The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Amara Learns

I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of water running.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was higher than mine. The light coming through the windows was softer, filtered through gauzy curtains. I sat up on the couch and looked around.

Lucian’s apartment.

Not a penthouse. Not a mansion. Just a two bedroom rental with hardwood floors and good bones. Or it used to have good bones. Now the shelves were empty. The walls were bare where frames had hung. The dining table was gone, replaced by a folding card table with chipped paint.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"I didn’t know you had your own place."

Lucian walked out of the kitchen holding two mugs. He was wearing sweatpants and a white T shirt that clung to his ribs. Fresh bruises peeked above the collar.

"I moved out at nineteen. Before Dad married your mom. I needed space."

"But I thought..." I stopped. I took the mug he offered. It was warm against my palms. "I thought you lived with them. Since the wedding."

He sat down on the folding chair across from me. He shook his head.

"I visit. I eat dinner. I play the role. But I don’t sleep there." His gaze lingered on the empty spaces. "This was my mother’s furniture. Most of it, anyway. I sold the rest."

The coffee was bitter. I sipped it anyway.

"It’s a nice place. Even empty."

"It was nicer before." He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Before I turned it into a storage unit for my own ghosts."

From the bedroom, I could hear Amara’s soft breathing. Noah was asleep on an air mattress in the corner, his back to the room.

Lucian leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Friday," he said quietly. "I meet them. I hand over the two hundred thousand. They sign a release. It’s finished, Eliora. No more monthly payments. No more threats. It’s over."

I looked at him. His face was calm. Too calm. Like a man reciting a prayer he didn’t believe in.

"And if they don’t sign?"

"They will." He reached across the space between us and took my hand. His fingers were warm and steady, but his thumb tapped a rapid rhythm against my knuckles. "They want the money more than they want to keep chasing us. It’s business. Not personal."

I wanted to believe him. I could see how much he needed me to believe him.

So I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated.

He squeezed my hand, then stood. "I’m going to shower. Try to get some more sleep. You look exhausted."

He walked toward the bathroom. The door clicked shut. The water started again.

I sat there, holding the mug, listening to the silence of the apartment. It was the silence of a house that had already been emptied of its life. A house waiting for its owner to finally let go.

My hand was shaking.

I set the mug down and pulled out my phone. I scrolled to Priya’s name. My thumb hovered over the call button.

If I told her, I was dragging her in. If I didn’t, I was walking into Friday with nothing but Lucian’s prayer and a checkbook.

I pressed call.

She answered on the second ring, her voice thick with sleep.

"Eliora? It’s six in the morning."

"I’m sorry," I whispered. I walked to the window, keeping my voice low. "I need your help. The hospital. The pathology lab. The night I told you about, with the men in suits. I need the security footage."

Priya was quiet. I heard her shifting.

"You told me that was a stress dream."

"It wasn’t. And I’m in trouble, Priya. Real trouble. Men with debts and threats. I need proof that they were there. Something solid. Something I can take to a lawyer."

"Eliora..."

"Please." My voice cracked. "You’re the only person I trust who has access. Please."

A long pause. Then a sigh.

"Meet me at the hospital. North entrance. Thirty minutes. Bring a flash drive."

"I don’t have one."

"Then buy one. And coffee. Strong coffee."

She hung up.

I looked at the bathroom door. The water was still running. Lucian was inside, believing his own lie, washing off another layer of himself.

I grabbed my jacket and wrote a note on a napkin.

Gone for breakfast. Back soon.

I left it on the coffee table.

I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t lie to his face again.

⸻

Priya was waiting outside the north entrance in her scrubs, a coffee in each hand. She thrust one at me as I approached. Her eyes scanned my face, my swollen eyes, my tangled hair, the jacket I’d slept in.

"You look like hell," she said.

"I feel like it."

She didn’t ask questions. She just turned and walked into the hospital. I followed.

The security office was in the basement, tucked behind the loading dock. Priya used her resident keycard to open the first door. The second door had a keypad. She punched in a code without looking at me.

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I dated a guy in IT for three months. He showed me things."

She sat at the monitor.

"What night?"

"March fourteenth. Pathology hall. Around midnight."

She typed. The screen flickered. A file directory opened. She clicked through folders, her fingers moving fast.

"Here," she murmured. "Camera two. Pathology wing."

The footage loaded.

The hallway was dim. Empty. The time stamp read 11:47 PM. I saw myself walking toward the lab. I looked so young. So stupid. So unaware.

Then the door at the end of the hall burst open.

Three men. Suits. The leader with the scar under his left eye. They moved fast, checking doors, hands inside their jackets. I watched myself freeze in the frame. I watched myself lie to them. I watched them leave.

Then I watched Lucian slip out the side exit, bleeding, limping, disappearing into the dark.

"There," Priya whispered. "That’s them."

"Can you copy it?"

She pulled a flash drive from her scrub pocket and plugged it in. The files transferred with a soft ticking sound. I watched the progress bar fill, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Eliora," Priya said quietly. "Who are these people?"

"Bad people," I said. "And I need to stop them before Friday."

She turned to look at me. Her face was pale.

"What happens Friday?"

I opened my mouth to answer.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out. A text from Lucian.

Where are you?

Then another, before I could type back.

They called. The meeting moved up. It’s not Friday anymore.

Then a third.

My blood turned to ice.

It’s today. They’re outside the apartment. Get back. Now.

The flash drive ejected with a soft ping.

Priya’s eyes were wide.

"Eliora?"

I grabbed the drive and shoved it into my pocket.

"I have to go."

"What’s happening?"

I didn’t answer. I ran.

The hallway blurred. The stairs. The lobby. The cold morning air hit my face like a slap.

I pulled out my phone. I dialed Lucian. It rang once. Twice.

He answered on the third ring. His voice was low. Tight. Terrified.

"Eliora," he said. "Don’t come back. They’re already inside."

The line went dead.

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