Chapter 3- My stepbrother has the same tattoo

Aria

Could he be the one I had a one-night stand with?

The thought struck me so violently that my whole body shook. My palms dampened, my stomach churned, and my heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else. Before I could untangle the mess in my head, my mom barged back into my room, her hand smacking my arm to jolt me back into reality.

“I said wear this and get ready!” she snapped, shoving a dress into my hands. “Pack up your things too. We’ll be moving right after the wedding. We’re moving to Citrar City.”

Her voice was sharp, final, like I didn’t even get a say.

I blinked at her, stunned. “Who tells their daughter about their marriage the same day?” I muttered under my breath, my throat raw from everything piling inside me.

“I’m not leaving!” My voice cracked as I tightened my grip on the dress. “I have my life here. My friends. Mason…” My chest ached just saying his name. “I can’t leave him.”

My mom’s eyes narrowed, her tone hardening. “Just get ready now!” she yelled, her patience gone.

I wanted to scream back, to beg her not to ruin what little I had left, but instead I bit down on my lip until it almost bled and forced myself into the dress. My sister and I followed her down to the hall, where guests gathered and music swirled around the wedding my mom had somehow thrown together in hours. She floated down the aisle like a queen, marrying yet another man while I stood there, clutching my phone like it was the only thing tethering me to life.

I stared at her, glittering and smiling, and wondered how she could always find love while I… I was drowning. I couldn’t even hold on to Mason. I couldn’t even make sense of what had happened last night.

My phone buzzed in my hand. Mason.

The noise of the hall was deafening, so I slipped out, desperate to hear his voice. I was so distracted I didn’t notice where I was going until I collided hard with someone.

I stumbled, my phone nearly slipping from my hand, but before I could fall, strong hands caught me by the arms.

“You’re okay,” a voice said, steady and deep.

I looked up.

A man in a fitted black suit. Sharp jawline, perfectly styled hair, his eyes dark and piercing. He looked about my age, maybe a little older, and he was… breathtaking.

For a moment, I just stared. My throat closed up, my cheeks burned, and my words tangled. “Y-Yes, I’m okay,” I stammered, too caught up in his presence.

And then I saw it.

Peeking out from under his collar, curling up the side of his neck, the tattoo.

The same one.

My blood turned to ice.

“What the heck…” The words slipped from me before I could stop them.

Panic surged through me, and I tore myself out of his grip, bolting down the corridor even as he called after me. I didn’t dare look back.

I rushed into the nearest bathroom and locked myself inside, pressing my back against the door as if the world was hunting me. My breath came in shallow, frantic gasps. I splashed water on my face, watching droplets trail down the mirror, but nothing could cool the firestorm in my chest.

What was that? No, no, no… This couldn’t be real. Why did he have that tattoo? What did it mean? Was he the one? The stranger from the club?

My phone buzzed again, vibrating against the sink.

Mason.

I swallowed hard and answered, my voice weak. “Hello?”

“Wassup, bestie,” Mason said, casual as ever, his tone easing some of the chaos in me. “I need your help.”

“What?” My voice cracked, too raw, too shaky.

“Can you imagine? Bianca’s getting married.” His voice faltered, bitter and broken.

My chest ached hearing the pain in his tone. I pressed my hand against my heart, trying to keep it steady.

“Wow,” I whispered, unsure what else to say. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“I want to attend,” he said suddenly.

“What?” My brows knitted, my mind stalling.

“Yes,” he continued. “I want to show her I’m fine without her. And I need you to go with me… as my woman.”

The words hit me like lightning. My breath caught, my throat tightened, and hiccups bubbled out of me in nervous shock.

“Are you there?” he asked, his voice softer now, waiting.

He wanted me. Me. To stand by his side.

“Yes…” I whispered. My lips curved into a shaky smile. “I’ll go.”

The line went dead, but I couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in forever, he saw me. He needed me.

But the joy clashed with the dread pressing down on me. My mom’s voice cut through, dragging me back to reality as she shoved us into a sleek black SUV, hauling us toward Citrar City, toward the unknown.

“Girls, listen up,” she chirped from the front seat, her new husband beside her. “Behave yourselves. He has two sons already, and one more is flying in. So there’ll be three boys in that house.”

She turned her sharp gaze on me. “They’re off-limits, Aria. They’re your stepbrothers now.”

“If they’re cute, I’m dating them,” my sister quipped with a smirk. “We’re not blood.”

Whack!

Mom smacked her head. “Don’t be stupid.”

But I wasn’t listening. My mind was a hurricane.

When we finally pulled up to the mansion, I froze. It was massive, stone walls, towering windows, iron gates that screamed power and money. The kind of house that made you feel small.

We stepped out, luggage in hand, when a figure emerged from the doorway.

My throat closed.

It was him.

His eyes locked on mine, steady, unblinking, pulling every ounce of breath from my lungs.

I dropped my suitcase, my hands shaking violently. My knees wobbled. My heart thrashed like it wanted to escape.

That tattoo. That damn tattoo.

He stepped closer, gravel crunching under his boots. “This is my house.”

My mouth fell open, my hands covering it as the words slammed into me.

This house. This mansion.

He wasn’t just some random guy.

He was my stepbrother.

No. No. No.

The world spun. The air thinned. I couldn’t breathe.

I had given myself to him. Recklessly. Blindly. Now fate was mocking me, chaining me to him as family.

“I don’t know why you ran when you saw me before,” he said, his voice low, almost curious. His eyes didn’t leave mine.

I couldn’t take it.

I dropped my bags, turned on my heel, and muttered under my breath, “I can’t do this.”

“Aria!” my mom’s voice rang out behind me, sharp and demanding. “Where are you going?!”

But I was already dialing.

A taxi screeched up minutes later, and I dove in without looking back. I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t breathe.

That night, I slept on the streets, curled against the cold concrete with nothing but my thoughts clawing me apart.

When morning came, my phone buzzed again.

MASON: Today’s the day. Meet me at the airport.

My heart leaped. For a moment, the nightmare faded. Mason.

I scrambled up, Bought the best outfit, something simple, clean, but beautiful enough to stand at his side. If he wanted me to make his ex jealous, I would. I’d be perfect for him.

Hours later, I stood outside the terminal, the noise of planes roaring in the distance, my pulse racing with anticipation.

A sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of me.

The tinted window slid down.

“Are you Aria Jackson?” the driver asked.

“Yes?” I answered cautiously.

The man smiled. “Mason asked me to pick you up.”

I froze. Something about the car, the voice, the way the window rolled back up, everything felt wrong.

But a voice inside whispered: You only die once. And honestly, death felt less terrifying than going back to that mansion.

I exhaled shakily and got in.

The leather seats were cold beneath me. I shifted, trying to settle, when my eyes caught on something.

A mark peeking from under his collar.

The tattoo.

The same one.

My stomach plummeted.

He glanced at me, lips curling into a faint smirk. “I’m Jim. Mason’s brother.”

My blood ran cold.

Brother?! Mason never mentioned a brother.

And that tattoo…why did he have it too?