Chapter two

I was twelve when Mom married into the Greyson family. One of Italy’s wealthiest families in Sydney.

Before that, our lives had been simple. Normal. Predictable. I never imagined living in marble halls and eating with gold-plated silverware, or waking up to ocean views from a villa that looked like it belonged in a Vogue spread.

And then came Hunter Greyson.

The family's only son. My new stepbrother.

He was two years older than me—sixteen when we met. He had the kind of beauty that made girls blush and boys jealous. Tall, lean, all sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes, like a prince from a fantasy novel. He was popular, confident, and so far out of my league it hurt.

At fourteen, I called him “brother.” He called me “sis.” But even back then, I knew the truth: my feelings for him were never sibling-like.

I wrote about him constantly in my diary—pages filled with secrets I’d never dare say aloud. Nicknames, fantasies, love letters I never intended to send. I told myself it was just a crush. It wasn’t. It was the beginning of an obsession.

To the world, we played the roles perfectly. The charming Greyson siblings. But in my heart? I was already his.

And then, on my eighteenth birthday, everything changed.

He found my diary. I don’t know how—maybe I was careless, or maybe he had been curious for a while.

I walked into the classroom that day, heart in my throat, only to see him leaning against the wall, my diary in his hands. He was reading it. Slowly. Carefully.

His eyes met mine.

“Hunter—give that back!” I ran toward him, panicked.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he grabbed my wrist—hard—and before I could speak again, his lips crushed mine.

That was my first kiss.

And it ruined me.

By the time I turned twenty, we had crossed every line.

It was a stormy night. Thunder rumbled across the sky, and rain lashed against the windows like the world was warning us.

Mom and Uncle Carter were out of town.

Hunter and I were alone.

That night, we stopped pretending.

The passion was uncontrollable. We didn’t whisper. We devoured. The storm outside was nothing compared to what happened in that room.

After that, we were hooked. Addicted.

We became two people—Hunter and Christina by day, the perfect step-siblings. But at night? We were lovers. 

He’d sneak into my room at 2 a.m., barefoot and reckless. By dawn, before anyone woke, he’d slip out like a phantom.

We shared a bed every night… and every morning, we acted like nothing happened.

I didn’t know where this was going. But I didn’t care. I would’ve followed Hunter into the fire. I was in love.

I even started dreaming about moving to the U.S.—starting over, just the two of us, far from the judging eyes and tangled lies.

But then… everything shattered.

Just a few nights ago, I went to surprise him at the club. I wanted to show up, kiss him in a dark corner, maybe steal him away for a night drive.

I never expected to hear that.

I stood near the door, hidden behind a velvet curtain. He was at a table with his friends. Laughing. Carefree. And then I heard it—her voice.

“Hunter, seriously—when are you going to drop the Christina act? You never loved her. This was all revenge, remember? For what her mom did—marrying your dad. Six years now. It’s exhausting.”

I froze. My heart stopped beating.

And then came his voice. Calm. Cruel.

“The longer the game, the sweeter the ending. She’s obsessed with me. Makes it too easy.”

My entire world cracked open.

I didn’t go in. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

I just turned around and walked out.

Straight home. Straight into silence.

I didn’t sleep that night. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how I could’ve been so blind.

All those nights. All those whispered I-love-you’s. Lies. All of it.

In the morning, his side of the bed was cold. He was gone.

I got dressed and walked downstairs, trying not to fall apart.

Mom, Carter, and a few guests were gathered at the breakfast table. The smell of fresh croissants filled the room. My stomach churned.

And there he was.

Hunter. Sitting next to a tall, stunning blonde in a designer dress. She looked like she walked straight out of a perfume ad.

He didn’t even look at me.

“Good morning, everyone,” I said, forcing a smile.

Mom turned to me. “Chris, come meet Hunter’s girlfriend. This is Alina.”

Girlfriend.

My lungs almost gave out.

Alina stood and wrapped me in a hug like we were sorority sisters. “Oh my God, you must be Christina! Hunter’s sister, right?”

I glanced at him. His face was stone.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling with every ounce of venom I could summon. “I’m his sister.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched.

“Chris, go grab the cake from the oven,” Mom said cheerfully. “Hunter told me Alina was coming, so I baked one for her.”

I nodded and walked to the kitchen.

I could feel the walls closing in. The heat of the oven, the sting behind my eyes, the ache in my chest.

I opened the oven door, pulled out the cake.

And suddenly—arms.

Strong. Familiar. Wrapping around my waist like chains.

“Hunter—!”

He buried his face in my neck, lips hot against my skin.

I gasped. 

“You really think I could touch her the way I touched you?”

His hands tightened. My body trembled.

“Let go of me,” I whispered.

“I can’t,” he growled. “And you don’t want me to.”

And the worst part?

He was right.