Chapter 21: The Idea of Concern

Sierra didn’t answer. She just headed upstairs.

“Stop right there.”

Bradley’s patience was wearing thin. He had been more than accommodating, yet Sierra remained as distant as ever. Thinking back to what had happened that morning and Jonathan’s words, he forced himself to stay calm, adjusting his tone to sound almost gentle.

“I’m your brother, Sierra. I care about you. Don’t treat me like the enemy.”

From the floor-to-ceiling window, he had seen the black Maybach parked outside. He had watched as Sierra stepped out of the car. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see who was inside. It made him uneasy. Sierra barely had any friends, and she had just gotten out of prison. Who could she possibly know that drove a car like that? Was someone trying to get information through her?

His voice lowered. “I gave you money, didn’t I? You know what you should and shouldn’t say.”

A warning.

Sierra let out a sharp laugh. “Relax, Mr. Xander. I took your hush money—I won’t talk.”

So this was his idea of concern. What a joke.

Bradley frowned, clearly uncomfortable with her response. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No matter what, we’re family. We should handle our own matters privately.”

“And Jonathan… he’s not exactly an outsider, but you shouldn’t rely on him too much. Don’t you think?”

Sierra’s expression shifted slightly. Did he think Jonathan was the one who had driven her home? What was he worried about? That Jonathan would find out about the cover-up? Or that an outsider would see that the great Mr. Xander wasn’t as perfect as he pretended to be?

Bradley wasn’t actually thinking that far. He didn’t know how Sierra and Jonathan had met, but he wanted to cut off any possibility before it grew into something troublesome—especially since Jonathan was someone Denny liked. He was smart enough not to mention that part. He figured Sierra wouldn’t want to hear it.

Sierra had no idea what was going through Bradley’s mind, nor did she care. Her head was throbbing from overworking herself, and she had no energy to waste on him. Without another word, she went to her room.

The next morning, Sierra came downstairs for breakfast and found Denise already there. She looked pale and weak, clearly still recovering from her recent episode. Sierra barely spared her a glance before looking away.

Denise’s body was truly something else. No matter how many times she teetered on the brink of death, she always pulled through in the end. And somehow, the Xander family never failed to fall for it every time.

Seeing Sierra, Denise hesitated, lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she stayed quiet, as if afraid of upsetting her.

Evan, on the other hand, had no such reservations. “Denny was worried you’d struggle after switching majors so suddenly, so she personally asked some of the top sophomores to lend you their books.”

As he spoke, the entire Xander family turned to look at Sierra expectantly. Sierra had just picked up her fork but suddenly lost her appetite. She set it down and laughed coldly. “So? Am I supposed to be grateful? Did I ask her to do that?”

They always did this—forcing things on her she never wanted, then expecting her to bow down in gratitude. And always with that condescending air of generosity, as if she should be kneeling at their feet, thanking them for their kindness. What kind of twisted logic was that?

“You—”

Evan was caught off guard, momentarily at a loss for words.

Denise quickly interjected, “Evan, don’t. I did it because I wanted to help her. I just want my sister to do well—that’s all.”

Evan softened, reaching out to ruffle Denise’s hair. “You’re always so sweet, Denny.”

Sierra’s appetite vanished completely. Just as she was about to get up, Eleanor reached over and tugged her sleeve.

“Sierra, you haven’t eaten yet,” she said gently. “I know you like noodles, so I asked the kitchen to make you some. They’ll be ready soon. Just wait a little.”

Her eyes were filled with concern. Sierra studied her for a moment before carefully pulling her hand away. Her voice was indifferent.

“Mrs. Xander, I don’t like noodles. Denise does. I only ate them because I had no choice. In fact, I hate them.”

When she had first been brought back to the Xander family, Denise’s health was unstable due to emotional distress. The doctor had said she could only eat easily digestible foods. She hated porridge, so noodles were the only option. For a long time, breakfast at the Xander house had consisted solely of noodles. Everyone had eaten them to accompany Denise. No one had ever bothered to ask if Sierra liked them. She had only finished her portions because she disliked wasting food.