All Chapters of Rule Number 1: Kissing Your Stepbrother Again Will Ruin You: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Elowen The grand ballroom of the Grand Horizon Hotel buzzed with low, refined chatter and the soft, swelling melody of a live string quartet. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, casting a golden hue over the polished floors, but all I could focus on was the suffocating tension radiating from the body beside me. Zephyr and I were seated at one of the prime tables near the front of the stage. On paper, we looked like the picture of high-society elegance—me in liquid black silk, him in his tailored suit. But under the table, the space between us vibrated with a dangerous, unspoken strain. Up on the lit stage, Mirabelle stood behind the podium, glowing under the spotlights. She wore an emerald velvet dress that screamed royalty, a micro-drop diamond necklace sparkling against her skin. Her smile was breathtaking, radiating warmth, grace, and authority. "I look around this room tonight," Mirabelle’s smooth, amplified voice echoed through the speakers, "and I see the true heart of o

Elowen In the next minute, I heard a sudden, violent crash of wood splintering against marble shattered the ballroom's refined atmosphere. A heavy, gilded chair tilted violently sideways, slamming into the edge of a table as Zephyr hit it with his arm. The sharp, resounding CLACK echoed high above the hum of the string quartet and the polite chatter of the crowd. Instantly, the music died. Heads turned in unison. Everyone froze mid-sip, their eyes locking onto the tall, dark-suited figure vibrating with raw rage at the side of the hall. Zephyr stood there, his chest heaving under his tailored jacket, staring down at his mother with a glare so terrifyingly hot it could have burned the room to ash. Mirabelle didn't even flinch. She let out a small, delicate sigh, tilting her head with an indulgent, maternal expression that painted her as the picture of infinite patience. "I love you, son," she said, her voice carrying smoothly over the dead silence. Zephyr didn't answer.

Elowen "Hey, let's go, let's go!" Gabrielle urged, pulling my attention away as he gestured down a dimly lit staircase. "Hope you come around later so we can party a bit," Anthony called out after me. He reached over to a nearby table, grabbed a red plastic cup filled with dark wine, and shoved it into my hand. I grabbed the cup, raised it to my lips, and took a huge, reckless gulp—desperate to drown out the ridiculous heat flushing my body. The dark alcohol hit the back of my throat like liquid fire, bitter and burning. I pinched my eyebrows together in a deep frown, fighting the urge to spit it out, but I swallowed it down and kept walking down the stairs. Why the hell do people like these? Geez! "I think that's a yes!" Anthony’s voice faded behind us into the pounding bass. "Let's go, let's go!" Gabrielle kept repeating, descending the concrete steps into the basement level. The heavy bass grew louder, vibrating straight through the soles of my feet. When I stepped o

Zephyr "Heaven help that bastard when I see him." The words tore out of my throat in a suffocating, lethal rasps as my arms locked around Elowen’s trembling frame. She weighed practically nothing in my arms. Her small, delicate head thudded limp against my collarbone, her breath coming in hot, shallow hitches that smelled faintly of bitter wine and chemical trash. Her skin was burning, radiating right through her silk dress and soaking into my bare chest. Panic surged straight through my veins like ice water. I stared down into her small face, my heart slamming wildly against my ribs like a trapped beast. Her blonde hair was tangled across her forehead, her eyelashes fluttering helplessly against her pale skin. I had strictly ordered Gabrielle to carry her straight back home. I had explicitly warned him to lock her inside the apartment, away from this underground hellhole, away from the filthy, degenerate world I kept buried deep beneath the polished surface of my school life

Elowen It had been a week since the nightmare at the gala. A whole week since I ended up stranded on a dark curb, picked up by a valet, dragged into an underground club, and threw a glass of bitter red alcohol directly into Zephyr’s chest before my stomach violently rebelled all over him. Things between us had lapsed into a tense, icy standoff ever since. We barely spoke, passing each other in the sprawling penthouse like two quiet ghosts holding live grenades. "Oh my God, Elowen... this place is unbelievable," Isa gasped, spinning around in the middle of our open-concept living area. Her eyes were wide, taking in the sweeping floor-to-ceiling city views, the Italian marble countertops, and the sleek modern art lining the hallway. "I knew the Knox family had money, but living here? It's like walking onto a movie set!" "It's just glass and stone, Isa," I murmured, leaning against the kitchen island as I poured two glasses of iced tea. "Trust me, it feels a lot more like a gilde