All Chapters of Step Brother's Deadly Obsession : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Naomi’s POV; The first time I held a gun, I thought it would make me feel smaller. Cassian had argued against it for days. “Firearms aren’t for you,” he had said, his voice flat as metal. “They make people do things they can’t take back.” He pictured me fragile and broken and thought he was protecting me by keeping me ignorant. But ignorance had been how they had traded me like an object with no value. Knowledge of any kind felt like the real way out. So I asked again. And again. Until his jaw loosened and his patience thinned into a reluctant permission. “If you want to learn, you’ll do it my way,” he said finally, and when he said it his voice left no room for bargaining. “Professional instruction. No secrets.” We drove out of the city before dawn. The road cut through early gray like a blade. I watched buildings shrink behind us, the world I’d known growing smaller and smaller until it was only the car’s hum and the leather seat under me. Cassian’s hand rested against

Naomi’s POV The rain had come down all afternoon, making the city smell like iron. By evening the mansion was wrapped in silence, the kind of silence that always made me feel like something was happening just out of sight. Mara had taken the staff downstairs for a briefing. Cassian had gone to his office. I sat on the edge of the bed with my pistol beside me, listening to the rain strike the windows and thinking of the white rose someone had left on the doorstep the night before. I told myself not to go looking for him. I told myself not to feed the doubt that had been coiling tighter in my chest since the day I found the ledger. But the walls felt closer tonight. And his absence felt like an echo. So I slipped into the hallway. The house was a labyrinth of marble and shadow, each corridor dimmed for night. The security cameras blinked their red dots at me as I passed. My footsteps made no sound on the carpet. I followed the faint glow beneath Cassian’s study door, the low ru

I couldn't sleep. The darkness that eluded my room was scary enough to chase out sleep from my eyes. My thoughts went back to Beatrice, I haven't looked into the letter yet. I didn't want to get myself worried again, but I wanted to know the content of the letter, that might help me break free. She already knew that I was supposed to be in the easy wing. I don't know how she knew about it, Cassian didn't even tellara where I was supposed to be. I knew something was up when she offered me tea, I would have decline but I feared that it might make me childish in case she wanted to make peace. I wasn't one to keep malice, but I always made sure that I stayed very far away from people who despised me and made it very obvious. I sat up on the bed when I heard footsteps. I first thought it might be Cassian but he would have entered my room if he needed to tell me something. The person kept walking around my door as if telling me to come out of my room, I tucked the pistol into my sl

Cassian's Pov; I got to the warehouse and he was the first to run to me, his loyalty and humility made me doubt what I heard. Marcus has been working for me for over three years, he made sure that everything kept at the warehouse was always secured. He knew how to handle matters without seeing from me, he was one of the men that I trusted a little bit. We met back in the days when I went on a mission to clear an entire family because of their crimes. They had embezzled funds that belonged to the top tiers. Marcus begged and pleaded that he would do anything if I spared him. At first I saw it as betrayal, his family was getting killed and yet he pleaded to be exempted, but later I was informed that he was a servant that worked for the family. I let him off the hook and tested his will, putting him in charge of a lot of money. The money came back safe including the goods, he could have ran away with the money, he had connections to keep himself secured till I found him. But he d

Beatrice’s POV The house slept in uneasy silence. Not the kind of silence that comes from peace, but the strained quiet of a place holding its breath. To the others, it was nothing. To me, it was a stage waiting for its cue. I sat at the kitchen table, apron folded neatly across my lap, my hands clean. I had scrubbed the same pan twice already, not because it needed it, but because repetition steadied me. People thought I was just the housekeeper, the young woman who clattered dishes and wiped fingerprints from polished wood. They never understood the patience it takes to keep a house. Or to dismantle one. The disposable phone was in my pocket, light as a feather, heavy as a stone. I had bought it from a boy at the docks weeks ago, paid in cash that had passed through too many hands to be traced. No contacts saved. No messages stored. Only three numbers ever called, and I could recite them in my sleep. I waited until the clock struck midnight. Then I rose, smoothed my apr