Chapter 04

Chapter 04-Evelyn

Steam clouded the bathroom mirror as I stood under the rush of water, head tilted back, letting it pour down my face and shoulders. Last night had been…good. Paul had been gentle, the way he always tried to be, and I gave myself to him, let myself belong to him like I always did. Still, as the water ran over me now, another picture pressed in where it didn’t belong.

His cologne. His nearness. The way his hand had had caught me, steady, but not letting go fast enough.

Adrian.

My chest tightened, and I pressed my palms flat against the tile as if that could shove the thought out of me.

Stop it, Evelyn. He’s your husband’s brother. Stepbrother, but still—Paul’s blood in a way. You love Paul. You chose him. You belong here. I told myself each word, like reciting a line I didn’t fully believe.

But my body refused to listen. The memory of Adrian’s scent clung too strong, darker than soap, heavier than steam. And a traitorous part of me wondered—what if he hadn’t stopped? What if those eyes had stayed locked on me while his hand moved lower?

“No,” I said aloud, scrubbing hard at my skin until it stung. “No. That’s not me. That won’t be me.”

When I finally stepped out and wrapped the towel tight around myself, I forced my face into calm. Compoded look. Paul was my husband, and I would keep things exactly that way.

He was already awake when I entered the bedroom, sitting stiff on the edge of the mattress, his tablet glowing in his hands. His face strained with stress.

“Morning,” I said lightly.

“Mm.” His answer was clipped, without warmth.

I slipped into my robe and moved closer. “Something wrong?”

He dropped the tablet on the bed, and my eyes fell on the screen. Headlines blared across it: The Billionaire Step-brothers—Hartwell vs. Blackthorne. A photo from last night froze mid-frame, Adrian holding a glass high in toast while Paul and I stood beside him in the light, caught too still, too uncomfortable.

Paul cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “It’s everywhere. It's trending. Now people think I’m tied to him. Or worse—that I’ve been feeding off him all this time.”

I sat down carefully, trying to soothe him. “Paul, maybe it’s not that bad. More attention could mean more people noticing your work. Even if it’s curiosity at first—”

He snapped his head toward me, eyes flashing. “You think I need Adrian to get clients? You think Hartwell Constructions wasn’t already successful before he dragged me into his circus?”

“That’s not what I said.” I replied quickly, lifting my hands. “I only thought—”

“Thought what?” He barked out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve worked to separate myself from him? From that family name? People already measure me against him like it’s some race I never signed up for. The last thing I need is this—this mess, making me look like I’m hanging on his success.”

It's not like I knew anything about you both. I thought.

I bit down the words forming on my tongue, because I knew his pride always unyielding, sharp as steel.

“Paul,” I tried once more, softer, “all I meant was that sometimes exposure can work in your favor. If people—”

“I don’t want exposure with him,” he cut in, voice like a blade. “Not as a partner. Not as competition. Nothing. Hartwell Constructions exists because I built it. My hands. My years. Not his. Not anyone’s!”

The certainty in his tone left no space for argument.

So I just nodded faintly, smoothing the sleeve of my robe. “Alright then. Forget I said anything. I’ll be heading out with Clara today, she’s been begging me to come.”

That made him pause. His gaze dragged to me, really looking this time, his eyes dark and possessive.

“Don’t wander off too long, mi amor.” he said at last, his hand brushing over my thigh. It was gentle, almost tender, but the weight behind it pressed harder than it should.

The words wrapped tighter around me than his touch. They should have sounded protective, loving even. But there was something else hidden in them, something that made my chest ache.

I forced a small smile, pretending to take it as care. “Of course. I won’t.”

He seemed satisfied with that, already turning back to his screen, already elsewhere. Like I was another detail in his life he needed to smooth out.

I grabbed my purse, slinging it over my shoulder as I left the room. But his words clung to me like smoke.

Don’t wander off.

And underneath them, like a shadow I couldn’t shake, another whisper followed.

What if I already have?