Semua Bab Claimed By My Ex’s Stepbrother: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Tessa woke up first. The room was still grey with early light. She stirred. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes swollen and hot from hours of crying she’d never admit to.For a moment, she forgot where she was.Then she turned — and saw him.Roman lay beside her, half-turned toward her, his arm still stretched where he’d been holding her. His breathing was slow, heavy, exhausted in a way she’d only ever seen in men who’d given too much of themselves for too long.His hair was messy, his face drawn, dark circles sitting heavy under his eyes.He looked worn down.He looked like he’d fought the whole world alone.Guilt punched her straight in the stomach.He had carried his dying aunt through a storm last night.He needed her arms, her voice, her anything.Instead, she had been on a dining table with Grayson’s tongue inside her.A sob crawled up her throat. She swallowed it and slipped out of bed before it could escape.Tessa dressed quickly — soft dress, matching robe, perfume dabbed gently

Tessa’s hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone. She pressed call before she could talk herself out of it.Grayson picked up on the first ring.“Wow,” he said casually. “Didn’t think I’d get the honour of a phone call.”“What kind of human being are you?” Her voice cracked like ice. “You recorded me, you sick bastard.”“Whoa. That’s not a polite way to greet someone, Tess.” Grsyson drawled.“You filmed me without my consent. While I—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “You’re disgusting.”“First,” Grayson said, calm as poison, “I didn’t record anything. The cameras in the Thorne mansion run 24/7. Mother just happened to pull the footage. Second, you got my message. Boathouse. 7 p.m.”“You’re sick and you’re a liar.” She snapped.“Tessa,” he sighed, “you really think I need to manipulate cameras to ruin Roman? That boy implodes all on his own.”Her hand clenched.“You sent me the video to threaten me,” she snapped. “That means intent. That means you planned this.”“Call it… o

The air was cold and smelled of oil and luxurious cars.Roman stopped two feet from his car, his brows raised.Klara leaned against the driver's door like she belonged there, arms crossed, red coat bright against the grey Sedan.Her lips curled into something that almost looked like a smile. Roman didn’t speak. He just looked at her with the kind of exhaustion that had turned into annoyance.Klara’s smile faltered.“What the hell are you doing here, Klara?” Roman asked, finally. She didn’t answer at first, just kept her head down on the concrete as if it wanted to swallow her.“I’m not going to repeat myself.” He said. “Stay here if you want.”Klara reached for the driver's side handle as if she were going to open it for him.But Roman moved to push past her.Her hand shot out and closed around his forearm.“Please, Roman, stop—”His gaze dropped to where her fingers curled against his arm.Her grip loosened as realization dawned — whatever she was about to say, touching him wasn’t

Roman put the phone down slowly.He didn’t move for several seconds, he just stood there as the night wind went cool against his bare skin, his eyes scanning everything — the neighboring rooftops. Dark windows. Balconies. There was nothing. No movement. No figures. No signs.And somehow… that made it worse.He turned back toward the daybed.Tessa sat upright now. Her eyes were locked on his face.She already knew something was wrong.“Roman, please answer me. What is it?” she asked quietly.Roman stopped two steps away from her.For half a second, he considered telling her the truth.But then he looked at her — pale, shaken, pregnant, already holding far too much hurt inside her — and he swallowed the words.“Nothing,” he said. “Wrong number.”She didn’t believe him, he could tell by the way her brows pinched — but she didn’t challenge it.“Come on, let’s go in,” he said gently. “It’s cold up here.”He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders himself, shielding her with his body as

Tessa paced the living room of the mansion, her nails digging into the roof of her mouth as Roman’s image replayed on a steady loop.The shock on his face when the bullet hit him.The way his eyes went blank.The blood—everywhere.A knock at the door jolted her back into the present.She sucked in a sharp breath, smoothed down her dress, and ran shaky fingers through her damp hair—only half-dried from the shower.Then she crossed the room in quick strides and yanked the door open.Grayson stood there.Dark grey joggers hung low on his hips, a black T-shirt clinging to his chest, the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up.His blond hair was perfectly slicked back—except for a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead.Tessa sucked in a breath despite herself.“I thought you said you never wanted to see me again,” he said, one brow lifting.She didn’t answer. She turned and walked back inside.“Am I supposed to come in?” he called cautiously.“Yes.”Grayson stepped over the th