He Left Me For My Sister Now He Begs For Me Back Chapter 11
The first time Gavin came to the Crawford residence for a family meal, my sister joined us.
My mother had told her to rest, but she insisted it was an important day for me and she couldn’t be absent.
I couldn’t be bothered to call her out.
She had always been like that, cloaking her own desires in selfless excuses.
At lunch, the staff served a fresh almond pudding.
My sister coughed softly twice.
Gavin was deep in conversation with my father about the approval process for Westmoor’s border medical fund and didn’t even glance her way.
She coughed again, more pointedly, and my mother immediately asked with concern, “Is the room too stuffy?”
My sister shook her head.
“I’m fine.”
Gavin still didn’t react.
Finally, she addressed him directly.
“Gavin.”
He looked up.
In a gentle voice, my sister said, “I heard you were also involved in the Pinewater Pack flood relief two years ago?”
“I was.”
“What a coincidence,” she said with a small smile. “Father was very ill that year, and our whole family was worried. I helped him sort through some of the relief accounts, too.”
My hand, resting on my water glass, stilled.
My sister continued, “Later, when I heard someone had discovered a supplier inflating the victim counts, I was so thrilled.”
My mother beamed.
“Our Victoria is so clever. Even when she was unwell herself, she was still so concerned with her father’s work.”
I slowly lifted my head and met Gavin’s gaze.
He looked at me for only a second before turning back to my sister.
“Which database did you reconcile?”
She hesitated.
“It’s been so long. I don’t remember.”
Gavin nodded.
“That’s a shame.”
She seemed to relax.
But then he continued. “I remember that data was double-checked. In the lower-right corner of every suspicious entry, there was a small purple triangle. Since you worked on it, you must know what that signified.”
The smile on my sister’s face froze.
Of course she didn’t know.
That had been my private system.
When I first started learning accounting at twelve, I would draw a tiny sprig of lavender next to any number that seemed off. My father thought the design was unprofessional, so I later changed it to a triangle, and eventually just a dot.
Gavin said evenly, “Then perhaps my memory is mistaken. It must have been the other Miss Crawford who sorted those accounts.”
The dining room fell silent.
My sister slowly turned to look at me.
I said nothing.
Gavin had already returned to discussing wedding dates with my father. From beginning to end, he never looked at her again.
After the meeting, as he was leaving, he handed me a paper bag.
“There’s a new roasted chestnut shop on West Street.”
I blinked.
“For me?”
“Who else?”
Out of habit, I glanced toward my sister.
She was standing not far away, watching us.
Gavin followed my gaze, then looked back at me.
“Why are you looking at her?”
I froze.
He said, “They’re for you. Eat them if you want, throw them away if you don’t. It has nothing to do with anyone else.”
I lowered my head.
The bag was still warm in my hand, and little by little, the warmth seeped into my palm.