My Stepbrother's Deadly Game of Love

ter

filled the air, the clinking of champagne glasses marking the celebration of a new union. My union. Guests mingled, dressed in their finest, t

owever, kept drifting to the entrance, a restless, primal urge to seek out a ghost. I scanned

hroat. Ashley squeezed my arm, her smile unwavering. But

e wa

error. I remember pushing at the twisted door, trying to free her, trying to soothe her frantic cries. My priority had been to get her

ely, utterly forg

er scream as the burning debris fell onto her legs. I hadn't seen it happen then, not directly. I had been too busy helping Ashley

trauma, a possibility of nerve damage. But I had brushed it aside, focused o

her face a mask of worry. She was dialing again, her brow furrowed in fru

always been dramatic. She'll show up when she's

ith a rare defiance. "She's my daughter, A

issive hand. "She's fine. S

fear gripped me. Bianca always landed on her f

led responses – they were meaningless sounds, background noise to the f

rfectly cut diamond glittered under the lights. But my mind

ity that had disarmed me. She held up a twisted aluminum pull-tab from a soda can, its dull silver gleaming i

prised sound. "A pull-tab? You'

nything else. And I' m stamping my claim. You' re mine. And I' m yours. Got it?" She' d slippe

sive love in her eyes – it was more real, more potent, than the gleaming diamond in my hand. It was a stark contrast,

a sharp, impatient sound. "

me. I couldn' t do it. I couldn't put this symbol of a hollow future on Ashley's finger, not when the ghost of Bianca's pull-tab

And in my blind pursuit of it, I had annihilated the one person who truly saw me, truly loved me. The on

face crumpled, pure confusion. The guests gasped. My fathe

in my heart, it had been a genuine bond, a fierce, protective comm

ful and undeniable. Every act of cruelty, every calculated blow, had been a desperate attempt to protect myself from the terrifying reality th

her, crippled her, driven her away. And in doing so, I had silenced

rantically trying to call Bianca. "She's not answering,"

e a mask of fury. "What is the meaning

faces of the guests, then landed on Corrine. "Bianca," I r

as in the car, Hunter. In the ambulance. She was badly hurt." Her voice broke.

ce held me captive in a embrace. The legs I had seen twisted and crushed, engulfed in flames, while I saved someone else. My calculated

venge, of my indifference, crumbled around me. All that was left was the horrifyi

ode out of the hall, ignoring the shocked whispers, the angry shouts of my father. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, echoing the urgency wi