All Chapters of Rejected Plus Size: Her Four Stepbrother’s Obsession : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The morning started like any other.Emma arrived at Jax's bakery before sunrise, her apron tied tight, her hands already dusted with flour from the moment she walked through the door. The familiar rhythm of the kitchen was the only thing keeping her sane these days—the measuring, the mixing, the quiet meditation of making something beautiful out of nothing.Jax was already there, as always. He stood at the counter, kneading dough with the kind of focus that suggested he was working through something. His tattoos rippled across his forearms with each movement, the dark ink a stark contrast against the flour dusting his skin.He didn't look up when she entered."You're early," he said."Couldn't sleep.""Same."They worked in silence, the comfortable kind that comes from two people who understand what it means to be haunted. Emma shaped croissants while Jax prepared the morning bread, their movements synchronized like a dance they'd been practicing for years.For a moment, Emma felt alm

Emma woke up alone.The sheets were tangled around her legs, the pillow beside her cold and empty. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was—the room was unfamiliar, the light all wrong, the silence too heavy.Then it hit her.Ethan.His hands on her skin. His mouth against hers. The way he'd whispered her name like a prayer. The way she'd let him—wanted him—arched into him like she was starving and he was the only thing that could fill her.Emma sat up so fast her head spun.Oh god.She pressed a hand to her mouth, her stomach lurching. She was going to be sick. Not from the alcohol she hadn't had that much but from the realization of what she'd done.She was still married.Still Michael's wife.She had slept with her stepbrother.Her mother's new husband's son.Emma pulled the sheets around her body, her fingers trembling as she clutched them to her chest. The fabric was soft—expensive, she realized. Everything in Ethan's apartment was expensive. The sheets, the furniture, the

The bakery was quiet after closing.Emma wiped down the counters, her movements slow and mechanical. She'd been avoiding Jax all day—keeping her head down, focusing on the ovens, pretending everything was normal. But she could feel his eyes on her. He knew. Of course he knew. Jax always knew."Emma."She froze, her hand stilling on the counter."Yeah?""Come here."It wasn't a request. It was a command—She turned slowly, her heart pounding. Jax stood by the back door, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The tattoos on his forearms seemed darker in the dim light, the piercings in his eyebrow and lip glinting like warnings."I'm almost done," she said, her voice too bright. "Just need to finish up and then—""Emma." He said her name again, softer this time. "Stop."She stopped."Something's wrong," Jax said."I'm fine.""You're not fine." He stepped closer. "You've been crying."Emma touched her face instinctively, as if she could wipe away the evidence. But the tears had dried

Emma should have known better than to accept the invitation.But her mother had insisted. "It's just dinner, sweetheart. You've been avoiding the mansion for days. Everyone misses you."Everyone. Right.She'd arrived at the Carter Mansion an hour ago, and she'd been regretting it ever since.Because Seraphina was there.She was everywhere—at breakfast, at dinner, in the gardens, in the hallways. She moved through the mansion like she owned it, her laughter echoing off the marble floors, her perfume lingering in every room.And the brothers—all of them—gravitated toward her like moths to a flame. Emma stood in the corner of the living room, a glass of wine in her hand, watching.Seraphina sat on the couch between Ethan and Adrian, her legs tucked beneath her, her hand resting on Ethan's arm as she told a story about their childhood. Something about a summer trip to Europe, a yacht, a scandalous escapade that had everyone laughing."You remember that, don't you, Ethan?" Seraphina asked

The whispers started on a Tuesday.Emma was at the bakery, her hands buried in dough, when she heard it—a cluster of customers near the front counter, their voices low but not low enough."Did you hear? Emma slept with Ethan.""She's still married, you know.""What kind of woman does that?"Emma's hands stilled. The dough squelched between her fingers. She told herself she'd misheard. Told herself they were talking about someone else. Told herself it wasn't real.But the whispers followed her.At the farmers' market. At the coffee shop. At the grocery store. Everywhere she went, she felt eyes on her—cold, judging, knowing.She tried to ignore it. She focused on her work, on her painting, on the slow process of healing. But the whispers were relentless, wearing her down like water on stone.What kind of woman does that?She knew the answer. The kind of woman she'd become. She confronted Ethan on a Thursday.She showed up at his office unannounced, her hands shaking, her heart pounding