Trapped with My Billionaire Stepbrother

POV: Ivy

By the time the Blackwood driver navigated the heavy SUV back through the iron gates of the estate, my adrenaline had completely burned out, leaving only a deep, throbbing ache radiating through my bruised hip.

Kyle stepped out first, extending his hand to help me down. I ignored his offer entirely, sliding out the opposite door and swallowing a sharp wince as my boots hit the pavement.

"You are limping," Kyle stated, his dark eyes instantly tracking my awkward, uneven stance.

"Congratulations on your flawless eyesight," I shot back, turning my back on him and limping toward the grand entrance.

"See the estate doctor," he ordered, his heavy footsteps following right behind me.

"No," I refused, gripping the heavy brass door handle. "Practice giving your corporate commands to someone who actually works for you."

I left him standing on the stone steps and walked inside. Cecilia was already waiting near the top of the grand staircase, changed into a pristine cream silk lounge set, looking as though she hadn't nearly sent me crashing into a pine tree an hour ago.

"You made quite the pathetic performance out there," Cecilia sneered, swirling a glass of sparkling water. "Thomas was mortified. A grown woman screaming on a horse."

I stopped one step below her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my leg. "You hit the horse with your crop."

"Prove it," she challenged, a smug, untouchable smile stretching across her glossy lips. "It is your word against mine, Ivy. And who do you think Kyle will believe? His oldest friend, or the gold digger trying to steal his inheritance?"

I held her gaze, refusing to let her see how much her proximity exhausted me. "That is an interesting question, considering you knew Eric's name in the clearing today."

Cecilia's flawless smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She recovered quickly, her fingers tightening around her crystal glass. "Kyle told me about him."

"Did he?" I asked, my voice dropping to a cool, flat register. "You should really focus on keeping your stories straight."

I pushed past her and limped down the corridor. I found Mr. Thorne arranging fresh lilies on a console table near the guest wing. I paused, glancing back to ensure the hallway was empty.

"Mr. Thorne, did Kyle tell Cecilia about Eric?" I asked quietly.

The head butler paused his work, his professional demeanor tightening. "Mr. Kyle explicitly instructed the entire security and household staff not to speak a single word of that night to anyone," Thorne replied, his eyes serious. "Including Miss Cecilia."

A cold thread of absolute certainty moved down my spine. I thanked him and walked away, my mind racing. Cecilia’s careless use of Eric's name no longer felt like a simple slip of upper-class gossip. It was a massive, glaring loose thread, and for the first time since the underground club, I had enough distance from my own panic to realize Kyle's childhood best friend was somehow connected to my nightmare.

The guest bathroom offered scalding hot water and a heavy brass deadbolt. I stood under the shower spray, letting the intense heat soothe my trembling muscles, but the water could not wash away the dark, ugly bruises blooming across my ribs and my wrist. I turned off the faucet. My wet foot slipped on the smooth marble as I reached for a towel.

My bruised hip slammed brutally against the unforgiving floor tiles, knocking a sharp, breathless gasp from my lungs.

The heavy bathroom door burst open, the brass lock shattering as the wood violently struck the drywall.

Kyle froze in the doorway. I sat on the wet marble, completely naked, shivering, and entirely exposed.

His gaze swept over my dripping skin, snagging immediately on the violent purple marks staining my ribs and my shoulder. The arrogant, icy hostility I was so used to seeing on his face vanished entirely, replaced by a dark, terrifying intensity that made my breath catch. He crossed the room in two massive strides, ripping a large bath sheet from the heated rack, and wrapped it securely around my trembling body. His large hands lingered heavily on my bare shoulders, the heat of his palms burning right through the thick white cotton.

"Who touched you?" Kyle demanded, his voice a low, lethal rasp.

His chest heaved, his dark eyes searching mine with raw, frantic concern. The sheer proximity of his body was suffocating. I could still smell the crisp winter air and cedar on his skin from the horse ride. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, a terrifying, confusing mix of vulnerability and sudden, heavy attraction pooling in my stomach. Eric had taught me that relying on a man's protection was the fastest way to get destroyed, but the way Kyle was looking at me right now made every instinct I had scream to lean into his chest.

I gritted my teeth and shoved my hands hard against him, fighting my own weakness. "Get out of here."

Kyle did not step back. His grip tightened fractionally on my shoulders, anchoring me in place. "I am not leaving until you tell me who left those bruises on your skin."

"Ask the man you still haven't managed to find," I countered, clutching the edges of the towel tightly against my chest.

Kyle's expression hardened, the lethal protector taking over. "We found Eric's apartment this morning. It was completely cleared out."

My stomach plummeted, a sudden rush of nausea killing the lingering heat between us. Eric was gone, which meant he was desperate, hiding, and completely unpredictable.

I pushed past Kyle's frozen frame, limping quickly out of the steamy bathroom before my trembling legs could give out completely.

I retreated to my cramped utility room, locking the door firmly behind me. I sat heavily on the edge of the narrow cot, pulling the towel tighter around my shoulders.

My phone screen lit up on the small desk.

It was an unknown number, but the message contained a high-resolution photograph of the glass office tower where I was supposed to start my new logistics job on Monday morning. A second text chimed immediately after.

Fifty thousand by noon tomorrow, or I walk into that lobby with every photo from the club.

My blood ran completely cold. Eric hadn't just disappeared; he was already actively hunting my future, holding the only chance I had at true independence hostage.