Chapter 4 - Amber’s Perfect Life Begins to Crack
I met Alexander Mercer because I told him his company’s campaign was boring.
That was not how Natalie described it.
She called it “challenging the client’s assumptions.”
Alexander called it telling him his fifty-thousand-dollar presentation looked like a bank brochure.
Both versions were technically accurate.
Nine months before Bellamy’s, Mercer Urban Development hired Boyd Creative to build a campaign around a mixed-use community project in downtown Phoenix.
Alexander attended the initial strategy meeting personally.
I didn’t know he would.
When he entered the conference room, two executives from my agency visibly sat straighter.
Natalie whispered, “Don’t panic.”
Naturally, I immediately panicked.
Then Alexander presented the concept his internal team wanted.
Polished.
Expensive.
Completely forgettable.
When he asked for reactions, nobody spoke.
So I did.
“It’s safe.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“Is that bad?”
“If you want people to remember it.”
An executive beside him looked horrified.
Alexander looked interested.
“What would you do?”
I showed him.
That conversation became dinner.
Dinner became coffee.
Coffee became long walks when neither of us wanted reporters or colleagues around.
And eventually, I learned the private man beneath the public biography.
Alexander’s father had built the original Mercer construction business.
Alexander expanded it dramatically after his father died.
He had money before I met him.
More money than I could truly comprehend.
But he also had a mother who called three times a week, a weakness for terrible roadside tacos and an embarrassing inability to assemble furniture without instructions.
With him, I wasn’t Jessica Who Needed Less.
I wasn’t Amber’s sister.
I wasn’t the hardworking employee everyone trusted because I never complained.
I was simply Jessica.
That frightened me at first.
Being loved without needing to earn it felt suspicious.
Sunday evening, Alexander and I drove toward my parents’ house.
My earrings caught the last orange sunlight coming through the windshield.
He noticed.
“You keep touching them.”
“I know.”
“Nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“Want to turn around?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
I looked at him.
“You’re actually turning around?”
“If you want.”
“No.”
“Then why did you say yes?”
“Because I like knowing I could.”
He smiled.
“That sounds healthier.”
My parents lived in the same three-bedroom ranch house where Amber and I grew up.
The exterior had been repainted.
The old mesquite tree still leaned over the driveway.
Amber’s white SUV was already parked outside.
So was Trevor’s Mercedes.
When Alexander pulled his understated black sedan beside them, I suddenly felt seventeen again.
Then he reached for my hand.
“Jessica.”
I looked at him.
“You don’t live here anymore.”
Such a simple sentence.
I carried it inside.
Mom opened the door.
She wore a blouse I usually only saw at Christmas.
Dad had put on a collared shirt.
They had dressed up.
For Alexander.
That hurt more than I expected.
“Come in,” Mom said quickly.
Her eyes dropped toward our joined hands.
“Alexander, it’s nice to officially meet you.”
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“Please. Diane.”
Dad appeared.
“Alexander.”
They shook hands.
Amber stood near the dining room.
Her eyes looked swollen, but her posture remained defensive.
Trevor was beside her.
He smiled too broadly.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Alexander nodded.
“Trevor.”
The fact that Alexander knew his name seemed to thrill him.
Dinner began awkwardly.
Mom had cooked pot roast.
My favorite.
Or it had been before Amber decided at thirteen that she hated it, after which Mom almost never made it.
For several minutes, conversation stayed painfully polite.
Dad asked Alexander about traffic growth in Phoenix.
Mom asked where we lived.
Amber said almost nothing.
Then Trevor started.
“I have to say, Alexander, your downtown redevelopment strategy is remarkable.”
I put down my fork.
Alexander remained calm.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve been following Mercer Development for years.”
“I understand.”
Trevor smiled.
“I’m actually working on a proposal involving your East Valley portfolio.”
Amber looked proud.
Mom looked hopeful.
Alexander took a sip of water.
“Not anymore.”
The fork in Trevor’s hand stopped.
“I’m sorry?”
“The proposal is under compliance review.”
Mom looked at me.
Amber sat straighter.
Trevor laughed nervously.
“Compliance?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding.”
“Possibly.”
Alexander was extraordinarily good at making one word sound like a deposition.
Trevor glanced toward me.
“Jessica, did you—”
“No.”
Alexander answered before I could.
“Jessica had nothing to do with it.”
“Then why now?”
“Because your submission contains several representations regarding your relationship with my company that appear inaccurate.”
Trevor went pale.
Amber looked at him.
“What representations?”
“Nothing important.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s important enough that your employer included them in a commercial proposal.”
Mom spoke.
“Maybe we should discuss something else.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
My mother blinked.
“Jessica.”
“I want to hear this.”
Trevor pushed his chair back slightly.
“Your husband is making a business disagreement personal.”
“My husband didn’t slap anyone.”
Amber’s face tightened.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You enjoying this.”
I stared at her.
“You think I’m enjoying finding out your fiancé used my name in a business proposal?”
“He didn’t use your name.”
Alexander reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He placed a printed page on the table.
Trevor’s face collapsed.
Amber grabbed it.
I watched her read.
“My future sister-in-law has direct access to Alexander Mercer.”
Her lips moved silently across the sentence.
Then she looked at Trevor.
“What is this?”
He swallowed.
“Marketing language.”
“Jessica wasn’t your future sister-in-law then.”
“I assumed—”
“You assumed what?”
Trevor glanced toward Mom.
That was all I needed to see.
I turned slowly.
“Mom.”
Her face changed.
“Jessica…”
“How did Trevor know?”
Dad frowned.
“Diane?”
Mom’s hands began twisting her napkin.
Amber looked between them.
“Mom?”
My chest tightened.
“You knew.”
She shook her head too quickly.
“No.”
“You knew I was seeing Alexander.”
“I suspected.”
“When?”
No answer.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
Amber’s chair scraped backward.
“You knew?”
Mom looked miserable.
“I saw you together when I visited your office.”
“You saw a photograph.”
“I asked Natalie.”
My stomach dropped.
“You asked my boss about my private life?”
“She didn’t tell me anything.”
“Then how did you know?”
“I followed you.”
I stared at her.
Even Alexander looked surprised.
“You what?”
“Only once.”
“When?”
“After work. You left with Alexander.”
My voice barely came.
“You followed me?”
“I was concerned.”
“About what?”
“You were being secretive.”
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“I was twenty-six years old.”
Mom’s eyes filled.
“I’m your mother.”
“And apparently my investigator.”
Amber slammed the paper onto the table.
“You knew Jessica was dating Alexander Mercer and never told me?”
Mom turned toward her.
“It wasn’t my information to share.”
“Then how did Trevor know?”
Nobody spoke.
Amber looked at Trevor.
His face gave him away.
Her voice changed.
“Trevor?”
He leaned forward.
“Amber, listen.”
“You told him.”
She looked at Mom.
“You told Trevor.”
Mom whispered, “He asked about Mercer because of his work.”
“And you told him Jessica was dating Alexander?”
“I said they seemed close.”
I stood.
Dad’s face had gone white.
“You told my sister’s boyfriend about my relationship before you ever asked me about it?”
Mom began crying.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“You made a choice.”
Amber stood too.
“So you knew she had this whole secret life?”
I turned toward her.
“This isn’t about you.”
“It is when my own mother kept something this huge from me!”
I almost couldn’t believe it.
“Amber, you slapped me because I bought earrings.”
“You were acting superior!”
“I was standing still!”
Dad slammed his hand against the table.
“Enough!”
Everyone froze.
My father rarely raised his voice.
He looked at Amber first.
“You hit your sister.”
Amber crossed her arms.
“She provoked me.”
“No.”
Dad’s voice shook.
“You hit her.”
Then he turned toward Mom.
“And you followed our adult daughter and shared information about her private relationship with Trevor.”
Mom looked devastated.
Dad looked at Trevor.
“And you used it for business.”
Trevor stood.
“That is an unfair characterization.”
Alexander finally spoke.
“It’s an accurate one.”
Trevor’s expression hardened.
“You think you can ruin my career because your wife got into a catfight?”
Alexander pushed back his chair.
“No.”
His voice remained quiet.
“Your career is under review because you misrepresented professional access to secure financial advantage.”
Trevor swallowed.
“The slap has nothing to do with it.”
Amber looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.
“You told me Jessica was pathetic.”
Trevor’s face changed.
I stared.
“What?”
Amber laughed bitterly.
“You told me she was pretending to be important because she worked on Mercer campaigns.”
“Amber—”
“You knew she was dating him.”
“She wasn’t married then.”
“So?”
Trevor’s carefully polished mask cracked.
“So I needed you calm!”
The room went silent.
Amber blinked.
“What does that mean?”
Trevor realized his mistake.
Too late.
He grabbed his jacket.
“We should go.”
Amber didn’t move.
“What does that mean?”
“Not here.”
“No. Here.”
He lowered his voice.
“Your obsession with Jessica makes you impossible sometimes.”
Her face emptied.
I felt no satisfaction.
Only sadness.
Because I recognized that look.
It was the moment someone realizes the person beside them has been feeding the worst parts of them because those parts were useful.
Trevor continued.
“I knew if you found out she was seeing Mercer, you’d lose your mind.”
“So you lied to me?”
“I managed the situation.”
Alexander glanced at me.
I knew what he was thinking.
Managed.
Like Amber was an asset.
Or a problem.
Never a partner.
Amber removed her engagement ring.
Trevor stared.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
That phrase.
The phrase people use when they need someone else’s pain to become inconvenient.
Amber placed the ring on the table.
“I think you should leave.”
“Amber.”
“Leave.”
Trevor looked toward Mom and Dad as though expecting support.
None came.
Then his eyes found me.
“This is because of you.”
For twenty years, I might have believed him.
Not anymore.
“No,” I said. “This is because of you.”
He walked out.
The front door slammed.
Amber remained standing.
Then her shoulders folded.
She sat.
For the first time in my life, my sister began crying without checking who was watching.
Mom moved toward her.
Amber raised one hand.
“Don’t.”
Mom stopped.
Amber looked at me.
Her mascara was smudged.
The perfect blonde daughter.
The hurricane.
The girl who had slapped me forty-eight hours earlier.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
Her answer came so quietly I almost missed it.
“Because every time I look at you, I see everything I never learned how to become.”
And suddenly, the entire room changed.
Because for the first time, Amber wasn’t attacking me.
May you like
She was telling the truth.
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