Jasper had heard Edward mention Bella’s little sister before, but she’d always been a distant figure—someone who existed in the periphery, never close enough to warrant his attention. He had never personally met her, nor had he needed to. Until now.

The Cullen house was supposed to be empty of humans. And yet, the unmistakable sound of a heartbeat—soft, steady, distinctly mortal—echoed through the space.

Jasper froze, his senses sharpening. It wasn’t Bella’s; hers was too familiar, too closely tied to Edward’s constant awareness. This one was lighter, quicker, its rhythm tapping gently against his heightened senses like rainfall on glass.

Curious, he followed it.

As he stepped into the living room, he found her sitting on the floor, legs tucked beneath her, completely at ease. A thick book rested open in her lap—one of Carlisle’s, by the look of it. She was younger than Bella, that much was clear, but there was something familiar about the curve of her mouth, the way she held herself—deliberate, observant.

Jasper’s brows knit together. She should have noticed him by now.

He shifted slightly, letting his presence be known, and that was when she finally looked up.

Large, expressive eyes met his, assessing but not fearful. That was the first thing that struck him. Most humans, even those unaware of what he was, felt something in their gut—a primal warning. Even Bella, despite her stubbornness, had carried a faint trace of unease at first.

But this girl? Nothing.

Jasper studied her carefully, reaching instinctively for the emotions that should have been there—curiosity, surprise, maybe even a flicker of nervousness. Instead, he was met with silence. A void.

His frown deepened.

“You must be Bella’s sister.” His voice was careful, even measured, but his confusion bled into the words.