I was 12 years old when Mom married into the Brock family. Kieran was 15 years old then, and his gaze toward us was sharp and cold.

It wasn't hard to tell that he hated the very idea of us being there.

I remember clutching the hem of my dress as Mom introduced me to him as his sister.

Kieran only glanced at me coldly and sneered. "My mom only had one child. I'd appreciate it if certain people didn't try to force a connection. Especially the child of a homewrecker."

The humiliation of those words pinned me to the spot.

I tried to find my voice and explain that Mom didn't date Andre until long after Kieran's mother had passed away. She wasn't a homewrecker.

But Kieran didn't care for the truth. He treated us like dirt, and no matter how many times Andre scolded him, nothing changed.

To keep the peace for Mom, I stayed out of Kieran's way to avoid sparking his fuse.

I thought my relationship with Kieran would always stay this tense.

Then came the night I turned 17 years old.

I was walking home alone after a late study session. As I turned a corner, I came face-to-face with a drunken man moving toward me, his words lewd and foul.

I clutched my bag to my chest, panic surging as I scanned the street for help, but it was deserted.

Despair began to sink in.

Just as the man's hand reached for me, a firm grip suddenly yanked me back, shielding me. Then came a heavy thud as the man hit the pavement.

I stared blankly at the figure standing in front of me. I never expected Kieran—who had always loathed me—to be the one to save me.

Kieran shook out his wrist. His gaze at me was as impatient as ever, yet I caught a flicker of genuine tension in his gaze.

"You've got a car but won't take it? Are you just asking for trouble? Don't make it seem like we're abusing you."

Andre had arranged for a driver to take us both to school. But I knew my presence only irritated Kieran, so I had never ridden with him.

The instant our gazes locked, I hurriedly averted my eyes, unsure of what to say.

Kieran clicked his tongue in annoyance, grabbing my wrist and shoving me into the backseat.

The finer details of that night have blurred over time. But I would never forget the way my heart hammered against my ribs as he stood before me.

For as long as I could remember, it had just been Mom. She worked so hard that I never wanted to burden her with my problems. I kept every slight and every bruise to myself.

That night was the first time I had ever felt protected.

Since then, my relationship with Kieran had begun to change subtly.

I found myself watching him without thinking, quietly keeping tabs on his life. I convinced myself I was subtle enough that Kieran would never notice.

But on the night of my 18th birthday, a feverish kiss laid all my hidden feelings bare.

For my 18th birthday, Andre threw me a lavish party. With so many guests around, I was eventually coaxed into having a few glasses of wine.

I had never touched alcohol before, so it didn't take long for the world to start spinning.

After seeing everyone off, I stumbled back to my room. As soon as I collapsed onto the bed, I felt the warmth of another body.

I stared at Kieran's face, which was looming so close to mine, and convinced myself it was a dream. As I leaned in, I muttered, "Birthdays really are the best. I'm even having beautiful dreams."

The moment the soft touch reached my mind, I snapped awake. I widened my eyes, scrambled out of bed, and stammered an apology, "I-I'm sorry! I thought it was a dream. I didn't mean to…"

But Kieran didn't look angry. In fact, he looked like he had been expecting this. He began to lean in.

"You know what they say about dreams reflecting your inner desires. Esty, do you have feelings for me?"

That was the first time Kieran had ever called me "Esty". I had heard Mom say my name a thousand times, but coming from him, it sounded intimate. It made my skin flush.

I couldn't find the words to deny it. I could only watch as he backed me toward the edge of the bed.

Kieran wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us. "Esty, why don't I make your dream come true?"

His heat made me go weak. Lost in the haze, I nodded.

A moment later, he claimed my mouth in a suffocating, overwhelming kiss.

We didn't sleep at all that night.

When I woke up the next morning, my legs were so sore I could barely walk. And yet, my heart was overflowing with happiness. The person I loved actually loved me back.

From that day on, Kieran and I began a secret relationship. In public, we were distant, estranged siblings. At night, we were inseparable in the same bed.

I truly believed that one day, our relationship would be out in the open and blessed by everyone.

I didn't realize until today that Kieran never loved me. To him, I was nothing more than a pawn for revenge.

That was why every time I begged him to go public, all he ever said was, "Just wait."

What was he waiting for?

He was waiting to find the woman he actually wanted to marry so he could tell me I was nothing but a mistress kept in the dark to complete his revenge.

And I had to admit that Kieran succeeded.

I curled up under the covers, tossing and turning as tears soaked my pillow. Every time I closed my eyes, those cruel words replayed in my mind like a recurring nightmare.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning, just as I was drifting into a hazy sleep, that a cold body pressed against mine.

"You left your phone in the private room. Why didn't you borrow someone's to message me? I was worried sick when you didn't pick up."

I snapped awake, struggling to break free from his hold. "I was just exhausted when I got home. I forgot."

Kieran locked his arms around my waist, pinning me in place. "Esty, I've been worrying about you all night, yet here you are, sleeping like a baby. Didn't we agree you'd wait up to give me my gift? Where is it?"

The image of the carefully wrapped box hidden in my drawer flashed through my mind, and my eyes stung again. "I lost it."

Kieran didn't press the issue. Instead, he nipped at my ear, his hot breath trailing down my neck. "It's fine. You're the only gift I need. I just want you to always be with me."

Sensing what was coming, I bit down hard on the webbing of his hand. He let out a low groan of pain and reflexively let go.

I scrambled to put some distance between us and muttered, "I'm not feeling well tonight."

As long as I was still living under the Brocks' roof, I couldn't afford a total fallout.

Frowning, Kieran stared at me through the darkness for a long time. In the end, he sighed and pulled me back into his chest. "Fine. I won't touch you. Just sleep."

Maybe the birthday party had drained him because his breathing soon became rhythmic.

Then, his phone on the nightstand vibrated. Somehow, almost on instinct, I unlocked it and tapped on a notification.

It was a group chat.

Photos were flooding in, one after another, all featuring the same pair—Kieran and a young woman who looked polished and elegant from head to toe.

My heart skipped a beat.

This had to be Vivian Fowler, the woman he intended to marry.

In one photo, Kieran had his arm around her waist while they shared a deep kiss under a sky full of fireworks.

The messages kept scrolling by.

"Kieran really is head over heels for Vivian. It's his birthday, yet he spent it putting on a fireworks show for her."

"You don't get it. That's what you call effort. His stepsister definitely doesn't get that treatment. She's just for blowing off steam. LOL."

"Good thing she left early. It would've been awkward if she bumped into Vivian."

"Who cares? They're getting married on April 8th anyway. That's two weeks away. Even if she found out today, the revenge would be just as sweet."

Kieran claimed to have been worried sick, but he was actually setting off fireworks for his fiancee.

It felt like my heart had been sliced open, bleeding out in the dark.

I wiped my tears, carefully climbed over the sleeping Kieran, and grabbed my phone. The moment the screen lit up, a missed call notification popped up. It was from Kieran.

I choked back a sob and deleted the log. Then, I opened my email. I stared at the draft I had written days ago but never had the courage to send.

I deleted it, letter by letter, and typed a new one.

"Hi, I'm pleased to accept the dance troupe's invitation to perform abroad. I will be departing on…"

I paused, glancing back at Kieran's phone before finishing the sentence.

"I will be departing on April 8th."