All Chapters of My One-Night Stand Turned Out to Be My Stepbrother : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

NIA POVFor the first time in two weeks, I didn’t wake up feeling like a brick was sitting on my chest.The pale morning light filtering through the single window of Unit 4B was grey and cool, casting soft shadows across the small studio. Usually, my eyes would snap open at 6:00 AM, my pulse instantly racing as my mind replayed the scandal, Serena’s faces, or the cold, empty silence my mother had left behind.Today was different.I lay under the thin blanket, staring up at the water stain on the ceiling, listening to the hum of the mini-fridge. My heart was steady. The ache behind my ribs was still there—a quiet, constant weight—but the panic was gone.Instead, I remembered Kingston’s laugh.That deep, low rumble that used to make my stomach flip when we were standing too close in the kitchen late at night. I remembered how easily we had slipped back into our rhythm, bickering over bodega coffee and burnt chicken as if forty-five minutes on the phone could erase fourteen days of utter

NIA POVMy palms were sweating against the fabric of my beige blazer.I stood in the sleek, minimalist lobby of Westbridge Creative at 9:55 a.m. on Tuesday, staring at the polished chrome logo on the wall. The reception area smelled faintly of expensive eucalyptus and fresh espresso. It was quiet, professional, and entirely detached from the chaos that had consumed my life for the past three weeks.You know what you’re doing, I told myself, smoothing down my skirt. Just breathe.That was easier said than done when your name had been dragged across social media feeds and local Atlanta blogs. Every time I thought about walking into an office where someone might recognize my face from Serena’s leaked video, my stomach tightened into a hard knot.“Nia Brooks?”I looked up. A tall man with sharp glasses and an open-collared navy shirt was standing by the double glass doors. Daniel Price, the senior director of talent who had called me last week, smiled warmly.

KINGSTON POVMy father’s executive assistant didn’t call my desk phone very often. When she did, it usually meant someone was losing their job or a multimillion-dollar acquisition was about to go sideways.“Kingston,” Danielle’s voice came through the speaker at precisely 4:15 p.m. “Your father would like to see you in his office before you leave today.”“I’ll be right there,” I said.I saved my changes on the Vanguard Logistics Real Estate closing deck, closed the dual monitors, and stood up. I buttoned my suit jacket, adjusted my cuffs, and walked down the long, carpeted hall toward the corner suite on Floor 40.For three weeks, my interactions with Pop had been strictly operational. I gave him numbers; he gave me demands. He kept his distance, treating me less like his heir and more like a high-performing employee who had narrowly avoided termination.I knocked once on his heavy mahogany door.“Come in,” his voice boomed from inside.I pushed the d

KINGSTON POVThe front door of the penthouse felt heavier than I remembered.I stood in the carpeted hallway at six o'clock on Sunday evening, my key ring weighed down in my hand. I didn't use the key. Instead, I pressed the brass doorbell button and waited, my suit jacket unbuttoned over a navy sweater, my shoulders instinctively tensing.Refusing my father’s invitation would have been easy. It would have meant another night in my spotless downtown loft, eating takeout in front of my laptop. But living like a ghost wasn't solving anything, and running away from the wreckage wouldn't make me more of a man.The door swung open, and Dad stood on the other side.He had traded his corporate charcoal suit for a dark cardigan and slacks. He looked at me for two long seconds, taking in my presence before stepping aside."Kingston," Dad said, his voice deep and measured. "Come in.""Dad," I nodded, stepping over the threshold.The penthouse smelled of roasted

KINGSTON POVIt was past seven on Monday evening when the rest of the thirty-fourth floor went dark.My office was quiet, lit only by the pale glare of my dual monitors and the amber desk lamp sitting beside my coffee mug. The forty-million-dollar Vanguard Logistics Real Estate acquisition was forty-eight hours from final closing, and the board package was supposed to be completely sealed.I had spent the last two hours running a final line-by-line verification across the auxiliary balance sheets. Everything was clean—until I got to the back of the debt-restructuring rider.I zoomed in on Schedule 8-C.A three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar allocation was listed as a "prior-period consulting liability adjustment." On paper, it was booked under standard transactional expenses. But when I cross-referenced the general ledger code, it didn't link to any external vendor or legal firm. It was routed back to an internal operations pool tied to Carter Global's seconda