CHAPTER THREE
Dad sat at the head of the table, a glass of red wine in his hand and that victorious smile that always meant one thing… he'd won.
"I'm very proud of you, my daughter," he said, his voice loud and clear enough for everyone to hear. "Thank you for closing the Winnicks deal."
If there was anything my father loved more than life itself, it was winning, especially when it meant crushing the Smiths.
"Thank you, Dad," I said, raising my glass slightly.
"It was a big deal at first, but you know me. I'm a girl of no mean feat." I let a playful smirk slip through, earning a proud nod from him.
"Sis, I'm proud of you," my younger brother, Liam, said, his eyes glowing with admiration. I reached over and ruffled his hair.
"Thanks, buddy," I said softly.
But when I turned toward Daisy, my twin, she wasn't smiling. She was wearing that calm, unreadable expression she always had when she was trying to hide how she felt.
"It's not a big deal, Dahlia," she said smoothly, swirling her drink. "If you're expecting a compliment from me, I'll hush."
I leaned closer with a teasing grin. "I know, I know. You don't want me winning against your Adrian crush of a guy."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could speak, Dad's voice boomed across the table.
"Enough!" he thundered. The laughter and chatter around us died instantly. "The name of a Smith shouldn't be mentioned in this house, except in scorn. Do I make myself clear?"
The tension was heavy, choking almost.
"I don't want to be part of a generational feud," Daisy said quietly but firmly. "Just let me be, okay? Sorry if I don't share your success story."
Then she stood and stormed out, her chair screeching against the marble floor.
Dad sighed and rubbed his temples. "That girl," he muttered.
"She's an actress, Dad," I said softly. "She feels things differently."
He ignored my attempt to defend her. "Don't worry about your sister," he said after a pause. "Your mother still has a strong influence over her. Just keep obeying me. I have the best plans for you."
I forced a small smile. "Alright."
But as I looked at his proud face, something inside me twisted. I should've felt happy. I'd earned his praise, his approval, something I'd worked years for. Yet it didn't feel right. It felt heavy. Cold.
After dinner, I slipped away and walked down the hallway toward Daisy's room. The lights were dim, the sound of the ocean waves from outside echoing faintly through the open windows. I stopped at her door and knocked softly.
"Come in," she said, her voice flat, tired.
I opened the door to find her sitting cross-legged on her bed, her hair let down and her makeup wiped off. Her room looked like her, warm, chaotic, alive. Movie scripts were scattered across the floor, perfume bottles glinting under the lamp's glow.
"Hey," I said gently, stepping in.
She didn't look at me right away. "Here to lecture me or to gloat?"
"Neither," I said, sitting beside her. "I came to check on you."
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, her expression softening just a little.
"You know, I saw Adrian today," I said suddenly, and just like that, her head shot up.
"What? Adrian?" Her whole face lit up like fireworks. "How was he? How's he looking?"
I tried not to smile. "Handsome."
She giggled, the way she always did when his name came up. "You know him," I teased.
"Of course I do," she said quickly. "So? What happened?"
"He helped me with my car," I said, pretending to sound casual.
Her jaw dropped. "Really? That was so sweet of him!"
I scoffed. "Yeah, so sweet I almost scratched his car in return."
Daisy gasped dramatically before bursting into laughter. "You didn't!"
"I did," I said, trying to hold back a grin.
She clutched her pillow, shaking her head. "God, Dahlia, you're impossible."
Her laughter softened, turning into a sigh. "I wish all this could just end," she murmured. "Dad's silly feud with the Smiths, the tension, everything. I just want to live freely. To love who I want. To be with Adrian."
I looked at her, at the fire in her eyes, and I wished it were that simple.
"You know it won't be possible," I whispered. "Dad would never let you marry him."
She smirked, a secret kind of smile. "He will. I have a plan."
I leaned closer, curious. "Tell me."
She shook her head, mischievous. "Nope. Worry about yourself and your imaginary boyfriend… what was his name again? A.D.?"
My cheeks warmed instantly. "No, don't go there."
She laughed, that light, teasing laugh that made everything feel okay again. I leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"Allow me daydream all I want," I said, smiling as I stood up.
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "You're hopeless."
"Maybe," I said softly, heading for the door. "But at least I'm happy that way."
I knew, love and loyalty couldn't coexist in our world. Not when your heart belonged to a Lincoln. And his name was Smith.