Jasmine, 10 Years Old, PT 4

Warren grunted and wandered over to the chess game in progress. He examined the board for a moment before he used the queen to take a pawn and attack a rook.

Jasmine’s smile faltered when she saw Colette’s vivid blue gaze was glowing with anger.

“What were you thinking?” Colette grabbed Jasmine’s arm and gave her a little shake. “You know better than to leave the ballroom without informing someone where you’re going. I’ve been looking for you for fifteen minutes.”

Jasmine stared up at her sister, stunned into silence by Colette’s bruising grip and the fury that contorted her perpetual polite facade. She’d never seen Colette so upset in her life.

“It’s my fault,” Kira piped up. “I really wanted a tour. Jasmine didn’t want to, but I pushed her to—”

“Jasmine knows better.” Colette’s steely gaze didn’t shift from her youngest sister. “Do you know what could have happened to you?”

“But we didn’t leave the penthouse,” Jasmine said, bewildered by her sister’s overblown reaction to showing her friends around. “We were just down the hall—”

Colette’s tone dropped to an arctic, cutting whisper. “We have nearly one hundred guests and countless staff coming and going constantly. Anything can happen at any time. You never let down your guard, even in your own home. Do you understand?”

She didn’t, but she was too scared to ask her sister to elaborate. Colette may be ten years older than her, but at times like this, their age gap seemed much larger. Colette felt more like a strict aunt rather than an older sister.

“Come on, you two,” Ariana said, gesturing to Penelope and Kira to proceed her out of the room.

“It’s not Jasmine’s fault,” Kira began again, but Ariana held up a hand and shook her head.

As she and Colette followed in their wake, she whispered, “Please don’t tell Dad.”

“It seems he’s the only person you listen to,” Colette said.

She clasped her sister’s hand between both of hers and tried to appeal to a soft side she knew her sister didn’t possess. “But he’ll banish me from attending any parties for the rest of the year! I won’t see you or Ariana for months!”

“So be it,” Colette said coldly, her earlier agitation hidden behind an impassive mask. “If seeing us meant so much to you, you wouldn’t have broken the rules to entertain your friends.”

"Please, Colette,” Jasmine begged. “I swear, I’ll never ever—”

“Colette,” Warren called.

Colette stopped in her tracks. “Yes?”

“I’d like to speak to you privately.”

When Colette made no reply, Jasmine glanced up and took in her sister’s curiously blank face. She squeezed her lax, cold hand. “Col?”

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Sins. Please do not share or distribute.

Copyright © 2025 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.