Page 64 of Heartless Stepbrother

Therestaurantfeltlikea different world entirely, as if the night before had been carved from another lifetime and left to rot on the sand.

The resort’s breakfast pavilion was a cathedral of light, so bright and serene it almost hurt. Polished teak gleamed like honeyed glass in the morning sun that had only just begunits climb, still gentle, still harmless, turning the ocean into a vast, shimmering sheet of turquoise that looked too smooth, too perfect to be real.

Everything smelled of freshly ground Kona coffee, ripe fruit, and soft blooms. It was paradise sculpted for people who believed themselves untouchable. A room made for peace, not panic. For beginnings, not threats.

I sat across from my mother, my fingers wrapped around a mug of herbal tea I barely tasted. I tried to absorb the serenity, let it fill the cracks inside me. Instead, it only slid over the surface, unable to sink in.

My mother, on the other hand, radiated joy like a lantern. She wore a pale silk caftan printed with washed-out ocean colors, soft blues and greens blending like watercolor. The faint laugh lines around her eyes had softened overnight, as though happiness itself had ironed them smooth. She looked rested. Hopeful. Safe.

This was the woman I had vowed to protect. The woman whose peace had become the only currency I had left. Everything I did now was for her, even the things that gutted me.

“It was such a beautiful night, darling,” she said, swirling cream into her coffee. The spoon clinked gently against the porcelain, delicate and content. She sighed, a warm, weightless sound, and leaned back in her woven chair. “Everything was perfect. The weather, the music… and watching you and Riley.” Her smile softened further. “I know it’s a big adjustment, but I’m so happy you two are getting along so well.”

I forced a small smile, brittle and dangerous, like thin glass warmed too quickly. “We’re fine, Mum. Just… adjusting.”

Getting along so well.

The phrase echoed in my mind, warped and mocking. She saw politeness, cooperation, the illusion of harmony. She saw Riley offering me a chair at the rehearsal dinner, or dancing with me,or speaking just kindly enough that strangers would believe we shared some budding sibling bond.

She didn’t see the rest.

The whispers meant only for me.

The dark promises woven through his voice.

The way he looked at me, as if he was peeling layers away, stripping me down to something raw and exposed.

She didn’t feel the electric terror whenever he stepped too close, or the way the world tilted when he smirked like he knew every thought in my head.

To her, he was a dream.

To me, he was a storm dressed as a savior.

Her happiness was too bright for shadows. She didn’t notice mine stretching long across the table.

“That’s all I can ask for,” she said, oblivious. “Really, I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is knowing you two have connected. He’s going to show you everything you need to know in Palo Alto.”

The words struck me with the cold clang of a prison gate slamming shut.

Palo Alto.

More time with Riley.

More proximity.

More of his control.

The horrific irony tasted metallic on my tongue.

I speared a piece of dragonfruit, brought it to my mouth, and focused on chewing slowly. Calmly. Politely. As though my mother’s joy wasn’t building bars around me with every breath she took.

Because I couldn’t let her see it.

Not the dread.

Not the fear.

Not the truth of the boy she thought was a blessing.