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 5

Lauren pov,

I never thought Greece would be this fun–I thought I was going to spend it all indoors, but here I was being treated like a queen in her castle, new jewelry especially and clothes which were not charged from my credit card. The sex has been so good–I wished it never ended.

The sex in the pool was my best so far–it was marvellous, taking in his full cock underneath the waters as we watched the view, it was crazy.

Here I was receiving morning kisses, and head– I had no idea when the third morning came, I wasn't bothered because my vacation was meant for a seven day streak.

The third morning came with steam rising around us. The bathroom mirror was fogged, as I stared at my mild reflection getting spanked from the back. The tiled walls were slick and condensed with my hands pressed upon the walls.

His strokes plummeted into me as I tried to gasp for air underneath the shower head, just when I thought I was hitting my climax, he turned me around and lifted my feet above the floor–finally spreading my legs around his waist as I took in his big fat cock, he was slow, gentle– my legs tightened around him as I felt the climax... "I'm cum...ING.." I screeched.

His pace increased, slamming into me as his eyes decided to maintain contact with mine, those stares were deep piercing into my soul–my heart shivered underneath the hot shower with our lips kissing. Then I felt it, his warm jitters hitting the walls of my vagina. He slowly slipped out of me– but my legs were so sore I couldn't walk.

He carried me into the tub–taking his time to clean every single part of my body-I felt loved again, wishing my husband could just be him instead.

His fingers traced a lazy circle on my nipple as the water came down over our skin.

I wasn't ashamed–instead I loved it. I felt his eyes waver around me–heavy and searching as it lingered longer than ever before.

"What?" I whispered with a nervous laugh, as I brushed off droplets from my eyelashes.

"Nothing, Ophelia." He muttered, though his gaze didn't waver.

But I could feel it–he wasn't just staring at my body. He was studying me and memorizing me– he was enjoying it all like I was more than a fling and a stranger.

And that sent terrifying shocks through my spine.

____

By noon, we were both seated across from each other at a quiet restaurant, sunlight poured through the glass walls, and the world outside rushed past–meanwhile it felt like time stalled in between us.

The meal was light– fresh seafood, and a glass of white wine– I was almost comfortable until his question came in, low but deliberate:

"Are you married?"

The sudden slip of the fork in my hand, almost gave me away. My heart slammed against my ribs, as I stared at him trying to hide every single guilt from the question.

"What?" I almost choked, forcing a laugh I didn't feel.

His eyes didn't move, they were steady, waiting for my answer.

Panic rose within me the moment I stared down at my hand and there it was. My wedding ring. I hadn't taken it off.

I felt the bile of heat flood my cheeks and with a quick breath, I composed a smile, the kind that hid more than it revealed.

"No... ohh, I guess you just saw this." I said pointing at my ring. "I just like wearing it. It helps in keeping away the ones who only want to play with my heart." I whispered, sliding the ring off my finger and with a deliberate motion, my fingers trembled as I dropped it into my purse.

I didn't dare to look back up until I was sure my lie had landed safely.

He responded with a slow, unreadable nod, as I let out a slow sigh of relief. My chest was at ease, but only for that moment.

Because that was when my phone buzzed.

I excused myself, clutching the device against my breast like a life line as I stepped away from the table. My husband's name flashed on the screen. For a split second, I thought– maybe he misses me. Maybe he's calling to ask when I'll be coming back home–but I guess your imagination does not always rhyme with reality.

His voice was clipped, cold and audacious. "Lauren. Where did you keep your Goddamn phone? Your mother is sick and they've been trying to reach you!!"

I felt my eyes roll, like the ground beneath me. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, as my throat tightened up against me.

"I–I've been busy..." I stammered

"Busy?" He snapped. "You know what? Just call your family. They need you."

Just like that the line went dead.

I stood frozen for a brief while, my reflection stared back at me in the restaurant's polished glass. My chest ached so sharply I felt my fingers go numb as it hurt to breathe.

I didn't know what to feel–Guilt or hatred?

I switched off my phone, as I returned to the table. I forced a smile as if nothing had happened.

"Are you okay?" He asked,staring at me deeply

I nodded " It's work, nothing much..." I said, locking away the pain I felt within me.

That night I made a decision–I was going to leave by morning, funny how I didn't care to know the name of this stranger–but was ready to make my last night here with it.

We both tangled up in the sheets once more, every touch was desperate, every kiss was soaked. His body pressed into mine, his voice was something I wanted to recall over my ears–I didn't want to think of what next, I was living in the moment.

And when it was all over, I laid beside him trembling and breathless as I savoured the moment of silence–But I knew I couldn't stay a day longer.

___

Mr stranger was still fast asleep when I texted Vivian to come pick me up at the address–and about our plans of leaving Greece.

'Don't be late.' I cautioned.

I guess she wasn't asleep yet as her message popped back at me.

'on it. And girl-you owe me some juicy details'

By sunrise, I was already dressed, my heart was heavy with secrets as I took in one last glance of his beautiful features. He was still asleep, I leaned in to give him a farewell kiss– I was successful because he was drained from last night.

Vivian text came in, it was a picture of her at my address, I knew I needed to leave before he woke.

The moment I stepped out, she took one look at me with a raised brow, but said nothing as we both drove to the airport.

I clutched my purse tight, my ring was still inside– as I felt the weight of my guilt creep back into my chest.

This was supposed to be the end–but I guess fate was playing a fast one on me.

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 5

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