All Chapters of Two Brothers. One Ruin.: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

My fingers tremble as I hold the marriage contract, the papers unsteady in my grip. Shaun stands before me, a pillar of infuriating calm, his eyes locked onto mine without so much as a blink. How the hell did he put this together so fast? Did he have it ready all along, tucked away like a loaded gun? Had he known—known—I’d walk straight into his trap? Had he known I’d end up here, backed into this corner, gasping for air? His hand moves, and from the inner pocket of his coat, he pulls out a fountain pen. The gold nib catches the light, sharp and unrelenting. “Tick-tock, Doc. It’s time to choose.” He extends it toward me. “Which runs deeper?” a faint curve lifts one corner of his mouth. “Your love for Julian… or your hatred for me?” My gaze drops to the pen, its sleek body balanced between his fingers. Such a simple thing. Ordinary. innocuous. And yet— Right now, it feels anything but. My throat tightens. That pen might as well be a gun. Pointed straight at my head. No. I wo

It’s like our arrival was announced before we even got here. The moment we step inside, I notice them—the staff. Lined up. Men and women alike, standing at attention. Spines rigid, eyes lowered, not a single one daring to look up. The silence is heavy, disciplined. It doesn’t feel like a home. It feels like a controlled zone. Like a place where everything—and everyone—knows exactly where they stand. Shaun doesn’t spare them a glance. He walks straight through, dragging me along with him, as if they’re nothing more than part of the structure. We pass the entrance and move into a wide, circular space—the kind that connects everything, anchors the house at its core. And there— They’re waiting. His family. Already gathered. Already watching. My stomach twists the second my eyes land on Randall Stone, standing at the front of them all. And just like that— Something ugly ignites inside me. Hotter than before. Sharper. Because that man— That man would have preferred me dead.

Shaun It’s not like I didn’t give her an out. She could’ve walked away. Could’ve gone back to her neat little life at the hospital and pretended none of us ever existed. I chose to let her go. I chose to spare her life. That night in the backseat of the car, every instinct I had was practically screaming at me to keep her. Keep her close. Keep her where I could see her. And I still let her slip through my fingers. Because I saw it in her eyes. She was already wrecked. Way more wrecked than she should’ve been before I’d even laid a hand on her life. For once, I decided not to ruin somebody. A mistake, apparently. Because the stupid girl didn’t have enough self-preservation to take the chance I handed her. And now here she is. Curled up on the couch with her face buried into one of the cushions, crying like her whole world just got ripped out from under her. Which, to be fair, it kind of did. Her jet-black hair is spread all over the place. Every now and then her shoulders sh

My father is leaning back against his desk, both hands grip the edge behind him. One leg is crossed over the other with deliberate ease, almost theatrical. His gaze drifts from me to Shaun… then back again… then away once more. Back and forth. The only sound filling the room is my breathing—too loud, too uneven. The two of them might as well be statues. Locked in some silent, ridiculous staring contest neither is willing to lose. Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’ve never seen anyone more immovable than my father. Until now. Looks like he finally met his match. God—maybe I do have daddy issues. Because there’s no other logical explanation for why I was ever drawn to Shaun in the first place. I clear my throat, louder than necessary, the sound slicing through the tension. “Dad.” All that scrutinizing attention snaps back to me, like I’ve always been the center of it. “How are you, sweetheart?” There it is. Always the first question. Every single time he sees me. And

A performance—one that doesn’t leave room for doubt. For a heartbeat, I just… freeze. Shock pins me in place, my mind blanking out under the suddenness of it. Then it all comes rushing back. Everything he’s done. Every threat, every violation, every choice he stole. My stomach twists with revulsion, nausea rising fast, and I shove against him, trying to break free— But he doesn’t let me. His grip tightens, holding me exactly where he wants me, like I’m part of the act whether I agreed to it or not. His tongue invades my mouth, and I hate how my pulse spikes despite the fury roaring in my veins. That damn scent of his—once intoxicating, once the thing that made my knees weak—now coils in my throat like poison gas. Suffocating. Lethal. The footsteps grow louder, closer. I force myself to stop fighting, to melt into the kiss, to play the part. Because right now, this—this sick, twisted show—has to look real. He handles my lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Lik