Follow
Chapters
Share
The wrong brother Novel Cover

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
Share

Chapter 6

Lauren's pov,

The road to the airport was quiet, except for the wind ripping past my ears. Vivian had her sunglasses on, and her hands were firm on the wheel, the music played softly and it all felt normal.

I slowly pulled out my ring and replaced it back on my finger, then Vivian's phone started ringing.

"Can you get that for me?" She said over the hum of the engine.

I reached for the phone, but the screen flashed "Unknown number". I hesitated for a second, before swiping to answer.

"Hello" I said,

The call was silent at first–static, till a familiar voice which I hadn't heard in weeks came through.

"Baby... are you both at the airport already?"

My heart froze. I knew the voice and I could boldly say it was my husband's.

My eyes widened as I stared at the phone like a cursed object. I thought I was choking; for a moment there I could barely breathe.

I slowly cleared my throat and shoved the phone against Vivian's ear.

She glanced at me, with a flicker of confusion crossing her face before smiling lightly and whispered.

"Hey... yeah, we're almost there," Her tone was calm, way too calm. "Alright, see you soon,"

The monster ended the call, I felt the air in the car shift. Tension filled the air as I stared at her and down to her phone.

I waited a while before asking, quietly, "Who was that?"

Vivian shrugged, brushing away the air strand from her face.

"Oh, that?" She stammered, "It's one of the guys from the other night," she added, casually.

She stared back at me and proceeded to mutter. "Don't act so judgy– I have no idea why your face is that way, but while you were having your fun, I was having mine."

"With my husband?" I smiled,

"Girl-" Vivian gasped, immediately stepping on the brakes, "Stop it, look here, no matter how bad it is, I would never-ever go near your husband."

I quickly smiled like nothing was wrong, "I was just joking–" I muttered.

"Oh girl-" she sighed

I forced a small laugh, but inside my stomach was twisted. My chest felt heavy and my hands were utterly cold, I turned towards the window as I watched the blur of the road fade into grey.

All I could think about was the voice I heard– how soft it sounded and how familiar it was. I knew I was wrong to accuse her, but my mind couldn't be playing tricks on me–not with that voice.

I smiled faintly at Vivian, pretending everything was fine. But in that moment, I knew something was not right and I was ready to get to the bottom of it.

________

It had been a week since my trip– the one I went wild in, but at the moment sleep was a luxury I could barely afford.

I found myself tossing in my bed, staring at the ceiling as the clock clicked endlessly.

I was able to attend to my mother for a few days, but my husband– he began coming home late, worse than the very beginning– Sometimes, I woke up to an empty bed, he never came home and any time he did, the smell of perfume which wasn't mine lingered faintly on his clothes.

I wasn't the type to keep tabs but here I was, trying to keep one. I thought I could fix it , I mean maybe we could go back to how we started.

The little dates and all, I knew I wasn't innocent and still I still had my doubts about Vivian and my husband, but that night it was different.

The house was quiet– way to quiet, I stared at my phone before tilting my neck towards the clock. I tried to call Vivian but there was no answer.

I frowned and tried again but the result was the same as the first. The same way Vivian knew me, so did I. I knew she was either fucking or asleep, but my mind already had an answer of its own.

Out of habit, I immediately dialed my husband's number next. It rang.. and rang.. until the call was cut off.

My mind was already playing a fast one in me– Was Vivian really having an affair with my husband?

My chest tightened as the silence pressed against me like a weight. I knew I couldn't get mad, I wasn't a saint– my secrets were still welled up in Athens and the best way to free my mind was to either try sleeping or rather distract myself.

My mind proceeded to drift back to Athens, the crazy hookup I had. From the hotel room, the dimlights, and the man with the strong hands and kind eyes. I laughed softly at myself as I realized I couldn't even recall his name. But the memory... The way he had touched me, the way I had felt wanted– it was the best I had ever felt in my life.

I slowly closed my eyes, as I sunk into the feeling, this time it wasn't porn rather my imagination giving me the depth of every single thing I had enjoyed.

My breath deepened, and my fingers traced slowly and delicate circles over my nipples, exactly the way he teased me with his tongue. My fingers slowly traced down to my panties as I felt my loneliness melt into warmth, my body had recalled every single moment I wished I had forgotten.

I was just about to hit climax, when I heard the front door getting opened.

My heart skipped a bit, I froze for a second, pulling a sheet over my chest as I listened. Laughter echoed faintly from downstairs– they were two male voices.

I panicked– my husband never told me he was having a visitor over, I quickly scrambled out of bed, slid into my night robe and hurried gently down the stairs.

At the base of the stairs, I saw him– Ezra, walking in with another man. They were both laughing at some kind of shred joke, their voices were casual and comfortable.

My husband turned slightly when he noticed me. "Oh hey, honey," he said, smiling faintly as he closed in on me and landed a peck on my cheek– I guess this was the first affectionate thing I had felt from him in a while.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

But my mind wasn't on him, not at all.

My eyes were locked in on the stranger beside him– he wasn't a stranger to me anymore, because he had done what my husband couldn't.

I felt the world go still the moment our gaze met– Ezra's words faded out as my stomach dropped. Their laughter faded as it got replaced by a sickening rush of heartbeat.

Right in front of me stood the man from the night, the one who took his time to ruin me in and out even if I could barely recall his name.

I thought my heart had already gone through its strain this week, but nothing could have prepared me for what I heard next.

"Please meet Ezekiel– my brother,"

Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
Open the Official Website

You may also like

After Dumping Him, I Found Myself Novel Cover
8.9
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.
Bought as a bride by a man I hated Novel Cover
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.
He Risked My Life to Make His Mistress Famous Novel Cover
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.
His Illness Was A Weapon Novel Cover
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."
Memories have dried up my true feelings Novel Cover
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
Playboy Tycoon's Purchased BRIDE Novel Cover
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.”