The Grape Belle

I got into a massive fight with Ashton because he ate a grape fed to him by Layla.

The next day, he had my sisters targeted therapy medication discontinued.

That day, I knelt on the living room floor of the Crawford estate for six solid hours.

Only then did he relent, pinching my chin and saying, Seraphina, your sister's life is a gift from me. When I want you to be good, you will be good.

So the next time I saw Layla slip a hotel key card into Ashtons pocket, I stood in the darkest corner of the room, slowly finished the wine in my glass, and didnt even flinch.

1.

At the celebratory banquet for the auction, my director pushed me forward to make a toast. Ashton was surrounded by a crowd.

Layla was practically plastered to his side, holding a champagne flute, her smile sickeningly sweet.

As I approached, I overheard her say, Ash, Ive booked the suite upstairs. I even have some tea ready for you to sober up.

As she spoke, her hand slid naturally into the pocket of his suit jacket.

A key card, pushed in by her slender fingers.

A few men around them exchanged glances. Someone whistled.

Mr. Crawford, looks like little Layla is planning to take care of you all night.

Youre a lucky man, Ashton.

Ashton said nothing, just glanced down at his pocket.

When he looked up again, his gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on my face.

I knew that look all too well.

It was scrutinizing, expectant, with a hint of defiance.

I walked over, holding my wine glass.

He smoothly wrapped an arm around my waist, his palm warm against my skin.

What took you so long? he asked.

I was double-checking the numbers, I said, handing him my glass. The director wanted me to give you a toast.

He took it and drank, his brow furrowing slightly. This wine is terrible.

Layla immediately chimed in. I have a better one in the suite. An 82 Lafite.

Another round of knowing chuckles went through the group.

Ashton ignored her, his eyes fixed on my face. You look pale.

Just a little tired, I said.

Then you should leave early, he murmured, leaning closer. Ill have the driver take you.

No, its fine. I took a small step back. Ill get a cab.

His hand suddenly tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. His voice hardened. Be good.

The words were quiet, but they carried an undeniable weight.

My mind flashed back to that night three months ago.

It was a similar party. Layla had fed him a grape.

I had smashed my glass on the spot.

The next day, the hospital called, their voice urgent. Ms. Xie, your sisters targeted therapy medication wasnt approved. Stopping the treatment could have serious consequences. You need to do something, quickly.

What do you mean? My voice was trembling. Everything was fine last week

I called Ashton like a madwoman.

He finally picked up on the seventeenth try.

Ashton, Willows medication

Yeah, I stopped it. Youve got quite a temper, dont you?

I cried. I begged. Finally, in resignation, I knelt on the floor of his living room.

He sat on the sofa, reading a document, not even looking at me until my voice was raw from sobbing. Learned your lesson?

I nodded, tears splashing onto the marble floor.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number. Give her a weeks supply.

After hanging up, he walked over, bent down, and gripped my chin. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating. Seraphina, your sisters life is a gift from me. When I want you to be good, you will be good. Understand?

I nodded frantically.

Seraphina? Ashtons voice pulled me back to the present.

I snapped out of my daze and found him staring at me.

Layla sidled up, linking her arm through his. Ash, should we head upstairs then?

Ashton didnt answer, just raised an eyebrow at me.

I picked up my purse and smiled at him. You two have fun. Im going to head home.

As I turned to leave, I heard someone whisper, Wow, she can really take it.

The elevator doors closed, and the reflection in the mirror showed a pale face with perfectly applied lipstick.

My phone vibrated. A message from Ashton: Really? No scene?

I stared at the words, typed and deleted a reply several times, and finally wrote back: Get home safe.

The city lights blurred past the car window.

I looked down, remembering what my sister had asked me last time. Sera, is the medicine really expensive?

I had smiled and stroked her hair. Not at all. You just focus on getting better. Dont worry about things like that.

But the truth was, I couldnt afford it.

Eighty thousand a box, one box a week.

Without Ashton, I couldn't even afford a single pill.

So what was Layla slipping a key card into his pocket?

Even if she walked into that hotel room with him right in front of my eyes, I would have to smile and close the door for them.

Because my sister couldnt stop her medication.

If she did, she would die.

So I had to be good.

Extra, extra good.

2.

At Layla's birthday party, she publicly put a diamond pinky ring on Ashton's finger.

Ashton was visibly taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. He glanced down at the ring, then up at Layla's expectant face, and finally smiled, slipping the ring onto his little finger.

Layla immediately stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Ashton didn't push her away. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear.

Layla's face instantly turned crimson, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she smiled.

I retreated to the darkest corner, drinking one glass after another. I was gripping the rim of my glass so tightly my fingertips had turned white.

Halfway through the party, I escaped to the terrace. I heard familiar, steady footsteps behind me.

Ashton leaned against the railing next to me. What are you hiding out here for?

I didn't speak, my gaze fixed on a cruise ship on the river in the distance.

He took out a cigarette case. Smoke curled from his lips, dissipating into the night.

About the ring, he paused, she didnt tell me beforehand.

I still said nothing, just tightened my grip on my glass.

Its just a childish game, he said, flicking the ash from his cigarette. Dont take it seriously.

The night wind blew past, carrying the scent of cedarwood and smoke from him. I used to love that smell. Now, it just made me feel suffocated.

Ashton, I finally said, my voice barely a whisper in the wind. Willows latest test results are back.

She needs to switch to a new medication. I turned and looked him straight in the eye. Two hundred thousand a box. One box a week.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette. He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. Next month, Layla is going to Europe for a three-month course.

My heart sank.

Youll go with her. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to face me fully. The day she comes back, the medication starts.

Willow cant wait three months, my voice began to tremble.

Then find a way to make her wait. He took a step forward, his shadow completely enveloping me, exuding an oppressive aura. Or, you could find a way to make Layla come back sooner.

I looked up at the face I had loved for three years.

Ashton, I heard my own voice shaking, thats your sister you promised to take care of. You said you would cure her.

And I am taking care of her. He took another half step forward. Im giving her a chance. Im giving you a chance.

His breath, laced with the scent of tobacco, fanned across my face. It was a smell that had once captivated me. Now, it just made me sick.

A chance for what? I asked.

A chance to prove youre worth it. He raised his hand, his fingertips brushing against my cheek. To prove youre more sensible than Layla, more deserving of my investment.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened them again, I looked at him and said, word by word, Fine. Ill go.

He smiled, a victors smile, laced with a complex emotion I couldnt decipher. He reached out to stroke my hair, but I turned my head, avoiding his touch.

His hand froze in mid-air. After a moment, he let it drop.

Get some rest, he said, then turned and walked back into the blindingly bright party.

I leaned against the railing, watching his back disappear behind the glass door. The music from the ballroom started up again, light and cheerful. It seeped through the cracks in the door, like a sound from another world.

3.

The Parisian winter was bone-chillingly cold.

Layla lived in Ashton's luxurious apartment, sleeping in until noon every day. I stayed in a cramped guest room, preparing breakfast before she woke up and redoing her schedule over and over under her critical gaze.

She had endless demands.

The coffee had to be at a precise temperature, her clothes had to be perfectly ironed, and even the temperature of her bathwater had to be measured with a thermometer.

When she was in a good mood, she would tell me about her Parisian adventures. When she was in a bad mood, she would take it out on me.

Every time she frowned, every time her tone held a hint of dissatisfaction, I would think of Willow in the hospital, of the two-hundred-thousand-dollar medication. I would swallow whatever I wanted to say and just lower my head and say, "I'll do it again."

In the third week, she took me to a gallery opening.

A French man stared at me all night.

His fingers would "accidentally" brush against my waist, my arm.

Layla chatted with him in French. They would laugh from time to time, their eyes sweeping over me.

I knew they were talking about me. The flirtatious glances, the suggestive smiles, said it all.

On the way back to the apartment, Layla leaned against the car window and said suddenly, "That Frenchman wants to be your sugar daddy. He's offering a lot."

I didn't say anything, just continued to fold the shawl she had tossed on the seat.

"But I turned him down," she smiled. "I told him you belong to Ashton, and you're off-limits."

The car drove along the Seine, the lights from the banks reflecting on the water. I stared at the lights and said nothing.

The next morning, before dawn, I was jolted awake by my phone.

The caller ID was from the hospital back home.

I answered, and the doctor's urgent voice came through. "Ms. Xie, your sister's condition has suddenly worsened. She needs surgery immediately!"

I shot upright. What kind of surgery?

"The tumor is pressing on her main airway. She's having severe difficulty breathing. Without surgery, she has three days at most."

My hand started to shake so badly I could barely hold the phone. "The cost"

"We estimate around eight hundred thousand. And," the doctor paused, his voice low, "Mr. Crawford isn't answering his phone. We need a family member to sign the consent forms immediately."

I hung up and, with trembling fingers, called Ashton. Once, twice, three times. All went to voicemail. I called his assistant, who told me apologetically that Mr. Crawford was in a crucial meeting and had given strict instructions not to be disturbed.

"My sister is dying!" I screamed into the phone. "Make him answer!"

"Ms. Xie, I really can't"

I hung up and, with shaking fingers, booked the fastest flight back home. The earliest was in six hours. I jumped out of bed and started throwing things into a suitcase.

The noise woke Layla. She came out in a silk robe, frowning. Whats going on? Its so loud.

"Willow is in critical condition. I have to go back."

"Now?" Her face fell, her tone displeased. But were supposed to go to Versailles tomorrow. Everythings arranged, the hotel, the guide, its all booked.

I stopped what I was doing, looked up at her, and said, enunciating each word, My. Sister. Is. Dying.

She took a step back, biting her lip.

Seeing that I was serious about packing, she turned and went back to her room.

The door wasn't fully closed. I could hear her on the phone with Ashton, her voice choked with tears. Ash, Seraphina is insisting on leaving. She doesn't care about my feelings at all, everything was already planned

I didn't listen to the rest. I zipped up my suitcase, grabbed it, and walked out of the apartment.

The door closed behind me, cutting off her plaintive voice.

I didn't sleep a second during the thirteen-hour flight. The hospital called one after another. Willow's condition was getting worse.

Finally, the doctor said, "Ms. Xie, your sister is waiting for you. She's holding on, she said she wants to see you one last time."

I covered my mouth, tears splashing onto my phone screen.

I landed at four in the afternoon, local time.

When I rushed into the hospital, the surgery had already started.

A nurse handed me a stack of forms. My hands were shaking too much to sign. The pen kept slipping from my fingers.

Finally, I gripped the pen with all my might and carved out my name, one stroke at a time.

The surgery lasted six hours.

I sat in the hallway for six hours, staring at the red light above the operating room door until my eyes were sore and aching.

Every minute felt like a year.

The light finally went out.

The doctor came out, his face exhausted, his scrubs stained with blood. He looked at me and slowly shook his head.

I stood up, my legs giving out from under me. I had to grab the wall to stay upright.

"We did everything we could," his voice was hoarse. We were too late. The tumor was too deep, and there was massive bleeding during the surgery

I couldn't hear the rest of what he said. A nurse wheeled a gurney out, a white sheet covering a small body. I walked over and lifted a corner of the sheet.

Willow's face was so pale, so peaceful. Her long eyelashes made her look like she was just asleep.

"Willow," I whispered, my voice trembling uncontrollably. Seras here.

A nurse tried to take the gurney, but I shook my head and pushed it myself. Down the long hallway, into the elevator, into the morgue. An attendant asked me to fill out some paperwork. I signed, swiped my card. As the machine spit out the receipt, I remembered Ashton saying, two hundred thousand a box, and the day she comes back, the medication starts.

Not anymore.

It was all over.