The wrong brother

Three nights. That was all it was supposed to be. A reckless vacation and a stranger who knew my body too well. I gave him a fake name and a fake life all to match my story– and I promised myself never to see him again. But how cruel was my fate. Because the man who ruined me with his mouth and hands, his crazy, sinful promises, is now standing in my living room. My husband's brother Now he is under my roof, sharing family dinners, and brushing past me with every possible opportunity he gets with a look that betrays our secrets. I should feel guilty, but instead, I want more. My husband loves me but not enough to see me. And his brother? Well, he is the one thing I cannot have again–yet he's the only one who makes me feel alive. What happens when secrets between the sheets turn to lies that could tear me and my family apart?

Chapters

Chapter 1

Lauren pov,

I thought the sound of the waves outside my window would be enough to soothe the burning fire inside of me–but I was wrong. Coming to Greece had always been my getaway plan for me and my husband, but now I was standing in my hotel room alone.

The air was laced with salt and heat, the promise of a home away from home, but mine had cancelled at the last minute.

The hotel room was quiet, too quiet–I felt the impact against my chest. I shifted unto the edge of the bed, my laptop already propped open in front of me, as my fingers hovered over the track pad–I won't lie, I hesitated a bit before pressing play.

The video began with low moans, filtering through the speaker. I exhaled slowly before leaning back against the headboard. At first, I told myself that I was just doing it out of curiousity– I wanted to know how it felt to be touched again, trying to distract myself for a few seconds. But the more I watched, the more my mind betrayed me.

I tried imagining my husband's hands on me–trying to recall the last time he made me feel like a real woman, but I guess my brain couldn't grasp any, because he hadn't touched me in months, nor have he looked at me with any desire. The ache in between my thighs now wasn't about him at all, but still the guilt stung me sharper as the ladies moan grew louder with every thrust she was receiveing– and for a moment there, I couldn't help but wish I was her at that moment.

My fingers slipped beneath my pants, which were underneath the waist bands of my shorts. I moved slowly, desperate to feel something–like closeness. I felt a wimp escape my lips as I clung to the fantasy of having my husband here with me, even though I knew deep down my feelings were already shallow.

"Lauren?"

My best friend's voice snapped me out of it. My heart skipped as I slammed the laptop shut just as the door got closed behind her.

"Oh–my–God–" Vivian froze by the doorway, then she broke into a mockery laugh, which made me ache a bit.

"You've got to be kidding me." she whispered, placing her thumb over her brows.

I yanked the blanket over my lap as I felt my face boil up from shyness. "Don't you knock?"

""I did–" she pouted, "But it seemed you were too far gone to hear any of it."

"But seriously, Lauren, you are watching porn. On a vacation. Alone. Really?" she grinned, her ears stretched as her eyes gleamed with her persuasive wicked delight.

"And here I was thinking this trip was going to be a sunny getaway for a bunch of cocktails and bad decisions together."

"Shut up, Vivian.. " I muttered, burying my face into my hands. "This is already so humiliating."

Vivian strolled over to the bed before flopping onto it and stationing herself close to me. Her laughter faded when she saw the look on my face.

"Calm down, Lauren, I'm not judging, okay? But seriously, this trip was supposed to be with Ezra. Why are you sitting here pretending you can be loved back by a freaking macbook?"

I felt my throat squeeze up on me. Immediately, she mentioned his name. I looked away, staring at the curtains , then down to the moonlight, which cut across the floor.

"He had to cancel at the last minute because of work."

"Work?" Vivian repeated, like it was the flimsiest excuse ever in the world.

"Lauren, may I ask you something?" She asked as I nodded in approval.

"Who turns down a vacation in Greece with their wives?–"

Without waiting for an answer, she blurted out. "No one in their right senses darling–No one."

My eyes burned as her words helped me place the pieces together, I tried holding back my tears from falling.

"That's why I asked you to come, and I'm glad you didn't turn me down."

"Why would I say no to my best girl–" she teased.

The room became silent once more, as she studied me for a long moment.

"You don't deserve this, lauren–do not get me wrong, no one has the right to treat his wife the way yours treats you, and for that you really do not have to be stuck here in this hotel room."

"Stop pretending like your marriage isn't killing you." she added.

I shook my head firmly. Honestly, I knew she was right with every single word, but I wasn't going to back down in supporting my husband.

"Don't say that. I love Ezra."

"I know you do." she said, leaning closer. Her voice was sharp but soft at the same time. "But does he love you the way a husband should? Because from the look of things, you're only married on paper, lauren– and you, my friend, do not feel married. Not in here." She tapped her chest.

I felt a lump formed against my throat as I tried hard to push it down. "You don't understand, Vivian. Marriage is more than sex."

I tried to cover up for him–stupid me.

"Sex is something married people enjoy," she countered. " Now let me ask you, when was the last time you actually enjoyed it? With him?"

I had no answer, no counterback, as I opened my mouth and closed it again. The silence stretched out once more, but time it was heavy.

"You are beautiful, smart, and here you are in Greece, for crying out loud." She said, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Why don't we go out tonight? Have some fun. Meet people, and maybe find you a fling for these three nights we're here for."

"Are you insane? I'm a married woman." I said, my stomach twisted.

"Married," she muttered, rolling her eyes and mimicking the way I sounded.

"But you are not living like one. You are not loved like one. You are neither touched like one, so what the hell are you saying?" Her gaze softened.

"Don't you want to remember what it feels like? Just once? For yourself?"

I felt my heart race, torn in between the truth and my obligations as a well loving wife. I shook my head, trying to push the thought away.

"No. I can't and I won't." I whispered

Vivian's smirk increased as she leaned back on the bed like she had already won. "Okay, if you say so.." she paused, her eyes narrowing as she reached for her phone on the bedside table.

Just then her screen lit up and I saw "Ezra Len-." across, bright and unmistakable.

Vivian froze for a second, then she casually ended the call before tucking the phone away like nothing had happened.

I blinked, unsure if I'd really seen it right. "Vivian–was that–"

She immediately cut in with a grin, "Now, where were we? Oh right–about tonight."

I couldn't find my voice, at one point I couldn't just suspect things and lose my best friend, I quickly shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind.

"Are you okay, Lauren?" she asked.

"Definitely–" I smiled.

"I know you better than you know yourself. And I promise you, Lauren Lennox ... by the end of tonight, you won't be sitting in this room watching and touching yourself with the help of porn."

Continue to next part

I was organizing quarterly reports on the shared drive when I saw it—a folder labeled simply "O.C. Daily." My cursor hovered over it, something about the initials making my stomach tighten. I shouldn't have clicked. Some part of me knew what I'd find, but I couldn't stop myself. The document opened, and my blood turned to ice water in my veins. "Old Crow Daily Chronicles: Observations on Our Feathered Friend" The first entry was dated six months ago. *Today Old Crow spent thirty minutes picking through the recycling bin for 'project materials.' What a shame she couldn't find anything useful—maybe because she's too busy cawing at everyone instead of actually contributing?* I scrolled down, each entry more vicious than the last. Detailed accounts of my daily activities, my clothing choices, even my lunch habits. *Old Crow brought the same sandwich three days in a row. Wonder if she's saving money for a new nest?* *She actually asked Mr.

Modern Mystery Romance

7.0

Bought as a bride by a man I hated

7.0

She was desperate. He was merciless. Liana Moore's sister's life is on the line, and the only person who can save her is Dominic Vale-the man who destroyed her family years ago. One year. One marriage. One chance to survive. Dominic is cold, controlling, and unforgiving. Liana is fierce, stubborn, and trapped in a union built on hatred and power. But when secrets are revealed and the line between punishment and protection blurs, the fire between them becomes impossible to ignore. In a marriage never meant to exist, love is the most dangerous risk of all.

Modern Mystery Romance

7.9

He Risked My Life to Make His Mistress Famous

7.9

The chemical stench clung to my skin like a second layer of sweat. Three days and nights inside the New Jersey plant had left me hollow-eyed and raw-throated, but I'd done it. I'd penetrated their security, documented their crimes, and survived. My hands trembled slightly as I clutched the small recorder in my pocket. The evidence was damning—audio recordings of managers discussing how to bypass environmental regulations, footage of toxic waste being dumped into waterways that fed local communities. I'd risked my life for this story, but it would be worth it. This exposé would finally put our network on the map. The elevator doors slid open to reveal the bustling New York newsroom. Conversations halted as I walked through, my appearance earning raised eyebrows. My hair hung limp with grease, my clothes reeked of industrial solvents, and exhaustion etched every line of my face.

Action Modern Mystery

9.8

His Illness Was A Weapon

9.8

For six years, my marriage was a clinical trial. I was the doctor for my husband Jackson' s severe contamination OCD, enduring endless cleaning rituals just for a touch. Then I found a used condom wrapper in his car. I soon learned he was breaking every single one of his pathological rules for his mistress-kissing her feet, sharing greasy pizza. His "illness" was a lie, a weapon used only against me. When I confronted him, he chose her. To protect his reputation, he threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving cancer treatment. The price for her life? I had to publicly announce I was barren and welcome his mistress and their child into our home. My six years of sacrifice, my entire life, had been a lie designed to control and humiliate me. I was nothing more than a disposable tool. The next day, in front of a room full of reporters, he handed me the script for my public humiliation. I tore it to pieces. Then I stepped up to the microphone and said, "I am here today to announce that my marriage to Jackson York is over."

Action Modern Romance

9.2

Memories have dried up my true feelings

9.2

When Albert—Betty’s assistant—used some absurd wager as an excuse for the seventh time to make her cancel our wedding, I told myself it was just her peculiar way of holding on to top talent. Three years. Seven times. Then came the eighth. The emcee was launching his third enthusiastic warm-up from the stage, and the guests’ murmurs had already swelled into open chatter. My phone glowed. A message from Albert. A photo. Below it, a voice note—also from him, his tone soaked in undisguised amusement and spite: “Roger, sorry. Betty and I made another bet. She says if you can find us within the hour, she’ll marry you. Pity… you won’t.” I didn’t reply. I didn’t go looking. Instead, I slowly scrolled through my contacts, found the number I’d kept pinned at the top for three years but never called. “Kimberly. What you said to me three years ago… does it still stand?” ...... A pause on the other end, then a soft laugh, edged with something like pity. “Roger, when I give my word, it’s for life. Where are you? I’ll come get you.” “Starlight Hotel. The wedding venue.” I hung up. I looked out at the sea of guests, their eyes a mix of sympathy and mockery. For the first time, I didn’t cover for Betty. “Roger! Have you lost your mind? Do you want to make our family the city’s laughingstock?” Rebecca, my future mother-in-law, stood backstage jabbing a finger at me, her face flushed with fury. There wasn’t a trace of concern for her missing daughter—only panic over a crumbling alliance of fortunes. “Mom,” I said, meeting her gaze calmly. “Do I need to remind you? Right now, standing here alone, facing all this—the one being humiliated is me.” “You!” My uncharacteristic coldness choked her. Her voice sharpened. “Betty’s just being childish! Can’t you be more mature? She’s doing this for the company! To keep a genius like Albert! You’re a grown man—can’t you understand? It’s only the eighth time! What’s one more after seven?” *What’s one more after seven?* The words twisted like a poisoned blade. Right. Seven times already. The first time, she said Albert threatened to quit—betting she wouldn’t dare sign a contract in another city on our wedding day. She went. The wedding was postponed. I told myself it was for the company’s future. The third time, she said Albert was in a foul mood—betting she wouldn’t cut off her long hair because his dog was “depressed” and needed cheering up. She cut it. She came back with uneven short hair and cried in my arms. I held her, heart aching, and told myself she cared about her people. The sixth time, she said Albert’s first love was getting married and he was heartbroken—betting she wouldn’t dare go with him as his pretend girlfriend. She went. Wearing the dress I gave her, on another man’s arm, smiling brightly in a photo on someone else’s social media. I told myself she was just too kind to say no. ... Every time, there was a “bet” and the “company.” Every time, I chose to believe. To yield. Because I loved Betty. After my mother died—after my father and the whole family cast me out, left me scrabbling in the dirt in some dark corner—she was the light that pierced my gray world. She said, “Roger, don’t be afraid. From now on, I’ll protect you.” For that light, I would have given anything. Even when she had that “accident” three years ago, urgently needing a kidney, I didn’t hesitate to give her one of mine. And what did I get? The slow, draining weakness that follows, and wedding after wedding turned into someone else’s wager. “Understanding?” I repeated the word softly, then laughed—a bleak, hollow sound. “The understanding I bought with half my life… is it really worth so little to you?” “You—” Rebecca’s face paled. Her eyes darted away, as if remembering. “Why bring that up now? It was just a kidney! We’ll compensate you later! Right now, we have to fix this mess! Go out there and tell everyone the wedding is postponed—say you’re not feeling well!” She’d even prepared my excuse. Right. Me, the “sickly one.” Not feeling well. How perfectly convenient. Just then, the lounge door opened. Betty was back. On Albert’s arm. The hem of her white wedding gown was smudged with dirt and grass stains. Her hair was disheveled, cheeks flushed an unnatural pink, as if she’d just been running. Seeing her mother and me, she paused, slipped from Albert’s hold, and hurried over. That familiar, apologetic look settled onto her face. “Roger, I’m sorry. I lost again. We… let’s postpone the wedding again, okay?” Behind her, Albert stood with a faint, lingering smile, watching me. His eyes held a victor’s smugness. He even reached up and tucked a loose strand behind Betty’s ear—a gesture so intimate, so natural, it was as if we weren’t even there. Rebecca jumped in to smooth things over. “She’s back, she’s back! See, Roger? Betty came back! She cares about you!” I looked at the three of them as if watching some clumsily staged farce. Betty, seeing my silence, reached

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

Playboy Tycoon's Purchased BRIDE

9.0

To obey his grandfather’s order, the playboy tycoon Seth Cohen had to marry the socialite and sole heiress Evonne Largent. They tied the knot and lived together under a loveless matrimony. She was obliged to marry the hottest CEO Seth Cohen to save their fallen business empire after her father fell into compulsive gambling, driving them to the verge of bankruptcy. Seth had no plan of getting entangled with his stunning and sexy wife, but every time he glanced at her, his body throbs, and he was drawn away. Evonne will do everything to stay away from him and pretend she’s not affected by the oozing sex appeal of her hot billionaire husband; however, her heart beats faster every time he is around. **** She saw the muscles move in his jaw, and she knew he was pissed. “Care to explain? Make sure it’s believable.” Seth’s voice carried a hot temper. There was a picture of her dancing on the tabletop, and Toby beside her was shirtless while Sally poured beer bottoms up straight to their mouths. “What’s there to explain?” “You’re married now,” He growled at her, throwing sharp glances. “Miss me with that bullshit.” She stood up and barely contained her anger. “There is a certain public image that needs to be maintained. You need to understand that.” He muttered sternly. “Oh, please, I’m not going to stand here drinking the dirty water you give me as you indulge yourself in the purest of wines.”

Billionaire Modern Romance

The wrong brother

Chapter 1

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