was completely gone. He looked at me, then at Leo, then back to me, his brain clearly struggling to bridge the gap between his Eastwood rival and his brother's hospital friend.
"Sterling?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.
"Sadie!" Leo yelled, his face lighting up with pure joy. "You're here! This is him! This is my brother Carl! See? I told you he was a legend!"
I walked into the room, my heels clicking a sharp, unforgiving rhythm. I didn't look at Leo. I kept my eyes locked on Carl, who had finally managed to pull his composure back together, though his face was still paler than usual.
"A legend?" I repeated, my tone dripping with irony. "Leo, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your brother isn't a hero. At school, he is a jerk, a pain in the ass, and a shark who spends his time insulting people to make himself feel important."
Leo's jaw dropped. He looked between us, his dark eyes darting back and forth like he was watching a championship tennis match. "Wait. You guys know each other? You go to the same school?"
"We do," Carl said, his voice regaining its low, velvety friction. He stood up, towering over me in the small room. The "soft" brother I had seen moments ago was being buried under the weight of his Sinclair armor. "Though 'knowing each other' is a generous term. We mostly spend our time trying to destroy each other's grade point averages. I had no idea my brother was spending his afternoons with a Sterling"
"He called me a pity case, Leo," I added, crossing my arms over my chest. "After he spent an entire night acting like he was a decent human being, he went straight to his father and told him I was a charity project. So forgive me if I am not impressed by the comics and the kale chips."
Carl flinched. It was a tiny movement, just a tightening of the corners of his eyes, but I saw it. He looked like he wanted to say something, to defend himself, but Leo beat him to it.
Leo was watching us with a wide, scheming grin. He looked at Carl, then back at me. "A pity case?, Wait a minute. You guys go to school together, you're both geniuses, and you both have that scary 'I am going to rule the world' look in your eyes. Carl, why didn't you tell me your school rival was a girl who actually knows how to beat level four? I totally ship this. You guys are like a power couple."
"Leo, be quiet," Carl muttered, his voice sounding strangled.
"I won't! You always said people at Eastwood were boring and fake, but Sadie is the coolest person I know," Leo turned to me, his eyes bright with the thrill of a matchmaker. "Sadie, you should see the way he looks at his phone when he thinks I am sleeping. He is always checking the academy rankings. I think he is just obsessed with beating you."
"He is obsessed with maintaining a legacy, Leo," I said, though my gaze was fixed on Carl. "Some people don't know how to exist without a hierarchy to climb."
I spent the next hour in that room, the tension so thick it felt like a physical weight. I watched Carl interact with Leo, saw the way he let the boy win at games and how he knew exactly when Leo was getting tired before the nurses even noticed. He was a different person here. The jerk from the library was gone, replaced by a boy who was carrying the weight of his brother's health on one shoulder and his father's expectations on the other.
Leo spent the entire time trying to nudge us together, making comments about how Carl should help me with my bags or how we should go to the cafeteria together. Carl took it all with a surprising amount of patience, though he kept shooting warning looks at Leo whenever the boy got too close to being sentimental.
As the sun began to set, Carl stood up. "Leo needs to rest, Sadie. I will walk you out."
It was not a request. I followed him into the hallway, the heavy door clicking shut behind us. The silence of the corridor was a sharp contrast to Leo's cheerful energy. Carl stopped under a flickering fluorescent light, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He did not look at me. He looked at the far end of the hallway, his jaw set.
"I didn't call you a pity case because I believed it," he said, his voice so low I had to lean in to hear him.
I stopped, my heart skipping a beat. "Then why say it at all, Carl? Why save me from Richard only to humiliate me in front of your father?"
"Because my father doesn't do 'friendships' with rivals, Sadie," Carl said, finally turning to face me. The mask was not gone, but it was cracked. "He does acquisitions. He sees people as assets or liabilities. If he thought I had even a shred of genuine interest in a Sterling, he would have spent the next morning finding ways to dismantle your family's holdings. I said what I had to say to keep him looking the other way. I had to make him believe I was just playing a game of social dominance."
"So you insulted me to protect your own standing?" I asked, though the anger was being replaced by a cold, logical understanding.
"No," Carl stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "I did it so he wouldn't look at you. If I am the shark who pitied you, you are beneath his notice. If I am the boy who admires you, you are a target. In the Sinclair world, the only way to keep something safe is to make the world believe you don't want it."
He did not confess his feelings. He did not say he liked me. But the implication hung in the air like a heavy mist. He was telling me that his jerk persona was a shield, not just for him, but for me.
"You are a very good liar, Sinclair," I whispered.
"I am a Sinclair, Sterling. We are born with lies in our mouths," he replied, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "But in that room with Leo, I don't have to be a liar. And apparently, neither do you."
I did not know what to say. I had spent so long building a wall of hatred against him. But looking at him now, standing in the hospital corridor with the weight of his secrets laid bare, the wall was starting to crumble.
"You really are a pain in the ass," I said, the words lacking any real venom.
"And you are still a Sterling," he replied. "I suppose we are both stuck with our masks for a little while longer."
I turned to leave, my mind reeling with this new information. Carl was not my savior, but he was not my enemy either. He was a prisoner of his name, just like I was.
I returned to my grandmother's room, my chest tight. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell my best friend that I had found someone else who understood the ice. But when I walked in, the room was silent.
The monitor wasn't beeping. It was a single, long, high pitched drone.
"Grandma?" I whispered.
The nurse was already there, her face a mask of professional tragedy. She looked at me, and I knew. The final chapter had ended. My best friend was gone.
The tote bag fell from my hand, the silver photo frame clattering against the floor. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just felt the ice within me shatter into a thousand jagged pieces. I sank to the floor, my hands reaching for the bedsheets, trying to find her hand one last time.
I was alone. The Sterling name meant nothing. The rank one title meant nothing. I was just a girl in a cold room, drowning in a grief that no mask could hide.
I don't know how long I sat there. The nurses tried to move me, but I was a statue. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I was waiting for the world to end.