“What are you doing? I have class!” I groaned.

A sleek black Bentley, its expensive license plate unmistakable, was parked at the university gate. I knew instantly it belonged to Alex.

Without a word, he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the car. He turned, his eyes filled with contusion. “When you were skipping class to earn money for that Blake family member, you didn’t seem to care about your education. Why does it suddenly matter now?”

I was furious at his bluntness.

“Get in the car,” he ordered, opening the passenger door and shoving me inside. I was even angrier now.

Alex slid into the driver’s seat, his brow furrowing slightly at my dark expression. “Are you upset because I interrupted that jerk’s…?”

I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Why did you have to reveal my identity in front of everyone?” I asked, meeting his gaze.

His expression darkened. “Is being the Hastings family heiress worse than being harassed by some jerk?”

I looked away, painful memories flooding back.

“I’m just being realistic,” I muttered, staring at my hands. “The Hastings family doesn’t want anything to do with me, and honestly, neither do I.” It was the truth. I remembered Alex’s reaction when my mother married into the family and the subsequent cold treatment.

The car fell silent.

After a long pause, Alex said coldly, “If someone like Julian can make you feel this miserable, and you can’t stand up for yourself, then I’ll permit you to rely on your status as the Hastings heiress.”

I glared at him, his arrogance fueling my frustration. “I don’t need the Hastings family’s help, and I certainly don’t need them meddling in my life.”

Alex sneered. “That necklace that jerk gave you is a generic trinket from a high-end brand. Only someone like him would use it as an apology.”

My anger boiled over. I reached for the door handle, but Alex locked the doors and started the engine.

Alarmed, I fought the urge to punch him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Your mom’s sick,” Alex said, gripping the steering wheel as he turned. “I came to pick you up.”

“What did you say?” My heart raced. “What’s wrong with her?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself,” he replied. “It’s best you go back and check on her.”

A mix of emotions washed over me as I thought of my mother. When I was younger, she was kind and gentle, caring for both Alex and me. Her pastries were delicious. But everything changed after the incident. I blamed her, though I knew nothing could undo it. Confusion turned to numbness. Over time, I felt like an outsider in my own home, and since starting university, I hadn’t been back. But I wasn’t heartless; I hadn’t completely cut ties with her.

“Is she really that sick?” I asked, staring out the window, a heavy weight settling in my chest. “I don’t want to go to the Hastings residence.”