All Chapters of My Stepbrother My Ruin: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The plan came together over wine and bread.Francesca spread a map across the kitchen table. Her finger traced the road to Eric's villa outside Milan. "He has security. Cameras. Men at the gates. Inside, a private system. But there's a gap." She tapped a spot near the back wall. "The garden. Old entrance. Used to be for staff. He doesn't know about it."Dawson studied the map. "How do you know?""Because I helped build it. Forty years ago. For his mother." Francesca's face was still. "She was my friend. She told me everything. Including where she would hide when he came home drunk."Brianna looked at the older woman. "You've been waiting for this."Francesca met her eyes. "I've been waiting for someone brave enough to use it."They left at midnight.Dawson drove. Brianna sat beside him, her hands wrapped in fresh bandages, her heart pounding. The roads were empty. The moon was hidden behind clouds.Francesca's instructions played in her head. The gap in the wall. The door that didn't

The note was still in her hand when they heard it.A sound in the distance. Low at first, then growing. Sirens.Dawson moved to the window. He looked down at the driveway, the gates, the road beyond."Police."Brianna's blood went cold. "Eric called them.""Or my father." He turned. "Either way, we can't be here."He grabbed her hand. They ran.The stairs were fast, their footsteps echoing off the walls. The foyer was still dark. The front door was still open. Dawson pulled her toward the back of the house, toward the kitchen, toward the garden.The sirens were closer now. She could see flashing lights through the trees."The wall," he said. "The back gate."They ran through the garden, past the fountain, past the roses. The gate was old, rusted, hidden behind overgrown bushes. Dawson pushed it open.An alley. A street. A car parked at the curb. Not theirs. Someone else's.Dawson broke the window. Unlocked the door. Pulled her inside.The engine roared to life.They drove fast, weavin

The private jet lifted off from Milan as the sun began to set.Brianna sat by the window, watching the city shrink beneath them. The lights were just starting to come on, small and yellow, scattered across the darkening landscape. The folder was on the seat beside her. The full list. The evidence. The keys to destroying everything Eric had built.Dawson sat across the aisle. His laptop was open. His fingers moved across the keyboard. His face was blank.He had not spoken since they left the banker's office.She had tried. In the car. On the way to the airport. She had asked about the flight, about the farmhouse, about what came next. He had answered in monosyllables, his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel. He had not looked at her.Now they were in the air, and he was still not looking.The flight attendant came by with champagne. Dawson waved her away. Brianna asked for water. She drank it slowly, watching him over the rim of the glass.He felt her gaze. She knew he did. His ja

The morning light grew stronger, pushing through the curtains, falling across the bed where they sat.Dawson's hand was still in hers. His breathing was slow, steady, but she could feel the tension in his fingers. He was waiting. For what, she did not know.She looked at their hands. At his thumb tracing circles on her skin. At the way he held on like she might disappear."Tell me about Geneva," she said.His hand stopped moving."What about it?"She turned to face him. His profile was sharp in the light, the scar on his neck pale, the shadows under his eyes dark."What it meant. To you."He was quiet for a moment."It meant everything."Her chest ached. "Then why did you pretend it didn't?"He pulled his hand away. Stood up. Walked to the window."Because I had to."She rose. Followed him."Had to? Or chose to?"He turned. His face was tight."Brianna—""Tell me it meant nothing." Her voice cracked. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that Geneva was just a mistake. That the way you hel

The foyer was full of people.Brianna walked into the house and felt every eye turn toward her. Some she recognized. Carlo, the driver, standing near the stairs with his hands in his pockets. Viktor, the traitor, leaning against the wall with a smile that made her skin crawl. Others she did not know. Men in dark suits. Women in expensive dresses. All of them watching.Dawson walked ahead of her, his strides long, his shoulders straight. He did not look back. He did not slow down.She followed.The living room had been cleared of furniture. Chairs were arranged in rows, facing a table at the front. On the table, a folder. Red. Thick. The list.And beside the table, Eric.He was dressed in black, his hair combed back, his smile wide. He looked like a man who had already won."Ah. The guests of honor." He spread his arms. "Welcome, nephew. Welcome, little wolf."Brianna kept her face still. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.Dawson stopped a few feet from the t