My mom married a wealthy man, and as her tagalong, I got dragged into the world of luxury. Life in the mansion was perfect in every way—except for my cold, handsome stepbrother, who clearly couldn’t stand me. The way he looked at me was becoming more and more unsettling. Then one night, he came home drunk, and I ended up screaming myself hoarse, forced to call him “husband” the entire night. “Awake?” Peter Jude didn’t even bother knocking as he barged in, bold as ever. He casually sat on the edge of the bed, holding a tube of ointment in his hand. I instinctively backed away, but the wall was right behind me. His eyes flashed with a hint of displeasure, and his imposing figure loomed even closer. I awkwardly muttered, “Brother…” In my mind, I was desperately trying to come up with excuses for him. Maybe he had forgotten what happened last night after he sobered up. That must be why he was acting so calm. He frowned slightly. “No need to sound so distant.” Distant? Calling him “brother” still felt too formal? I had a sinking feeling, and the events that followed only confirmed my worst fears. Without any warning, he yanked the covers off me. I barely had time to put anything on! “Ah!” I gasped, but he just looked at me with feigned surprise. He squeezed some ointment from the tube and, without hesitation, his large hand began searching for a spot to apply it. “Mm…” My body melted like water as his touch invaded me. My eyes misted over, and I tried to muster the strength to resist. But then he coldly warned me. “This spot is delicate. I don’t want it getting hurt again. Unless you think you’ve recovered, we can always continue.” Continue? Continue what?! Peter, who was usually so cold and restrained, had become insatiable! The invader continued to ravage my secret base, determined to poison every last inch. To ensure thorough coverage, he ventured deeper and repeated the process again and again. I was panting heavily, unable to stifle the moans that escaped my lips. Through the corner of my eye, I saw the faint amusement in his gaze. Embarrassed, I grabbed a pillow and covered my face, wishing I could just disappear. At that moment, the phone on the bedside table suddenly rang. With sharp reflexes, Peter picked it up before I could. When he saw it was my mom calling, he answered without hesitation. I glared at him, furious. But the invader at my secret base hadn’t left. Even though the poison had been spread evenly, he lingered at the gates, idly toying with the door handle. “Alice, your stepdad and I are out shopping in Paris. There are so many fun things here. Is there anything you’d like?” I didn’t really want anything. All I wanted was for Mom to get what she wanted—being happy with her new husband. The invader suddenly twisted the handle harder, and I couldn’t help but let out a stifled moan. “Mm… anything’s fine.” Mom sighed in frustration. “Don’t say ‘anything’s fine’ every time.” “Uh… mm… ah!” The invader finally withdrew, only to reenter, this time clad in a different kind of armor. His soft hair brushed against my thighs, and the smooth armor scraped against every surface of the base, leaving me utterly defenseless. With Mom’s confused “What’s going on?” echoing through the phone, I hastily hung up. I didn’t even have the strength to hold the phone anymore; it slipped from my grasp onto the pillow. After finishing, Peter casually stood up, turning on the tap as if nothing had happened. He looked at me with dark, gleaming eyes, licking his lips. Just like when he overheard me talking to my ex-boyfriend yesterday. “Why don’t you tell your mom about us?” he asked. Tell her? How could I? What was I supposed to say? That I was having a forbidden romance with my wealthy stepbrother? My mind was still foggy, and I could only mumble, “I won’t tell.” “And what does that make me?” I hesitated, searching for an answer. “…My brother?” He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt one by one. “Well then, congratulations. You’ve got a brother who can screw you.” I barely had time to process what he said before everything went black. After turning on the faucet, Peter Jude finally stood up, looking at me with a glint in his eyes. He licked his lips, his gaze heavy, just like when he overheard me on the phone with my ex-boyfriend, Chris, the other day. “Why didn’t you tell your mom about us?” How could I say anything? What would I even tell her? That I was caught in some forbidden romance with my stepbrother in this rich family? My mind was still hazy, and I mumbled, “I won’t say anything.” “Then what does that make me?” he asked. I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “…My brother?” He gave a slight nod and stood up, calmly unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. “Well then, congratulations—you’ve got yourself a brother who’s willing to go all the way with you.” I slowly formed a question in my mind, but I didn’t have the chance to finish it.
Peter Jude wasn’t one for empty promises. He did exactly what he said he would. Sweat dripped from his temples onto my collarbone, searing my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, too embarrassed to look at the reflection in the mirror. He purposefully blew into my ear, making my eyelashes flutter. The sight of our bodies moving together in the mirror made my face flush a deep crimson. To him, my feeble attempts to struggle were just part of the fun. He pressed me against the cold mirror, whispering things that made my face burn with shame, forcing me to call him “husband” over and over. It didn’t matter how much I begged; there was no escape. By the time it ended, I was so exhausted I couldn’t even lift a finger. The ointment he applied had been washed away entirely. And that was just the beginning. He made sure I couldn’t leave the mansion; no matter what time it was, I found myself trapped in this endless cycle of desire. It was impossible to tell that Peter was supposed to be running a company, considering how often I was pulled from the bed, only to end up back in it moments later. And it wasn’t always the bed. He said he was helping me get familiar with the mansion, taking me from the bathroom, to the study, to the home theater, and even… the lawn. Each place bore witness to our time together, and I quickly became more than familiar with my new home. After another break, I received a message from Mom saying she and Mr. Harris would be home soon. I almost cried with joy. It was true—I’d had feelings for Peter since we first met, but I thought it would be something pure. What he did, though, was far from it. And it wasn’t just once—it was a full week of things I couldn’t even talk about. I felt like even if I made it to Mexico now, no one would want these broken kidneys of mine. “You seem distracted,” Peter murmured, his lips crashing against mine before I could reply. When I finally managed to catch my breath, I blurted out, “Mom and Mr. Harris are coming back.” He stopped and casually said, “So what?” “This isn’t right,” I said, trying to calm my breathing and the blush spreading across my face. “We can’t let them find out. Let’s just end this, and I’ll pretend nothing happened.” “Why?” Peter’s expression darkened, and his eyes flashed with anger as he harshly smeared more ointment onto me. “You clearly enjoyed it.” I winced, knowing deep down he wasn’t wrong. My phone had been in my hand the whole time. If I had wanted to stop or tell someone, that week of chaos never would have happened. “I don’t want anyone to know what happened after I entered this wealthy life. Plus, Mom’s about to marry Mr. Harris. No one can know about us.” Those were both true reasons, especially the latter. Mom raised me alone, and I knew she genuinely loved Mr. Harris—it wasn’t just about the money. Peter would never marry me, and even if he tried, it would ruin Mom’s chance at happiness with Mr. Harris. And, truthfully, I had feelings for Peter, my so-called stepbrother. That’s why I let everything happen. Peter licked his fingers. Just as I thought he was about to punish me, he smirked and said, “Fine, I wouldn’t want to ruin Mom’s marriage plans.” He stormed out, looking uncharacteristically childish for someone usually so cold and composed. I curled up, hugging my knees, feeling the room grow emptier with each passing second. If only Peter wasn’t Peter. If only I wasn’t Alice. Wouldn’t that be better?
After that, Peter Jude went back to his normal self—or at least, it appeared that way. His face was cold as usual, and he was busy with work, darting from one thing to the next. He even stopped coming home to the mansion for a while. That was until my mom and stepdad returned. They came back with a haul of expensive gifts, looking travel-worn and tired. Mom, in particular, seemed exhausted. Mr. Harris, on the other hand, was in a great mood, happily chatting and even calling Peter back to join us. When Peter arrived, he sat down next to me on the couch, closer than necessary. I instinctively tried to move away, but then I heard Mom say, “I’m glad to see you two getting along so well. That really puts me at ease.” I froze in place, forced to sit there beside Peter while Mr. Harris talked enthusiastically about their trip. His stories dragged on, and as he went on, something in me started to feel wrong. It was like an ant crawling under my skin, making its way deeper, causing my entire body to tense up. I glanced over at Peter and saw my flushed reflection in his eyes. He leaned in, whispering so only I could hear, “You don’t want Nancy to know just how close we’ve gotten, do you?” He was right. We had gotten too close. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to keep my composure while Mr. Harris continued talking endlessly. Another metaphorical ant joined the first, tormenting me further as they burrowed deeper. My mind raced as I wished I hadn’t worn a skirt today. By the time Mr. Harris had finally stopped, I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to endure it all, biting down hard on my lower lip to keep myself from losing it. When I came back to my senses, the living room had emptied, leaving only Peter and me. Peter looked far too pleased with himself. I quickly stood up, my legs weak and unsteady. As I did, I noticed the mark we had left on the couch, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground. “Peter Jude!” I snapped. “Where are your manners?” he said coolly, adjusting his tie with the calm precision of a predator who had just cornered its prey. “Why aren’t you calling me ‘brother’ anymore?” I glared at him. “We agreed we’d leave each other alone after this.” His expression grew darker. “I don’t think my dear sister understands one thing. I will keep violating you, and what can you do about it?” He emphasized the word violate with a chilling intensity, stepping closer to me with the intimacy of a lover. “For so many years, countless women have tried to climb their way into this family. Do you know why my father is still single? What chance does your mom really have?” I continued backing away, like a cornered animal with no escape. “What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice trembling. He stopped, finally halting his approach. “Be my plaything, and I’ll convince my father to accept your mom.” At that moment, I fully understood the weight of power and control that came from someone who’d held the upper hand for so long. He wasn’t looking at me with love—just pure, unfiltered desire and the certainty that he would have whatever he wanted. I had been wrong. I thought, at the very least, he had some feelings for me. But now, I realized it was just lust, nothing more. Peter didn’t wait for my response. Instead, he turned his gaze past me and smiled, his expression suddenly softening. “Hello, Nancy.” Startled, I spun around. My mom was walking down the stairs, her face lighting up as she saw Peter. She seemed genuinely happy that he had greeted her and started chatting with him warmly. I knew then that there was no need for any more words. That night, I anticipated something would happen, but I was still caught off guard when my door was unlocked and opened. —Mom’s room was right next to mine. “Are you crazy?” I asked coldly. Peter’s face remained calm, his voice steady. “No choice. If the mountain won’t come to me, I’ll go to the mountain.” He smirked at me, standing there in my nightgown, and tossed something onto the bed.
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