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Chapter 46: Echoes Of Her
Last Updated:
2025-08-29 01:11:26
Latest chapter
A Night With My Stepbrother Chapter 49: Backlash
The air in the De’Luca Enterprises boardroom was thin, cold, and tasted of expensive coffee and quiet panic. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, not with warmth, but with a harsh, interrogative glare, illuminating the tension etched on every face around the massive, polished ebony table. Alessandro sat at its head, his posture rigid, his hands clasped on the cool surface to keep them from betraying the tremor that ran through him. He was the king at the center of a siege, his castle walls shaking. Murmurs rippled around the table, a low, discontented hum from the twelve men and three women who held the fate of his empire in their portfolios. They were sharks who had feasted on decades of prosperity, and now they smelled blood in the water. His blood. Charles Thorne, the board’s chairman and a man whose face was a roadmap of old-money disdain, cleared his throat. The murmuring ceased instantly. “Alessandro,” he began, his voice deceptively calm, a thin vene
A Night With My Stepbrother Chapter 48: A Message From The Past
A week. Seven days since the paternity test result had seared itself into his soul, rewriting his reality. Seven days of a new kind of silence—no longer just the absence of Isabel, but the deafening roar of his own guilt. The legal machinery against Jenna and the tabloids ground on, a distant, automated hum. The stock price had stabilized, a tentative ceasefire in the financial war. But inside Alessandro’s penthouse, the real battle raged. He stood in his private study, a room of dark wood and leather that smelled of old books and older money. It was his father’s study before him, a place for weighty decisions. Now, it felt like a cage for his regrets. The Genetron Institute report lay on the vast, empty desk, a single sheet of paper that held the power to condemn and redeem. He couldn’t look at it without seeing the phantom of Isabel’s face, the hurt he’d caused. “It’s mine.” The words were a mantra of truth and a lash of self-recrimination. Every lead on her location had
A Night With My Stepbrother Chapter 47: Bloodlines
Dr. Aris Hollis’ words, delivered hours ago in that same calm, clinical tone, echoed in the cavernous space. “The Wellness Center is a fortress, Alessandro. HIPAA laws are not suggestions. Without a court order or her written consent, accessing her medical records is impossible. I’m sorry.”The refusal had been a door slamming shut. The silence, Isabel’s silence, had become a physical presence, a void threatening to consume him. He had paced for hours, the polished concrete floors cool beneath his bare feet, the ghost of her scent—a faint mix of jasmine and rain—still clinging to the air, a cruel mockery.His gaze swept over the immaculate lounge, the scene of their last confrontation. The couch where she had sat, her posture defiant yet brittle. The spot on the floor where she had stood, delivering her ultimatum. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the deep grey velvet of the sofa. Logic, cold and ruthless, began to override the churning mess of his emotions. Dr. Hollis couldn’t acce
A Night With My Stepbrother Chapter 46: Echoes Of Her
Rain streaked the panoramic windows of Alessandro De Luca’s office, a week-long symphony of grey that matched the desolation within. The city lights below blurred into watery smudges, offering no anchor. He sat behind the imposing mahogany desk, a stack of meticulously prepared restructuring proposals before him – Elena Rossi’s desperate bid to salvage the company’s reputation and stock price after the scandal. The words swam before his eyes. Strategic divestment… brand realignment… philanthropic initiatives…Meaningless noise. His gaze kept drifting to the sleek, empty surface of the guest chair opposite his desk. The chair Isabel had sat in just seven days ago, burning with righteous fury and devastating truth. The echo of her final words – “I’m not waiting”– resonated louder than any boardroom demand. “Sir?” Marco’s voice was carefully neutral as he placed another file on the desk. “The finalized statement for the quarterly investor call. Elena wants your approval by morni
A Night With My Stepbrother Chapter 45: What’s Left Of Us
“You need to listen.” Isabel’s voice, raw but unwavering, hung in the charged silence of the penthouse foyer. Rain lashed the panoramic windows behind Alessandro, casting shifting grey patterns over his stunned face and her determined one. Marco stood frozen nearby, the landline receiver still crackling with the distant, furious voice of Charles Thorne. Alessandro stared at her. The girl – no, the woman– standing before him was a stranger. The pale, trembling figure he’d confronted in her father’s house was gone. In her place stood someone carved from resolve, her eyes burning with a fierce, exhausted fire. The USB drive in her hand seemed to pulse with accusation. The cacophony of the unfolding scandal – the ringing phones, the plummeting stock price, the Chairman’s tinny demands – faded into a dull roar at the edges of his consciousness. All that existed was Isabel, standing on his threshold, demanding his attention amidst the ruin she was supposed to have caused. He steppe
A Night With My Stepbrother Chapter 44: Public Fire
The insistent buzz of Marco’s phone was the first discordant note in the otherwise sterile silence of Alessandro’s penthouse office. It was dawn, the city skyline just beginning to blush with pale pink and gold, a sight Alessandro usually found grounding. Today, it felt like the prelude to an execution. “Sir,” Marco’s voice was tight, strained, cutting through the quiet like shrapnel. He stood rigidly by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at his screen, his face unnaturally pale. “You need to see this. Now.” Alessandro looked up from the financial reports he hadn’t truly been reading. The cold detachment that had been his armor since Sicily felt brittle, thin. “See what, Marco?” His voice sounded hollow, even to himself. “Another fabricated email? More ‘proof’ of Isabel’s treachery?” The name tasted like ash. He’d tried to purge it, purge her, from his mind. The flash drive sat locked in his desk drawer, a Pandora's box he refused to reopen. “Worse, sir.” Marco’s knuckles w
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