The Bond Between Us ( Anastasia and Herman) novel Chapter 830

Herman grinned, ruffling Anastasia’s hair. “Doesn’t matter where you’re staying. James is back today—I’ll have him check out Pattie’s throat again. You go find Monica.”

“How’d you know I wanted to see Monica?”

He always knew what she was thinking. That feeling—being understood without a word—was just the best. It was like the old days, when he just got her.

“I saw you at dinner, chatting with Monica, grinning like you were about to hear some juicy gossip. I could tell you were itching to go see her.” Herman’s lips quirked in a smile. “Go on. I’ll head home and check on the kids.”

“Alright.” Anastasia handed him the car keys. “You drive home. I’ll just grab a rideshare to Monica’s.”

“No way. I’ll take a cab—you keep the car, it’s easier for you.”

And just like that, Anastasia drove off to Monica’s, while Herman went to hail a taxi.

Oakridge Residences.

Half the place was ten-story condos, the other half rows of townhouses. Monica’s condo was on the eighth floor, with a huge balcony that caught the afternoon sun. It was just one of her properties—she’d made good money over the years. If she hadn’t gotten burned by that jerk, she’d probably have another place by now.

Anastasia had Monica’s fingerprint lock code, so she let herself in. Monica was stomping around, phone pressed to her ear, fuming. “Jackson, are you an idiot? How did I end up with a brother this clueless? Go deal with her yourself! Don’t whine to me—I’ll be there in forty minutes!” She hung up with a huff.

Anastasia set her bag down, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? I walk in and you’re already on a rampage. Don’t scare Jason. What’s up with Jackson?”

Jackson was Monica’s little brother, now a college junior.

“Jason got called out—a new lead on that serial killer case.” Monica shoved on her sneakers. “Let’s go, Ana. My genius brother is getting played by some girl at his school. He didn’t ask me for money, but went and got loans online to bankroll her shopping—and gave her half my designer bags! Now she’s dumped him and he’s bawling about it over the phone.”

Jackson’s tuition and living expenses were all Monica’s doing. He was a bookworm, top of his class, but way too soft. Monica was fire and thunder; he was quiet and gentle. Even Abby used to joke they’d swapped personalities at birth.

No way she’d admit she’d dumped him for someone richer.

Monica watched from the car, seething. Was this Jackson’s idea of standing up for himself? He was just letting himself get humiliated.

She blared the horn. Every head turned.

Monica hadn’t brought her own car—she’d borrowed Anastasia’s: a top-of-the-line Maybach, polished to a mirror shine. For a woman to roll up in that? Total boss move.

She hopped out, sunglasses on, strutting right up to the crowd. She slapped the hood for good measure. “Jackson! Pick up those bags. You hand out tens of thousands’ worth of designer purses to someone who doesn’t even get what they are? That’s a waste. And that dress she’s wearing—wasn’t that the one you bought for fifteen grand? Make her give it back.”

Anastasia watched from the car, grinning as Monica went full protective big sister.

With Monica in his corner, Jackson was going to be just fine.