His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 340: The Missing Sister

Watching the scene unfold, Brandon felt a quiet satisfaction. His tone was light, almost playful, but carried a faint edge of provocation. "Mr. Everhart, you really aren't picky, are you? Getting worked up over every little thing."

Julian turned to look at him, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "You always know just the right moment to drop a sarcastic remark."

Brandon swirled his wine glass slowly, casting a meaningful glance toward the siblings still wrapped in an embrace. "Just curious—you get jealous over brother-sister affection too? Isn't that a bit much?"

Julian set his glass down on the table with a sharp clink. His gaze turned sharp, almost cutting. "Brother-sister affection?" He let out a cold, quiet laugh. "You really think that's all it is?"

"They're fraternal twins," Brandon raised an eyebrow. "If it's not sibling love, what else could it be?"

Julian's smile was faint and bitter. He spoke slowly, his words tinged with clear irritation. "Ethan probably has no idea that his twin sister was actually taken by his mother when she was just a baby. If he ever finds out the truth, all this 'sibling affection' might start to look very different."

The moment those words landed, Brandon's expression shifted completely. He stiffened as if struck, his whole body locking up. Even his voice trembled slightly when he spoke. "Are you serious? Iris... was taken by Ethan's mother?"

Julian frowned, studying Brandon's intense reaction with clear confusion. "Why are you taking this so hard?"

Brandon drew a slow, deep breath and clenched his fists, visibly working to steady himself. He didn't answer Julian's question. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on Iris, watching her intently as minutes ticked by.

Julian glanced over at the two siblings lost in their moment, then back at Brandon's emotionally charged stare. A ripple of irritation passed through him, and he drained his glass in one swift move.

By the time dinner wrapped up and they returned home, it was already past eight in the evening. Everyone retreated to their own rooms to freshen up and unwind.

After showering, Iris threw on a lightweight robe and stepped out onto the balcony. She stood there gazing into the night sky, feeling a deep, persistent ache for her daughter.

She called Beatrice and the nanny to check in, and though she was relieved to hear everything was fine at home, the longing only seemed to grow stronger in the quiet of the evening.

"Still up?"

A low male voice came from behind her. Iris turned to see Brandon standing there in casual loungewear. He walked over and joined her by the railing.

"I just got off the phone with Harper," Iris said, putting a little intentional distance between them to avoid any misunderstanding. "I was about to head to bed. Good night, Dr. Whitmore."

But Brandon gently caught her wrist. "Iris, I need to talk to you."

Her heart gave a small, nervous jump. She met his eyes, which held a warmth and depth that felt suddenly too intimate—a softness that could easily be misread. An uneasy feeling washed over her, sharpened by Julian's earlier warning. What if Brandon's feelings weren't purely platonic after all?

She decided to speak first, her voice gentle but firm. "Dr. Whitmore, I really do appreciate how kind you've been to me. But there's only ever been one man in my heart. That hasn't changed, and it won't. I need you to understand—you're a dear friend, but that's all."

To her surprise, Brandon offered a warm, knowing smile and nodded. "I know. You don't have to worry about that—because there's a woman in my heart, too." He paused, studying her curious expression. "You're wondering why I've been so good to you, aren't you? Why I even transferred to Edulet City and looked out for you for over a year?"

Iris nodded, her confusion clear.

Brandon drew her a little closer and pulled out his phone. "Here, let me show you something." He handed it to her. "Play this video."

Iris took the phone and tapped play. It was a recording from more than twenty years earlier.

In the clip, a young, visibly pregnant woman sat beside a little boy in front of a birthday cake, both smiling brightly as they sang "Happy Birthday." Another voice, cheerful and warm, joined in from off-camera. It was a happy family of three, frozen in a moment of pure joy.

"That's my mom," Brandon said softly. Just hearing her voice again made his eyes glisten with emotion. "She was eight months pregnant with my little sister here. I was three. This... is the last video she left behind before she passed."

Iris felt a pang of sadness. She looked up at him, her voice gentle. "Dr. Whitmore, your mom was beautiful. But it's been so long... I hope you've been able to find some peace."

Brandon shook his head gently, cutting in. "Look closer, Iris. Don't you see it? Don't you think you look a lot like her?"

Iris went still for a few seconds, then looked down and played the video once more. The woman on screen was radiant—her smile warm and bright, her presence elegant yet full of life. Compared to her, Iris didn't feel she measured up.

"Your mom is stunning," she said quietly. "I don't see how I could possibly resemble her."

Brandon took the phone back, swiped through his photo album, and handed it to her again. "Look at this picture. Look at the features—the shape of the eyes, the smile. That's why I've always felt so drawn to you, Iris. You remind me so much of her. I can't help but want to look out for you. I can't help but imagine... you as the little sister I never got to meet."

Iris stared at the photo. This time, she saw it—the resemblance was subtle but unmistakable, in the curve of the cheeks, the warmth in the eyes, the way she held herself. Her heart began to beat faster, her hands trembling slightly as the weight of his words settled over her.