Chapter 3: Sibling Rivalry and Unspoken Rules

Nine days after the wedding, Owen took me back to my family home. I was nervous—he was about to meet Marissa.

The drive felt endless, the kind where you watch the miles tick by and try not to think about what’s waiting at the end. I fiddled with the hem of my dress, rehearsing possible conversations in my head.

I didn’t know if this unlucky supporting character could break the script, so I’d thought through every possible outcome over the past few days.

Plan A, Plan B, even Plan Z—I’d mapped out every contingency, just in case. I was a nervous wreck, but I was determined not to let it show.

In the original, when he first met Marissa, he didn’t know she and Carter already had feelings for each other. By the time he figured it out, he was already in too deep.

It was the kind of plot twist that made you want to scream at the characters, "Just talk to each other!" But I knew better than to expect easy answers.

So, I needed to warn him in advance that Marissa already liked someone else—his brother Carter. As the saying goes, you don’t go after your brother’s girl. The ambitious senator definitely wouldn’t want to compete with his brother for a woman.

I rehearsed my speech in my head, hoping I could get the message across without sounding desperate or jealous. The last thing I needed was to come off as insecure.

That was Plan A. If it worked, Owen could avoid the love triangle, and I could coast as the senator’s wife. Even if he didn’t love me, at least I’d be safe and comfortable.

Plan B was less appealing: keep my head down, save what I could, and plan a quiet exit if things went south. But for now, I was holding out hope for Plan A.

If Owen still fell for Marissa anyway, I’d have to go with Plan B: keep a low profile, squirrel away some cash, and plan my escape.

I pictured myself stashing twenties in a coffee can, just in case. The idea was both terrifying and oddly empowering.

That would be a lot harder, but as long as I didn’t make waves, I’d have time to prepare.

I resolved to keep my eyes open and my mouth shut—at least until I had a better read on the situation.

Lost in thought, I realized we’d already pulled up to my parents’ house, and my dad was waiting at the door with the family.

The house looked just as I remembered from Harper’s memories—white picket fence, neatly trimmed lawn, and a front porch that had seen its share of family barbecues. My dad’s smile was warm, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

Even though I had Harper’s memories, I’d never really interacted with her parents, so I did my best to act loving. With Owen there, dinner was polite but awkward.

I tried to laugh at my dad’s jokes, nod at my mom’s stories, and pretend I wasn’t watching Owen for every tiny reaction. The food was delicious. I barely tasted a thing.

I barely touched my food, too distracted, and spent the whole time watching Owen for any sign of interest in Marissa.

Every glance, every smile, every word felt loaded. I was hyper-aware of the tension, like a string pulled too tight.

So far, so good—no signs of him falling for her yet.

I let out a silent sigh of relief, but kept my guard up. The night was still young, and anything could happen.

Still nervous, I tried to probe Owen on the way home. “So, what did you think of my sister?”

My heart was pounding. I tried to sound casual, not desperate.

Owen was leaning back, eyes closed, but answered without opening them. “She’s a beautiful girl. Poised and graceful.”

His words were measured, polite, the kind you’d expect from a seasoned politician. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface.

My heart skipped a beat. Not good. This guy never compliments anyone, and he just called Marissa ‘poised and graceful’—maybe he’s already interested.

I bit my lip, trying not to panic. One compliment didn’t mean anything. Not yet.

I panicked a little and tried to reason with him: “I’m the mayor’s only daughter. Marrying me already checks your political box. No need to chase my sister, too. Besides, as far as I know, she and Carter are together. You should keep your eyes on the big picture.”

I tried to keep my tone light, but the words came out rushed. I hoped he’d take the hint without getting offended.

He opened his eyes and frowned, but seemed hung up on my phrasing. “Political goal?”

His voice was sharp, and I realized I might have overstepped. I scrambled to recover.

I realized that might sound too blunt, so I tried again: “Yeah, I know you married me for my dad’s support. Isn’t that your main objective?”

I tried to sound matter-of-fact, but I could feel my cheeks heating up. This was not how I’d planned the conversation.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he said, “You’re right. I have no intention of marrying your sister.”

His tone was final, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the story might still find a way to pull us all back into the drama.

I was only half-convinced, worried that the plot would still drag him into the love triangle. I decided to stick with Plan A for now.

I mentally rehearsed my next move, determined to stay one step ahead of the script.

Suddenly, he sat up and leaned toward me. “Why do you think I’d fall for your sister?”

His eyes were sharp, searching my face for answers. I hesitated, trying to find the right words.

Good question. Why? Because I read the script!

I almost laughed, but caught myself just in time. Instead, I went with the safest answer I could think of.

Thinking fast, I said, “Maybe… because I care too much about you. My sister’s always been the favorite, so I get a little insecure… I hope you don’t mind.”

I let my voice waver, just enough to sound believable. I even blinked a few times, hoping to sell the act.

Then I pretended to get choked up.

I pressed a hand to my chest, looking out the window as if holding back tears. The car was silent. Only the hum of the tires on the road.

I kept it up for a while, but Owen just looked at me with a half-smile, clearly not buying it.

His eyes were amused, and I could tell he saw right through me. For a second, I almost admired his ability to read people.

I was about to add more, but he said, “Instead of worrying about me liking someone else, why not work harder to make me like you?”

His words were teasing, but there was a challenge in his tone. I felt a spark of defiance rise in me.

I got it instantly. The senator just wants me to try harder, but he’s not going to give anything back. Nice try, buddy. I’m not falling for that. Besides, in this story, the harder I try, the worse things get for me.

I crossed my arms, determined not to play his game. If he wanted effort, he’d have to earn it.

Seeing through him, I felt more confident and shot back: “That’s not something you can force. Feelings aren’t a competition.”

I let my words hang in the air, refusing to back down. For once, I felt like I had the upper hand.

“That’s funny. You say you like me, but you’re not willing to try? Why are you so contradictory?”

He sounded almost amused, but I could sense a hint of frustration. I shrugged, refusing to be drawn in. Not this time.

He looked smug, but I’m good at talking my way out of things. “It’s not that. People always say men are easy to read and women aren’t. I know I’m not the best you could do, and the more I want, the more disappointed I’ll be. So I’m just happy to be here. I won’t ask for more.”

I delivered the line with a small smile, hoping it sounded genuine. Inside, I was just relieved to have survived another round of verbal sparring.

“Alright, you’re pretty chill about it.” Owen leaned back and closed his eyes again.

His tone was almost admiring, and I felt a small surge of pride. Maybe I was finally learning how to play this game.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief, but then he added, “If you don’t try, how will you know you’ll be disappointed?”

His words lingered in the air, but I chose not to respond. Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.