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THE EDGE OF THE FRAME

作者: Lizzy Aik
last update 公開日: 2026-11-04 23:17:31

​Luca’s interview lasted two hours and fourteen minutes.

​When he finally came out of Conference Three, he didn't head back to his office, and he didn't stop by my desk. He walked straight past the rows of quiet cubicles, looking at nobody, his coat already over his arm. The only sign that he was anything less than stone was the tight, white line of his knuckles as he held his briefcase.

​My phone buzzed two seconds later.

​Luca: Meet me in the garage in five minutes.

​I picked up my bag, t
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  • I AM MY STEPBROTHER'S OBSESSION    THE EMPTY CLOSET

    NYRA'S POV The morning alarm didn't ring. Neither of us needed it. By six o'clock, the sky over the city was a dirty shade of bruise-purple, heavy with rain that hadn't let up all night. The apartment was freezing. The central heating had clicked off hours ago, leaving a damp chill clinging to the tall glass windows, but neither Luca nor I moved to adjust the thermostat. I was already awake, sitting on my side of the mattress, dressed in a simple grey turtleneck and black trousers. No makeup, no jewelry, not even the silver watch Luca had bought me for my birthday last year. My skin looked pale in the dim light, but my posture was straight, rigid, and completely still. Luca moved around the bedroom like a storm contained inside a tight space. He threw on his dark charcoal suit, his broad shoulders tensing as he shoved his arms into the sleeves. He dragged a comb through his damp hair, his hands shaking just enough for me to catch the subtle tremor in the mirror’s reflection. Eve

  • I AM MY STEPBROTHER'S OBSESSION    THE CALM BEFORE

    NYRA'S POV I didn't scream. I didn't cry either. After hearing what Luca said through that cracked door, a strange, cold numbness took over my entire body. The tears just completely dried up in my eyes. I backed into the master bedroom step by slow step, shut the door without making a sound, and walked over to the bed. I sat down on the edge of the mattress and stared straight ahead at the dark, blank television screen on the wall. My hands were ice-cold, resting flat in my lap. I didn't tremble. I didn't throw anything. I didn't smash a glass against the wall. I just sat there in the dim gray light filtering through the heavy curtains, feeling like a thick, unbreakable sheet of ice had settled over my heart. A few minutes later, the study door finally clicked open. Luca’s heavy footsteps moved down the long hallway, slow and dragging like he was carrying lead weights in his shoes. He walked into the master bedroom, looking like a man who had just survived a brutal, bloody stree

  • I AM MY STEPBROTHER'S OBSESSION    THE COST OF A DINNER

    NYRA'S POV By four in the afternoon, the silence inside the apartment was so thick it felt like heavy, suffocating glass. The rain had stopped making noise against the tall glass windows, settling into a dull, gray drizzle that turned the city outside into a blurred ghost town. I hadn't turned on the lights. I was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, staring at the dark screen of my broken phone resting on the rug, my stomach twisting in sharp, uneasy knots that had been building since mid-morning. I tried to ignore the physical nausea, telling myself it was just the adrenaline, the lack of food, and the sheer terror of the internet tearing my name to shreds. I needed to move. I needed to do something other than sit in the dark while the world called me a dirty, unfaithful step-sister who had ruined two families for a corporate paycheck. I stood up, resting a hand against the wall until the quick wave of dizziness passed, and walked down the long hallway toward Luca’s private s

  • I AM MY STEPBROTHER'S OBSESSION    THE PUBLIC TRIAL

    Monday morning arrived like an execution date.The board had called an emergency meeting for nine o'clock, but they didn't ask me to attend. They explicitly told Luca that my presence on the floor would create a "security hazard and a public distraction." By eight a.m., I was officially placed on mandatory, unpaid administrative leave pending the final outcome of the ethics board review.Translation: Stay hidden in your hole so the firm doesn't have to look at you.The headlines over the weekend hadn't died down...they had morphed into a complete media frenzy. Because I was still legally married to Richard, the press had turned the story into a feeding frenzy. “The Adulterous Step-Sister.” “The Executive, The Wife, and The Step-Brother.” They framed me not just as a corporate schemer, but as an immoral, unfaithful woman playing house with her own step-brother while her marriage fell apart.Luca left the apartment at eight. He had barely slept a full hour. His face was gray, his eyes b

  • I AM MY STEPBROTHER'S OBSESSION    THE HEADLINE

    The leak didn't happen as a slow leak. It hit like a truck at seven-fifteen on a Friday morning. I was standing at the kitchen counter waiting for the water to boil when my phone started vibrating against the quartz. It wasn't a call. It was a wave of text notifications, fast and relentless, popping up on the screen so quickly the glass seemed to buzz like a hive of hornets. Clara: Don't open social media. Clara: Nyra, do not look at your phone. Clara: Stay inside your apartment. I’m serious. My hand was already moving before my brain could stop it. I opened the browser. It was on the front page of The Daily Ledger’s business and entertainment gossip section. The main headline was written in massive, bold, blood-red text that filled the entire top half of the screen: "COLEBRIDGE CAPITAL’S INCEST SECRETS: SENIOR PARTNER LUCA MORETTI BEDS HIS OWN STEP-SISTER IN CORPORATE SUITE SCANDAL." Beneath the headline was a blurry, high-resolution photo...the exact photo Richard had taken.

  • I AM MY STEPBROTHER'S OBSESSION    THE KITCHEN FLOOR

    NYRA'S POV The front door didn't just open; it felt pushed, as if the hallway air itself had been waiting to flood the room with cold pressure. Mum walked in wearing her sharp slate coat, wet from the rain, holding her bag against her side like armor. Her hair was pulled back tightly, showing every line of tension around her eyes...lines that had deepened over the last forty-eight hours until she looked ten years older. She didn't take off her shoes. She stood on the hardwood just past the entry mat, her eyes sweeping the hallway, the kitchen, and finally settling on the closed study door down the hall. “He’s in there?” she asked. Her voice was low, strained, stripped of any maternal warmth. “Yes,” I said, locking the deadbolt behind her. “Keep your voice down.” “Keep my voice down,” she repeated, a bitter, breathless laugh catching in her throat. “That’s what you’re worried about, Nyra? That he hears me?” She pulled off her gloves with sharp, jerking motions and shoved them in

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