LOGINHe was my first love. My biggest regret. And now? He's my stepbrother. Five years ago, Cade Blackwood James disappeared after one perfect night that changed everything. Now he's back, more dangerous than ever, and living under the same roof. Our parents just got married. They think we're strangers. They're wrong. Every rule says we should stay away. Every touch says we can't. And when he backs me against the wall and whispers, "You've always been mine," I know we're both going to hell. But first? We're going to burn. He was my first. He'll be my last. Even if it destroys us both. Forbidden. Explosive. Unforgettable.
View MoreScarlet POV:
It was already 10 p.m., and Henry had still not gotten back from work, causing me to worry. I tried to call him several times, but he wasn’t picking up his calls, which made me very worried. He never took this long to pick up my calls, and whenever he had to stay out late, he would always inform me beforehand. I’m not one to overthink, but for some reason, I had a bad feeling that something wasn’t right, and it made me restless. I made up my mind to head to his office. After driving for about half an hour, my black sedan car finally came to a halt in front of my husband’s company.
I walked into the company and noticed that there weren’t that many people around, but I had expected it since it was already past 10 p.m., and most of the employees would have gone home by this time, except the security guards.
I arrived in front of his office and slowly turned the doorknob, just in case Henry was busy in his office and didn’t want to be interrupted.
“Ahh. Harder, baby. Keep pounding me right there!” I heard it as soon as I turned the door open halfway.
I froze on the spot, not wanting to believe that what I was hearing was real. I sharply inhaled and exhaled, pushing the door open further so that I could confirm whether or not I was really just hearing things or if what I thought was happening was happening.
I finally gathered the courage to push the door open completely, and my eyes grew ten times wider when I was met with the familiar faces of both my husband and my younger sister, having sex on his office table. They didn’t even notice that I had walked in on them because they were too engrossed in having sex and moaning like two crazed people.
“Henry, Emily,” I managed to call out.
Henry and Emily halted and turned their heads when they noticed someone had walked in on them. Henry had a surprised look on his face, as he wasn’t expecting me to suddenly show up, but as for Emily, she had a nonchalant look on her face, almost as though she had been waiting for me to finally find out.
“Scarlet,” Henry stuttered, pulling himself out of Emily, who let out a soft moan.
“What’s going on here? What are you and my sister doing in your damn office?” I asked, saying the first words that came to mind.
“I…I don’t know what to tell you, but I hope you understand,” Henry responded, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion.
“W…what did you just say?” I asked, hoping I heard wrong. I was trying not to stutter, but I was too furious to help myself.
“Exactly what you heard. I know you’re hurt right now, but this is something that you were bound to find out about sooner or later. It’s high time you know that Henry and I love each other, and we hope you’ll understand,” Emily chimed in, not bothering to pretend to be sympathetic towards me, her sister.
I wanted to say something, but nothing was coming to mind, and I just stood there, replaying Emily’s words over and over again in my head.
“Let me do the talking, babe,” Henry whispered to her.
“What exactly do you want to say to me? What explanation can you give me for something so obvious?” I questioned, raising my voice a little more than I intended to.
“I know nothing I say will make you feel any better, but I need to be honest with you. Our marriage wasn’t supposed to happen, and you know it. I forced myself into this marriage even though I loved someone else—your sister. We’ve been together for a while now,” he confessed, his words like a dagger to my heart.
The urge to cry overwhelmed me, but I fought back the tears. “So, you’re telling me that all this time we’ve been married, you and my sister have been together behind my back? Is that it?” I asked, my voice shaking with emotion.
“It’s the truth. As painful as it is, your marriage with me was never real. My heart has always been with Emily. I hope you can understand that,” he replied, his words like a final blow.
“I hope you two rot in hell,” I muttered shakily before turning to leave. But Henry’s last words made me pause briefly.
“I hope you find your happiness,” he said, a feeble attempt at consolation. Enraged, I ripped off one of my heels and hurled it at him with all my strength.
“Damn you!” I screamed furiously, storming out of the office and slamming the door behind me. With only one heel on my foot, I walked back to my car and let out the tears I had been holding.
***
Three Months Later…
“I am at peace, I’m happy, I’m alive. I’m… I’m…” I paused.
“You’re what, Scarlet? Keep going,” Isabella, my close friend and therapist, encouraged. We’d been in her office for over half an hour, and I couldn’t seem to finish that sentence past “I’m alive.”
Therapy had become a lifeline for me in the last few weeks since my divorce from Henry was finalized. Isabella was the only person I could confide in.
“I get what you’re trying to achieve, but I can’t fake positivity right now,” I admitted honestly, and she sighed.
“Can you tell me exactly what comes to mind when you think of your sister?” she asked, her gaze piercing.
“I hate her,” I replied after a few moments of contemplation.
“Care to explain why?” she inquired, and I scowled.
“Why should that even be a question? I hate her because she betrayed me by sleeping with my husband,” I retorted.
Bella sighed. “I need you to be very honest with me, Scarlet. Do you only hate her for the affair and betrayal, or is there something deeper fueling your anger?”
“I don’t think any other reasons matter. It’s all because of what she did with my husband,” I snapped, not wanting to delve into unnecessary details.
“Let me ask you this, and be honest. Before the affair, has your sister ever done anything that made you almost hate her?” Isabella probed.
I sighed. “We’re sisters. Of course, she did things that upset me, but I never hated her for it. We fought like siblings do,” I replied.
“That wasn’t the answer to my question. Has there been a time when you truly resented or almost hated your sister for something she said or did to you?” She pressed, and I hesitated.
“Emily and I grew up together. Two years after my mother died, my dad suddenly brought her mother into our lives. They got married, and she was born a few months later. We did everything together, but as we grew up, things changed. We stopped talking as much, and her attitude toward me shifted. She made me feel like I was to blame for my mom’s death and said hurtful things about my appearance. I chose to ignore it because I loved her,” I admitted, my voice wavering.
“Okay, I hear you. There’s something I found out today, and I want to share it with you before you hear it elsewhere. It might be a shock, so stay calm,” Isabella said, leaving me bewildered.
“What are you talking about? What’s this news?” I asked, eager to know.
“You’ve been off social media, right?” she inquired.
“Yes, I deactivated my accounts, but what does that have to do with anything?” I replied.
“Take a look at this,” she handed me her phone, and I glanced at the screen. The first thing I saw was a picture of Henry and Emily.
‘Billionaire and business mogul, Henry Jones, set to wed Emily Taylor this Saturday!’
A surge of anger, disappointment, and embarrassment washed over me. Tears welled up, but I also felt an overwhelming desire to confront them.
“Can you believe this? It’s only been a month since my divorce from that bastard, and they’re already getting married,” I exclaimed, my voice trembling and my eyes fixed on their picture.
“I understand you’re upset, but please try to calm down,” she advised.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Bella!” I snapped, my anger misplaced. “Do you realize how painful it is that they didn’t even consider me once and act like I never existed?” I said, my voice filled with pain.
Isabella sighed.
“So what will you do? Your anger is justified, but will it change anything?” she asked, and I chuckled bitterly.
“I won’t let them get away with this betrayal. I won’t sit quietly while they have their happily ever after,” I vowed, my determination unwavering. “Thank you for trying to help, Bella, but my anger and pain won’t subside until I see Emily and Henry pay for making me a fool,” I declared, getting up to leave, but she stopped me.
“Don’t let them have so much power over you,” she urged.
“They already do, but not for long,” I replied, gently removing her hand and leaving her office.
Scarlett’s POVThe word baby.Not the pregnancy. Not the situation. Not the complication. My baby.Something cracked open in my chest, something that had been sealed shut since the sonographer turned the screen and said two, something that had been managing the information from a careful distance, maintaining the professional neutrality of a person who had not yet decided what to feel about any of this.It cracked open, and what came through was not grief, not fear, not the enormous complicated weight of everything this meant and everything it would cost.What came through was something simpler.Relief.Pure and unqualified and slightly terrifying in its simplicity. The relief of a person who has been carrying something alone and has just been told they don't have to anymore. The relief of hearing a voice and knowing that the voice meant it, that work can wait, was not a performance of priority but the actual statement of one, that 'my baby needs me' was the complete sentence, and the
Scarlett’s POVI don't remember exactly how I got out of the sonographer's room.I remember the ceiling. The way it moved above me as I sat up on the table too fast, the room tilting slightly, the gel still cold on my stomach and the image still on the screen, those two small, unmistakable flickers of white against black, two heartbeats doing their relentless, indifferent, extraordinary work. I remember the sonographer's voice continuing behind me, warm and professional, explaining things I could not hear over the sound of my own blood in my ears.I remember pulling my shirt down.I remember the door.And then I was in the corridor, and then I was through the waiting room, and I caught the edge of my mother's expression as I passed her, the way she rose from her chair with her hand already reaching for her bag, already moving, already following before she had any information about why, because that was who she was, a woman whose body responded to her daughter before her mind had finis
Cade’s POVHis expression was the most honest it had been since I walked through his door, stripped of the warmth and the cigar-and-whisky ease, stripped of the elaborate performance of a man in control of every variable. What was underneath was something older and more elemental, the expression of someone who has just understood that the room they thought they owned has other people in it."You son of a bitch," he said.Quietly. With the specific, concentrated fury of someone who is too intelligent to let it become something louder, because louder would be the loss, and he was not prepared to lose in front of the five men at the table.I reached into my jacket pocket and put on my sunglasses."Wrong," I said. "I am the son of James Blackwood, leader and heir to the Blackwood syndicate."I picked up my design folder from the chair where I had set it when I sat down, what felt like several lifetimes ago, before I understood what kind of room this was and what kind of meeting I had been
Cade’s POV"You have nothing to worry about." The General's voice was smooth and reassuring in the specific, practised way of someone who has given this particular reassurance before, who has calibrated it through repetition into something that sounds credible from certain distances. "Just do what I ask. I'll handle the back end.""I am sorry, sir." I held his gaze. "I cannot."The sound was soft.A single mechanical click, small and precise, the kind of sound that is quiet enough that it should not command a room and yet does, every time, without exception, because the body recognises it below the level of conscious thought, some deep animal awareness that responds to that specific sound with an immediacy that bypasses everything else.I turned.Biggy had his gun out.It was pointed at me with the casual, practised ease of someone for whom this was not a remarkable moment, just a transition from one phase of a conversation to the next, the next phase being the one where the conversat






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