The Stepbrothers Secret Toy Is Marrying Someone Else

After getting back together with my stepbrother, I stopped pushing to go public. Our nights were a catalogue of secrets and desperate, frantic pleasure; our days, a perfectly scripted show of sibling affection. He’d rub my hair, a small, smug smile playing on his lips. “See? If you’d been this compliant earlier, we never would’ve broken up.” “Our relationship will always be under wraps, but as long as you don’t make a scene, we’ll never have to end it.” I’d just nod, docile and agreeable. Later, my mother, Eliza, asked me to help Bradon pick out an engagement prospect. I pointed to the photograph of the one with the most conventionally innocent, ‘Golden Girl’ look. “That one,” I said. “Bradon will probably like a clean slate.” Bradon Reid walked in just as my mother, beaming, was telling him about the choices. He didn’t seem to register her words. His smile froze, piece by piece, as he looked at me. He met my placid, obedient gaze, his eyes narrowing in a silent, chilling threat. “Are you absolutely sure you want me to meet her?” I kept my smile soft and compliant. “Mom has excellent taste. She introduced me to some men too, you know.” “You should go, Bradon. Give her a chance.” He was right. Our relationship could never stand in the light. So, I decided to exchange him for someone who could.

1 That night, my mother was asleep just on the other side of the wall. Bradon’s arm wrapped around me from behind, cutting off my breath. His voice sounded scraped raw. “Anya Wells, what was that stunt this afternoon?” “When did Mom introduce you to anyone? How long have you been talking?” I didn’t answer right away. My mother wasn’t the type to act without permission. Just as she’d consulted me before handing out contact information, she must have asked Bradon before compiling a list of potential brides. He had given his consent, yet now he had the nerve to corner me and demand answers? He insisted on forcing a response, his movements rough and impatient. With Mom next door, I didn’t want him to completely lose control. I clung to his shoulder and murmured, “It was just to placate her.” His brow softened slightly, but the darkness in his eyes remained. He flipped us over, clutching my waist, dragging me into the predictable oblivion. Mindful of my mother, we finished quickly, without lingering. The moment we were done, his phone screen lit up. The name displayed was sickeningly familiar: Rebecca King. —His oldest friend. The reason for our last breakup. Once, seeing those two words would have sent me into a blind panic. I wouldn’t let him lend her a jacket. I’d forbid him from taking her video calls. I’d never permit them to meet privately. What did he say back then? “Anya, we are the secret. She’s innocent. Don’t assume everyone is as messed up as we are.” Now, he almost instinctively hung up the call. His voice held a trace of urgency. “Anya, I explained everything to her. She won’t come between us again.” I simply curved my lips into a gentle smile, showing an almost charitable understanding. “It’s fine, you guys talk. I’ll take a shower.” My wrist was suddenly seized. His voice was thick and grating. “I only love you. I only do this with you.” “I’m your boyfriend. You can scream at me, fight me, but why… why don’t you care anymore?” That’s the sick irony of men, isn’t it? They despise your drama until your sudden silence becomes their biggest fear. Exhausted, physically and mentally, I pulled my hand free. “Stop it, Knox Dalton.” The name slipped out before I could stop it. His eyes immediately flared crimson, his voice ringing with disbelief. “Knox Dalton? Who the hell is Knox Dalton?” 2 Bradon was losing control, desperately clinging to a name. “I misspoke.” I turned my face away. He didn’t believe me, reaching for my phone. I frowned and smacked his hand away. “If you have a cuckold fantasy, go see a therapist. I’m not here to manage your twisted needs.” Too weary to argue, I shoved him away and headed to the bathroom. When I emerged, I was dressed and ready to go out. He saw the effort I’d put into my appearance, his voice tight. “You’re going out?” I spritzed perfume on my wrists. “Meeting a friend for dinner.” “Guy or girl? Where? I’ll drive you.” His words were rushed and anxious. I found his smothering questions annoying. “No thanks. Someone’s picking me up.” He had his own obligations. After all, he’d agreed to my mother that he would have dinner with one of his new prospects tonight, just to provoke me. When my best friend, Sara Hayes, arrived, Bradon insisted on following me down. Only after confirming it was a girl did the tension in his jaw ease slightly. In the car, Sara glanced at my neck. “Did your brother still marking his territory?” She was my oldest friend and knew all my ugly secrets. I confirmed it with a sound, then checked the mirror, covering the slight redness with concealer. Bradon had been far too aggressive today. The marks on my neck were superficial, but below my collarbone, the damage was worse. Sara scoffed, then switched subjects. “I heard Rebecca King is going to be there. Want me to call a few friends and open a separate tab?” “No need.” I snapped my compact shut, my voice flat. “She just called Bradon, couldn’t reach him, and then called me… she’s probably losing it right now.” My phone was on silent, so I hadn’t picked up. But Rebecca would be sure I did it on purpose. Sara whistled in appreciation. “Well, I could still bring a couple of hot guys for moral support.” “Pass. I just ate a meal. Everything looks boring right now.” Besides, I had a main course waiting for me later. I needed to conserve my energy. 3 Traffic delayed us, and the private room was already buzzing when we arrived. The conversation had conveniently shifted to Bradon. Rebecca was smiling demurely, her cheeks flushed. The people around her were gushing. “When are we going to see the wedding invitations?” Her voice was soft. “That’s entirely up to Bradon.” A woman at the table chuckled nastily. “Hey, is Anya Wells still harassing her stepbrother? That whole thing was truly disgusting!” “You’re going to be a Reid wife soon. Watch out for her. What kind of woman goes after her own stepbrother?” Bang! Bang! Bang! Sara slammed the door open, practically tearing the knob off. She thrust her phone into the air. “Come on! Say that to the camera again!” A few people’s faces fell. Rebecca quickly smoothed things over. “They were just kidding, Anya. Don’t take it the wrong way.” “Of course not.” I pulled Sara to a seat. Food was served, and the atmosphere grew strained but polite. A few glasses of wine later, Rebecca finally broke. She leaned across the table, her tone strained with concern. “Anya, could you… could you contact Bradon for me?” The room went silent. “Every time he goes to see you, he always stops answering my calls.” She bit her lip, her eyes misting instantly. “I don’t know what to do…” In one fell swoop, she’d painted me as the other woman, the homewrecker. Sara practically leaped across the table. “Oh, for God’s sake! If you can’t reach him, how are you his girlfriend? Are you just a mistress he keeps on the side, pretending to be the main event?” I placed a hand on Sara’s arm. “She didn’t mean it like that. Don’t worry.” Rebecca’s smile was forced. “Contact him? Sure, I can do that,” I said, meeting her gaze. “But I don’t think my brother is free right now.” “I helped him pick out a girl for a setup, based on his preferences.” I put down my fork, my expression one of utter innocence. “They’re probably out on a date. Didn’t you know?” Rebecca’s smile cracked. 4 The latter half of the evening was completely frozen. These gatherings were tedious, nothing more than a thinly veiled competition of careers and partners. But I had another reason for being there. Rebecca was distracted for the rest of the meal. As everyone started getting ready to leave, someone asked how I was getting home. I smiled. “My boyfriend is picking me up.” Rebecca’s head snapped up. “You… you have a boyfriend? You said you would only ever—” She didn’t finish the sentence. But we both knew— That I would only ever love Bradon Reid. It was true once. Now, I simply played with a strand of my hair, looking bored. “Little girls talk about forever.” I stood up to touch up my makeup. Sara leaned against the sink. “She’s the ultimate gossip. Aren’t you afraid she’ll tell Bradon?” I blended my lipstick in the mirror. “That’s exactly what I want her to do.” Bradon and I weren’t newly reunited. We had been this way for two months. And even the freshest secret loses its luster eventually. When we broke up the first time, I walked out of that house for two years. Two years later, I returned, unannounced. My mother held me, weeping, asking how I could have been so cruel. Bradon stood right behind her, staring. His eyes burned into me, and I knew then that he still wanted me. He was good at it. And I, at the time, happened to need a man. So that night, I knocked on his door and kissed him. He didn’t pull away. Gone was the hysterical girl. I wrapped my hands around his neck, my gaze submissive. “Bradon, want to do it again?” Once led to twice. And eventually, it became a silent arrangement. A secret, no-strings situation that we never formally called a ‘reunion.’ Later, he started to demand more control, even questioning who I saw. I missed the way he used to ignore me. 5 When the evening wrapped, Knox Dalton came to collect me. He opened the car door for me, waiting until I was settled before walking back around to the driver’s side. He was wearing that cocky, irritating grin of his. I snorted. “Why are you so happy? Did you find a wife?” His smile vanished. “Is it wrong for your boyfriend to be happy to see you?” He had clearly bribed someone at the table for information. This man, outwardly charming and carefree, was apparently a master manipulator in private. I had chosen him for a setup precisely because I thought he was shallow. The engine was barely running when my phone vibrated. Bradon’s message: [Where are you? I’ll come get you.] I casually texted back: [Don’t bother. I’m crashing at a friend’s place tonight.] Almost simultaneously, Sara’s text popped up: [HOLY SHIT LOOK OUTSIDE. Bradon saw you get into Knox Dalton’s car!] I whipped my head around. Where I had been standing moments before, two figures stood. Rebecca was next to Bradon, seemingly talking to him. Bradon was obscured by the shadows, his gaze fixed, dead-on, toward my car. I texted Sara: [It’s fine.] My phone immediately lit up with Bradon’s incoming messages: [Anya Wells, why are you lying to me?] [We need to talk.] [Get out of the car! Did you hear me?] The final text was laced with threat: [Don’t make me call your mother.] Knox, who had obviously seen the exchange, let a dark look flash across his eyes. He curved his lips into a wicked smile. “Sweetheart, you don’t want to introduce your current boyfriend to your ex-brother?” He’d even figured out that dynamic. “No need. Just drive.” My face was impassive. I added, “If this happens again, don’t show up.” His smile tightened, his voice turning acidic. “Fine. Protecting your ex in front of your current guy.” The car merged into the main road. I ignored any further messages. When we arrived at the boutique hotel, the door hadn’t even closed before I was pressed against it. My phone was still buzzing. I reached for it, trying to manage Knox’s kiss while glancing at the texts with one hand. [Who is that man?] [Anya, we’re talking now.] [Open the door! I know you’re in there.] Almost on cue, there was a frantic, urgent knocking on the door. We were right by the entrance, and the noise was deafeningly clear. Knox’s movements stilled. He raised an eyebrow. “I thought one man was enough for you. Why’d you invite your brother?” The knocking carried a sense of rising panic. I cupped Knox’s face. “It’s nothing. Just ignore him.” I tilted my head back and expertly slipped my tongue past his lips. “He’s just a pest.” “Yeah,” he chuckled, his arm tightening as he effortlessly lifted me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist. “You need a man like me.” He carried me deeper into the room, his strength startlingly steady. “Coming to me with your stepbrother’s marks…” He lowered his head, placing a dark, possessive kiss on the fading red on my collarbone, his voice husky. “I don’t find it shameful. I find it f-cking addictive.” I laughed softly. “Stop flirting. Just hurry up.” The man outside was eventually led away. My phone kept buzzing. I finally just turned it off. I was done. If I had known he would become this obsessive, I wouldn’t have bothered to play this game with him in the first place. 6 Bradon used to be indifferent. When my mother, Eliza, married into the Reid family, she poured all her energy into pleasing her husband and his son. I was shy and quiet. Apart from my grades, I felt like a permanent outsider. Bradon, however, was always the center of attention. Even when he was aloof, he was never alone. I thought I was discreet when my eyes followed him. Later, I realized he hadn’t missed it; he simply hadn’t cared. That was when I met Rebecca. She was always at the Reid house. The first time I saw her, she burst into the living room shouting, “I’m home!” She looked at me on the sofa, confused. “Oh? Do we have a guest?” The words were a small, soft thorn. It didn’t pierce deeply, but it never came out. Every time I saw her after that, witnessing her effortless access to my nominal home, seeing the unspoken bond between her and Bradon— That small thorn suddenly grew sharp, poking the same spot, again and again. It wasn’t lethal, but it was impossible to ignore. I tried to pretend I didn’t care. Later, Bradon and I were in a secret relationship for four years. Yet, at every family dinner, Rebecca sat beside him. She would often smile at me and say, “If I didn’t cover for you two, Uncle Alexander would have caught you already!” Even at school, everyone assumed they were a couple. I was just the girl who got close to my “brother,” quickly labeled as a home-wrecker. Bradon said, “The truth will speak for itself.” Rebecca said, “They’re just joking.” I was the only one who felt the truth was suffocating. I grew tired of hiding. I wanted to hold his hand in the sunlight. All I got was rejection. In a state of extreme insecurity, I became irrational. Rebecca became a trigger for me. The soft thorn turned into a thicket of prickles all over my body. I constantly badgered Bradon: “Why can she be next to you, and I can’t?” He finally snapped, his voice ice-cold. “Can you just stop making a scene? If you want to go public so badly, go find someone you can be public with!” I loved him to the point of self-destruction, yet I was the one who broke up with him. He was indifferent, convinced I was just being dramatic. I left home without a word, for two whole years. I spent those two years volunteering at a remote foster home. That’s where I met Knox Dalton. He was laid-back, perpetually scruffy, yet strangely popular. Whenever we went out for supplies, young women would blush and ask for his number. He would sling his arm over my shoulder, grinning cheekily. “Sorry, I have a girlfriend.” “Oh? But you don’t look… close?” He’d shrug with mock helplessness. “I messed up. I’m trying to win her back.” I froze. We weren’t a couple, yet he was publicly claiming me. In that moment, I realized the last four years of my life had been a pointless farce. Later, I returned home, having cut most ties with my past. Then my mother brought me a stack of photos of potential suitors. My finger paused on one photograph. The man in the picture was smiling, utterly disarming. My mother leaned in. “That one… he looks a little too much like a player. Maybe we should try someone else?” But I said, “He’s the one.”