6-One Hole After Another

Lavender:

I fell asleep dreaming about the next time I’d exchange emails with Eston–the famous model I had a crush on. They were mostly about work, but sometimes he would flirt a little, and that would be enough for me to have dreams about him for weeks afterward.

But then, my dreams were interrupted by the sunlight streaming through the window with no curtains. I covered my eyes and shifted in bed until I realized where I was.

I woke up in a bad mood, recalling the events of the night and feeling a deep sense of dread.

The bathroom in the attic was smaller than a storage closet, but I liked having a bathroom in my room. There was no warm water in the shower, so I had to dance under the cold water miserably.

I had thrifted a black tie-shoulder smock floral white midi dress that fit my body perfectly. It was something I frequently did—visiting a thrift store whenever I saved enough money. I matched it with a black cardigan sweater, a tote bag, and beige suede ankle-strap pumps.

I braided my hair loosely, letting strands fall freely over my shoulders and face, with my wispy bangs over my forehead.

Once ready, I took a deep breath before leaving the attic.

The manor was huge, with many wings connected to the main house by open corridor passages. The towering walls made one feel incredibly small.

I reached the dining room, which had glass walls all around, and the first person I greeted was my mother. She had fully embraced this new life, guiding the maids in preparing and serving breakfast.

“Mom, I’m sorry for last night,” I said, but she acted like she wasn’t listening. The maids exchanged glances and then looked between us, trying to understand the tension between mother and daughter.

“Hmm,” was all my mother said as she continued pointing at the plates for the maids. The amount of food being served could feed all of Isola Vira—The island in italy.

“Are you still upset with me?” I reached toward her but kept my distance because she hated my scent.

“Just go see if your sisters are awake. Help them with their clothes and makeup,” she waved her hand to dismiss me. Every time she showed care for Sabrina and Normani, I felt jealous.

I wanted her to look at me one day and love me the same way she loved her other daughters.

I gave her a nod and forced myself to move after being told where my stepsisters’ rooms were. They had been given a separate wing of the manor—the one with five bedrooms and a large living room. It was all on the first floor. The second floor had a long hallway and a beautiful terrace.

They were truly living like princesses now. I wondered if my mother even cared that I had been tossed into the attic. I knew the people of Isola Vira hated illegitimate children, but how was it my fault?

I had all this running through my head when I passed the room from the night before. I stopped dead in my tracks, turning my head to stare at the gold plate that read "Conference Room."

In this very room, Nikon had made me kill someone.

I closed my eyes and convinced myself once again that I didn’t kill anyone. It was a mercy kill. That was different, right?

“Dad has lost his mind.”

I was snapped back to reality when I heard a growl from inside the room. It wasn’t Nikon’s. The voice sounded familiar, but the harshness of it threw me off.

“Lady Sumi has been very helpful. She has been donating blood to my girlfriend for some time now. I can no longer go against Dad’s decision.” Nikon seemed very grateful for the blood transfusions.

Well, he had no clue that the blood wasn’t donated by my mother, but by me—the girl he had scarred with his actions last night. But my focus stayed on the other guy, who seemed much more hostile.

"You have your reason to accept that woman and her daughters into your life, but I have none. I could never forget that this place belonged to my mother. No one will ever be able to replace her." His voice thundered, steady and sharp, never pausing or breaking.

“And as for the bastard one—do we have to share a roof with her?” He made it seem like I had cooties. I leaned in closer, trying to decipher his final conclusion.

“She will stay away from us, don’t worry,” Nikon reassured him. At this point, I knew I was listening to my two stepbrothers talk.

“What if she goes around telling her friends or others about us?” the brother asked, and my body filled with goosebumps.

Why were they so fixated on me being a problem for knowing their identity?

“Then one bullet to the head. I’ll do it myself, no questions asked.”

My heart sank in my chest at how coldly Nikon made that statement. And it showed—he would do it without a shred of fear, without ever worrying about being convicted for my murder.

Murder was just another meal to him—something he’d consume without a second thought.

“Hmm, I’ll keep her grave ready in that case.” the other one didn’t seem to carry any empathy either.

Hearing them talk about me like that, planning my demise so casually, made me lose my footing. I stepped back to run away—only to bump into someone’s chest.

And I knew I had fucked up.

I didn’t even turn around out of fear. But he leaned into my ear and whispered, "Careful, little sis. Someone might think you enjoy being caught."

I jumped and spun around, knocking my foot against the door as I faced the stepbrother who had caught me.

He had piercing emerald-green eyes framed by thick lashes, his dark brows furrowed slightly as he studied me. His jet-black hair was messy, strands falling over his forehead and into his eyes as he blinked them away.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Didn’t get an invite to the conversation?" His voice was deep, velvety, and laced with amusement, each word drawn out like he was savoring my reaction.

I kept stepping back, my breath shallow, my heart pounding. I was ready to press myself against the door—until it was no longer closed.

A shiver ran down my spine.

"Brother! I caught our little sister spying on you two," the one who had just caught me drawled, his smirk widening as his gaze flicked back to me.

My stomach twisted. I spun around, desperate to explain to Nikon, to lie, to escape—but the moment my eyes landed on who the other stepbrother inside the room with Nikon was, the words died in my throat.

I froze.

No.

The stepbrother I hadn’t met yet—-was him.

The man whose posters I hid under my bed. My secret, impossible, untouchable crush.

And if anyone found out? I’d be punished.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

Because the golden boy of the industry—the man the world adored—was standing shoulder to shoulder with Nikon.

It was Easton V, and he was not a kind or innocent celebrity. He was the brother of the mafia boss and my stepbrother now.