One Night With The Wrong Brother

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 680 | Released on: 22/01/2026

by Katherine's ragged breathing. Gus didn't move. He kep

le tear track down her cheek and drip onto her collarb

he wall. He reached into the pocket of his dress

eside her head. The sound cracke

in horror. She looked at the checkbook

p off a silver pen. He spat the c

t under

e only he used when he wanted to be condescending. "Services re

knees buckled, and she slid down the wall an inch

short, sharp laugh. "What do you w

she whisper

tip of the pen to the paper. "Five thousand? T

e pen scratching against the paper was violent, aggressive. He rippe

ld. He jammed the piece of paper into he

t," he

check fluttered to the dirty

enough? That's more than y

coalesced into a blinding, white-hot anger. She wasn't a whore. She wasn't a

ped to h

ling. "Finally showing your

up, her legs shaking but holding her

" she said. Her voic

eck in half. Th

l like confett

For a second, his mask slipped. His eyes widened, and there

as it came, replaced by t

his shirt. He adjusted his cuff, regaini

I hope that nobility pays y

walked away, down the dark

Katherine screamed at his back. "

oulders were rigid, the muscles of his bac

id, his voice low and final,

ylight cut into the corridor, blinding Kathe

round herself, burying her face in her knees. Her hand found a piece of the torn che

Chapter End

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One Night With The Wrong Brother

Tangye Wanzi Modern

“I thought I was waking up in the arms of Arthur, the man I loved. But as the morning light hit the Hamptons estate, the man buttoning his cuffs by the window turned around with eyes like chips of ice. It was Augustus Riddle, Arthur's cruel younger brother, and I had just spent the night whispering confessions of love into the wrong man's ear. The night I thought was a beautiful beginning turned into a devastating nightmare. Instead of comfort, Gus treated me like a stain on his expensive carpet, scribbling a check for "services rendered" before shoving me into a dark service corridor to hide my existence from his brother. "How much does it cost to buy your silence?" He sneered, before leaving me barefoot in a torrential downpour while he drove away in a luxury Cadillac. Four years later, I am a struggling actress in Los Angeles, working double shifts as a barista just to keep the lights on. My life was finally stable until my roommate dragged me to a high-end dinner to meet her new "influential" boyfriend. The man sitting at the table, looking more arrogant and lethal than ever, was Augustus. He spent the entire night humiliating me, calling me a pathetic amateur and a social climber in front of my only friends. When I fled into the rain and collapsed on the sidewalk, skinning my knee until I bled, he watched from his car. He saw me clutching a plastic baggie containing the taped-together pieces of that four-year-old check-the only proof of my shame. He looked at me like roadkill, rolled up his window, and drove off into the dark. I couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why did he hate me enough to crush me, yet remember that I couldn't handle the smell of cigarette smoke? Why did he leave me bleeding in the street, only to send expensive medical supplies and coffee to my door the very next morning? "I'm moving out." I told my roommates, realizing that Gus Riddle didn't just want to destroy me; he wanted to haunt me. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out with eighty dollars to my name, finally ready to disappear into the city before he could burn the rest of my life to the ground.”