I can’t stop thinking about it. My father had another child. Someone out there shares my blood, my family name, and I never knew. The weight of the revelation settles deep in my chest, a tangled mess of emotions I can’t quite unravel. I need to find out who it is. My dorm room is chaos. Papers are strewn across my desk, my bed, and even the floor. My laptop screen is filled with open tabs—family records, birth registries, anything that might give me a lead. A whiteboard stands against the wall, names and connections scrawled in red marker, some scratched out so aggressively the ink is smudged. I grip another marker, biting my lip as I stare at the mess, willing something—anything—to make sense. The door swings open. “What the hell is this?” Alexander’s amused voice fills the space. I barely glance at him, too focused on the tangled mess of information in front of me. He closes the door behind him, stepping inside and surveying my disaster zone with an almost impressed smirk. “Prescott,” he drawls, picking up a stack of papers. “I always knew you had a bit of a crazy streak, but this? This is next-level. Are we planning a murder, or solving one?” “Shut up,” I mutter, snatching the papers from him. I skim through them, trying to remember what I was looking for before he walked in. “I’m trying to figure something out.” He raises an eyebrow, unbothered by my snappiness. “Something, huh? Or, let me guess—you’re obsessing over that little family bombshell you dropped on me yesterday?” I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Yes, okay? Yes. I need to know who they are. If it’s an older sibling or a younger one. And now that you’re here, you’re going to help me.” Alexander watches me for a moment, then sighs dramatically. “Fine. But only because I enjoy watching you spiral.” He picks up another paper, casually scanning the text—until his expression changes. His usual amusement fades, brows furrowing slightly as his eyes flick over the document. “Prescott,” he says slowly. “Why the hell is my uncle’s name on this?” My breath catches. “What? Let me see.” I snatch the paper from him, my heart pounding as I skim through the lines of text. And then—I freeze. Fuck. I look up at Alexander, hesitating for only a second before deciding. “Alright. You want to know? Fine.” I tell him everything—what I found out about my father, about the affair, about the missing sibling. And now, since his family is somehow tangled up in this mess too, I need his help. Alexander processes the information, running a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “Well, shit. If my family’s involved, we’re going to need more than just a conspiracy board.” We spend the rest of the night making calls, printing documents, anything that could get us closer to the truth. Names, dates, locations—we chase every lead, desperate to put the pieces together. Then, somewhere between our third coffee and Alexander swearing at a faulty printer, he says it. “Jasmine.” I blink, looking up from my laptop. “Jasmine? I don’t know a Jasmine. Do you?” Alexander shrugs. “Not really. The name came up in one of these records. You sure you don’t know—” I sit up straight, my pulse spiking. “Wait. Jasmine. What’s the last name?” He flips through the documents, scanning the text. “Uh… Carter? Jasmine Carter.” The room tilts. “Jasmine Carter,” I whisper, flipping through my own mess of papers until I find it. “She was supposed to be my roommate before you. But she never showed up.” Alexander frowns. “Prescott… there’s a missing persons report here. Says she disappeared two weeks ago.” The blood drains from my face. She’s missing. And she might be my sister. **Chapter 17** The realization slams into me like a freight train. My hands tighten around the edges of the paper as I read the words again, just to be sure I’m not imagining them. Missing: Jasmine Carter. Last seen two weeks ago. “This can’t be a coincidence,” I whisper, my throat suddenly dry. “She was supposed to be here. She was assigned to this room. And now she’s just… gone?” Alexander leans back against the desk, arms crossed. “Damn. You really don’t do things halfway, do you?” I ignore him, pacing the length of the room. “I have to find her. If she’s my sister—if my father knew about her—this isn’t just some random disappearance. This is something bigger.” Alexander watches me carefully. “So, what’s the plan? Because if this is connected to our families, we’re not just poking a bear—we’re walking straight into its den.” I swallow hard. He’s right. But I don’t care. “We start with what we have,” I say firmly. “We dig deeper into her records, her last known location, any friends or family she might have contacted before she went missing.” Alexander smirks, already pulling out his phone. “Good thing I have some connections.” The rest of the night is a blur of phone calls, frantic research, and an unshakable sense of dread.