All Chapters of My Stepbrother My Ruin: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss.Brianna stood beside Dawson, her hand still in his, her heart pounding so loud she was certain he could hear it. The elevator was small, the walls mirrored, the light harsh and unforgiving. She could see their reflections in the polished metal. His face was hard, his jaw tight. Her own face was pale, her eyes wide.Neither of them spoke.The numbers on the panel climbed slowly. Three. Four. Five. Each floor seemed to take an eternity. She could feel the tension radiating from him, the way his fingers were still tight around hers, the way his breathing was shallow and controlled.She wanted to say something. To break the silence. To ask him what he was thinking, what he was planning, what had happened to the man who had held her in the cabin and whispered that he loved her.But the words would not come.The elevator stopped. The doors opened onto the parking garage. Cold air rushed in, carrying the smell of concrete and exhaust. He pulled

Dawn was still hours away when Brianna woke.She lay still, her eyes open, listening to the sounds of the cabin. The fire crackled softly. The wind scraped against the windows. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called.But there was another sound. A voice. Low and careful. Coming from the other room.Dawson was on the phone again.She sat up slowly, careful not to make a sound. The bed creaked beneath her. She froze, waiting, but his voice did not stop. It was steady, controlled, the voice of a man who was used to giving orders and having them followed.She could not make out his words. Only the tone. Cold. Precise. The tone he used when he was planning something he did not want her to know about.She slipped out of bed. Her bare feet were cold on the wooden floor. She moved toward the door, her heart beating faster with each step.The door was open a crack. She could see him standing by the window, his back to her, his phone pressed to his ear. The firelight flickered across his face

The cabin was dark when Brianna slipped out of bed.She had been lying awake for hours, her mind racing, the files from Dawson's office burned into her memory. The accounts. The names. The payments. Eric's empire, spread across pages and pages of evidence.Dawson was asleep. His breathing was deep and even, his face peaceful in the dim light from the dying fire. The cut on his cheek was still red, still raw. He had not told her everything. She knew that. He had told her enough to keep her quiet, but not enough to keep her safe.She moved through the cabin on silent feet, her heart pounding. His office was at the end of the hall. She had been in it once. She knew where he kept the files. She knew where he hid the things he did not want her to see.The door was ajar. She slipped inside.The room was cold. The papers were still spread across the desk where she had left them. She walked to the chair, sat down, and began to work.She needed to understand. Not just the accounts. Not just th

Renzo led them into a dark sitting room.The curtains were drawn. The furniture was old, covered in dust. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the walls. The air smelled of tobacco and fear.Renzo sat in a chair by the fire. His hands were shaking. He did not offer them a seat."I knew you'd come," he said again. His voice was thin, reedy. "I've been waiting for years."Dawson stood near the fireplace. His back was to the flames. His eyes were fixed on the old man."Then you know what I want."Renzo nodded slowly. "The truth. About your mother.""Yes."Renzo looked at his hands. They were still shaking."I was paid to keep quiet. Paid to make sure she never left." He looked up. His eyes were wet. "I didn't know they were going to kill her. I swear. I thought they just wanted to scare her."Brianna moved closer to Dawson. Her hand found his."Who paid you?"Renzo's eyes moved to her. He looked at her face, at her hand in Dawson's. Something flickered in his eyes

The cabin was quiet when they returned from Florence.Brianna sat at the kitchen table, the folder spread before her, her eyes scanning the pages for the hundredth time. The evidence was solid. The payments. The names. The connections. Everything they needed to destroy Eric.But something was missing.She could feel it. A gap in the web. A thread that had not been pulled.Dawson came up behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders."You've been staring at those papers for hours.""There's something I'm not seeing."He leaned down. His chin rested on her head."Like what?"She pointed at a series of payments. "These. They're all to the same account. But the account is empty. Whoever is receiving the money is moving it somewhere else."Dawson straightened. He walked around the table and sat across from her."How do you know?"She pulled out a separate page. "I traced the transfers. The money goes in, stays for a few days, then moves to another account. Then another. Then another.""Lay