Page 11 of Heartless Stepbrother
I closed my eyes and waited for the oblivion of sleep.
But it never came.
Instead, my mind spun. A carousel of images blurred past. My mother’s smile at the arrivals gate, the way the ocean had glowed at sunset like liquid amber, the taste of mango on my tongue, the laughter of strangers echoing across the resort. Beautiful things. Safe things.
And then—
A mansion. Stark and stately, with too many rooms and not enough warmth. Palo Alto. My new school. Lockers and whispered stares. The careful way I would have to navigate the social hierarchy like it was a minefield. And worse…them.
Marcus and Riley. The strangers I was supposed to share a house with. All sharp edges and silences. Both of them carrying something dark behind their eyes. Something I couldn’t quite name, but instinctively knew to fear.
I blamed the messages for it. For the way fear bloomed inside me every time I thought of them. Each warning had sunk its claws in deep, feeding the unease until it grew wild, twisting through everything I imagined about Marcus and Riley. Without those words, maybe I would’ve walked into this new life with open eyes instead of seeing monsters in the dark. Maybe I would’ve trusted what my mother saw in them.
A shiver traced my spine despite the warm sheets. I tossed, I turned. I fought the pillow into different shapes, none of them right. The lull of the ocean beyond the open lanai that wassoothing hours ago now clawed at my nerves. A steady, ceaseless hush that felt like a warning.
I couldn’t breathe.
My legs kicked the covers away, a frustrated hiss slipping between my lips. I sat up, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. The darkness pressed in, not heavy, butwatchful. As if something waited just beyond the walls.
Enough.
The room was too quiet. Too still. Like it was holding its breath with me.
I couldn’t lie still any longer. I needed to move. To break the inertia. To run from thoughts that didn’t yet have names.
I slipped out of bed like a secret.
My feet found the cool kiss of the wooden floor, silent as shadows as I crept toward my suitcase. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Darkness suited me tonight, its hush, its weight, its promise to keep what needed to stay buried. I found a thin cardigan by feel, the cotton worn soft by time, and pulled it over my T-shirt. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender and home, though that word had lost its shape in my mouth lately.
My fingers curled around the door handle, hesitating only a moment before I turned it slowly, letting myself out into the hallway with the careful quiet of someone used to sneaking away from things that hurt.
Outside, the resort slept.
Muted lanterns cast halos of amber light along the winding paths, their glow barely cutting through the velvet dark. The air wrapped around me like a whispered confession, warm, moist, and fragrant with jasmine and something rawer. Wilder. The scent of untouched earth from the jungle just beyond the landscaped paradise. Like the island still remembered it was a beast before it was tamed.
I walked.
Not with purpose. Not at first. My bare feet carried me forward, one step, then another, as if trying to outrun the chaos I hadn’t let myself feel. The trail curved through gardens too perfect to be real. Orchids bloomed in deliberate places. Palm fronds rustled with secrets in the wind. Every corner of the resort was manicured within an inch of its soul. Even nature here had been ordered to behave.
But not me.
Not my thoughts.
They pulsed beneath the surface, jagged and relentless. My future waited on the other side of tomorrow, coiled and ready to strike. New school. New home. A newfamily. One I hadn’t chosen. One I hadn’t wanted.
I passed by the pools. Still and glassy, they shimmered under the moonlight like silent lies. Water without ripples. Beauty without truth. The cabanas stood empty, their sheer curtains dancing in the breeze like ghosts. And somehow, the silence that was soothing to most, only deepened the loneliness digging its claws into my chest.
I didn’t belong here.
Not on this island. Not in my mother’s curated fairytale. And definitely not in the house I would be walking into in a few days. A house that belonged to them.
The Maddox family.
The thought of their name made something cold slither down my spine.
I shook the thought away and followed the call of something ancient.
The sea.
