Chapter 173: The Boundary She Crossed

Chapter 173: Chapter 173: The Boundary She Crossed

Zoya handed her coat to Jackson in the foyer of his parents’ house. He hung it in the closet and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Are you hungry?" Jackson asked.

"Starving," Zoya replied, kicking off her heels and slipping into a pair of house slippers Andrea kept for her. "I spent four hours reviewing a hostile takeover clause before leaving the office. I need actual food before I start billing your parents for my time."

Jackson chuckled. "My mother made enough lasagna to feed the starting lineup of my football team. You will be fine."

Across the living room, Janice stood near the fireplace. She watched Jackson trace his thumb along Zoya’s jawline. She watched the easy, effortless intimacy between them.

She decided she was done watching.

When they moved into the dining room, Janice shifted her strategy. She bypassed the empty chair across the table and slid into the seat right next to Jackson.

Jackson did not blink. He picked up the basket of garlic bread and passed it to his father.

Janice reached out and smoothed the fabric of Jackson’s shirt collar.

"You missed a fold," Janice murmured. She let her fingers brush against his neck.

Jackson leaned away just enough to adjust it himself. "Thanks."

Zoya sat on his other side. She took a slow sip of her wine. She noticed the lingering touch. She noticed the angle of Janice’s shoulders, tilted directly toward Jackson. She did not react outwardly. She simply observed.

Andrea noticed too. The matriarch sat at the head of the table. Her eyes tracked Janice’s movements. This was no longer just a sister clinging to childhood nostalgia. It was a performance. It was flirting.

Luca asked Jackson about the upcoming sports season, steering the conversation toward safer ground.

"We are finalizing the roster," Jackson explained, cutting his food. "The new head coach wants to trade our starting defensive end for draft picks, but the board is pushing back. It has been a massive headache."

"They want immediate results," Luca guessed.

"Exactly," Jackson said. "They want to win next month. I want a franchise that survives past November. We spent three hours arguing in circles."

"You will handle it," Luca said. "You always negotiate well."

"I try," Jackson laughed. "I just remind them that my fiancée is a trial lawyer. If they don’t agree to my terms, I will send Zoya to cross-examine them."

Zoya smiled and raised her wine glass. "My hourly rate is very high, Jackson. The football club cannot afford me."

The table chuckled. Janice did not.

"Do you remember when we used to dance in the living room?" Janice asked. She rested her elbow on the table and leaned closer to him.

Jackson laughed again. "We were kids, Jace. We were just running into furniture and pretending we knew what salsa was."

"We weren’t that young," Janice corrected. Her voice dropped a register.

Jackson missed the shift in her tone. "You were terrible at it. I think you stepped on my feet every single time."

"You weren’t exactly good either," Janice said softly. Her gaze stayed fixed on his mouth for a fraction of a second too long.

Zoya placed her fork on her plate. A quiet, clinical part of her brain started taking notes.

"Janice," Andrea interrupted smoothly. "Zoya knows that part of his life now. Jackson has told her all those stories."

Janice smiled at Andrea. "I am sure she does."

The edge beneath her words was undeniable. Andrea recognized the danger immediately. Janice was not just reminiscing anymore.

After dinner, Luca poured coffee in the living room. Janice stood up from the sofa.

"Jackson, can you help me find that old photo album?" Janice asked. "The one in your old room. I want to show Zoya the pictures from your graduation."

Jackson checked his watch. "Sure. Be right back."

He followed Janice up the stairs. His old bedroom had been converted into a guest space years ago, but his old sports trophies and framed jerseys still lined the walls. He walked in and looked around the tidy space.

"Which box is it in?" Jackson asked.

Janice closed the door. The latch clicked shut.

"It isn’t in a box," Janice said.

She walked toward him. The room felt small. She stopped less than a foot away.

"It feels strange having you back in this house," Janice whispered. "Just us."

"A lot has changed," Jackson agreed. He looked at a framed photo of his high school football team sitting on the dresser.

"Sometimes I wish things could go back to how they were," Janice said.

Jackson smiled a nostalgic, easy smile. "They can’t."

Janice stepped closer. "Why not?"

Jackson finally looked down at her. He noticed the strange, burning intensity in her dark eyes. The casual, brotherly ease evaporated from his chest.

"Janice," Jackson started.

She did not back away.

"You don’t even realize how much I have missed you," Janice said.

"I have missed you too," Jackson answered honestly.

But they were speaking two different languages. He meant family. She meant something else.

Janice reached up. She pressed her palm against his cheek.

Jackson froze. His breath hitched in his throat.

Janice looked directly into his eyes and leaned forward. She tilted her chin up, aiming for his mouth.

Jackson stepped backward. He moved so fast his shoulder hit the wooden doorframe.

"Janice." His tone was sharp and unyielding.

She stopped. Her hand fell back to her side.

For the very first time, the blindfold slipped off. Jackson understood. He saw the way she was looking at him.

"What are you doing?" Jackson asked. His voice was low and tight.

Janice swallowed hard. "Nothing."

"That was not nothing," Jackson countered.

Janice looked away, staring at the floorboards. "I just wanted to know if you still felt something."

Jackson stared at her in sheer disbelief. "You are my sister."

Janice snapped her head up. "I am not asking what I am to you."

The words hung in the air. The boundary shattered into pieces.

Jackson felt a cold spike of realization. Zoya had been right. His mother had been right. Somehow, he had been the only person who had missed the signs.

"Whatever you think you feel for me," Jackson said, measuring every single word, "you need to stop."

Janice’s expression cracked. The confident facade crumbled, leaving something desperate behind. "You don’t understand."

"Then explain it."

She opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. Saying it out loud would cement the ruin.

"I waited," Janice whispered instead.

Jackson frowned. "For what?"

She shook her head. Her eyes grew wet, but she refused to let the tears fall. "Forget it."

She pushed past him, yanked the door open, and walked quickly down the hall.

Jackson remained standing in the doorway of his old bedroom. A deep, unsettling chill settled into his bones.

Ten minutes later, Jackson walked back down the stairs and into the living room.

He sat down next to Zoya on the sofa. He was unusually quiet. He did not reach for his coffee. He just stared at the blank television screen.

Zoya shifted her weight and looked at him. She read the tension radiating off his shoulders.

"You look like you just lost a negotiation," Zoya noted quietly.

"Worse," Jackson murmured.

Zoya’s eyes sharpened. She did not push him for details in front of his parents. She gave a small nod and leaned back against the cushions. She knew something had just ruptured upstairs.

Across the room, Janice sat in a plush armchair. She watched them whispering to each other. She did not look defeated. She looked angry.

Jackson had rejected her. He had stepped away. But she had seen the shock in his eyes. She knew she had unsettled him. The comfortable, ignorant peace he lived in was gone.

She knew the boundary existed now. Which meant she knew exactly where to strike next.

Later that night, Janice sat in her bedroom in the quiet house.

She sat in front of the vanity mirror, dragging a brush through her dark hair. She replayed the moment in Jackson’s room. She replayed the rigid set of his jaw and the horror in his voice.

You are my sister.

Janice set the hairbrush down on the glass tabletop.

"That is the problem," Janice whispered to her reflection.

She picked up her phone. She opened her photo gallery and found the picture from the charity gala. Jackson and Zoya.

She zoomed in on Zoya’s hand. The diamond engagement ring caught the light.

Jackson had chosen the lawyer. He had chosen the busy, ambitious woman who barely had time for a family dinner.

If patience was not enough, Janice would have to force him to see what he was ignoring. She was not going to wait for Jackson to choose her anymore.