The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Ezra’s Threats

"Eliora, wait up!"

I turned in the hospital hallway, my scrubs still slightly damp from the morning’s heavy caseload. Priya jogged toward me, clutching a coffee in one hand and her tablet in the other.

"You look like death," she said cheerfully. "Late night again?"

I forced a smile. "Something like that."

The truth was I hadn’t slept well since the family dinner. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lucian’s face across the table... the way his fingers had brushed mine, the way he’d looked at me like my name was a secret between us.

Priya fell into step beside me. "You’ve been weird since that dinner with your mom’s new husband. Spill."

"It’s nothing. Just adjusting to the new family dynamic."

"New stepbrother dynamic, you mean." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Is he hot?"

"Priya."

"That’s not a no."

We turned toward the residents’ lounge when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting my mother.

It wasn’t.

Unknown number: We need to talk. I still have the photos. Meet me after your shift or I send them to your new stepdad and everyone else.

My stomach dropped.

"Everything okay?" Priya asked.

"Yeah," I lied, shoving the phone back into my pocket. "Just work stuff."

⸻

The coffee shop smelled like burnt espresso and cinnamon, making my stomach turn the moment I walked in. Ezra was already in the corner booth, one arm draped along the seat, a half-finished latte leaving a wet ring on the table.

"Eliora," he said with the same smug smile. "You look good. Marriage clearly agrees with your mother."

"You’ve been keeping tabs on my family," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. "That’s new. And disgusting."

"I keep tabs on a lot of things," he said, swirling the last of his coffee. "It’s a hobby."

"What do you want?"

"Ten thousand. Quick."

"I already paid you once."

"Plans change." He leaned forward, close enough that I caught the sour smell of stale coffee on his breath. "You have no idea what kind of people I owe money to. Real people. The kind who don’t send polite texts. If I don’t pay them, I start selling what I have left. And what I have left is you, in high definition, tagged with your full name."

My pulse hammered in my throat. "You wouldn’t."

"Try me." His eyes flicked toward the window. "I’ve thought about who to send them to first. Your mother, maybe... on her honeymoon. Or James... men like that care about appearances. Or your new stepbrother. What’s his name? Lucian?"

His smile widened at whatever flashed across my face.

"There it is. That’s the one that got to you."

"Leave him out of this," I said too quickly, my voice cracking.

"Interesting," Ezra said softly. "I’ll keep that in mind."

I stood so fast the booth scraped against the floor, drawing a glance from the barista.

"Delete them. All of them. Or I go to the police."

"With what proof?" He didn’t even sit up straighter. "I’ll be the heartbroken ex who kept some pictures. You’ll be the girl who let herself be photographed. Think about who people believe, Eliora. Then think about tomorrow, eight o’clock, the usual spot. Don’t be late."

I walked out before he could see how badly my hands were shaking.

⸻

The drive home blurred past streetlights and red signals I barely registered. My phone buzzed again before I’d even parked.

Ezra: Tick tock, Eliora. Clock’s running.

I sat in the car for a long time, my forehead resting against the steering wheel.

I couldn’t tell my mother... she was finally happy. I couldn’t tell James. And I definitely couldn’t tell Lucian, not when he already had enough weighing him down.

I was completely alone with this. I’d been alone with it for months, and I was tired of carrying it by myself.

⸻

That night, my phone lit up.

Unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

"Hello?"

"Eliora."

Lucian’s voice. Low. Steady. My chest tightened at the sound.

"How did you get my number?"

"Family group chat," he said. "I saw you leave a coffee shop earlier. You looked like you’d seen a ghost."

I gripped the phone tighter. "It’s nothing."

"It didn’t look like nothing."

"My ex," I heard myself say. "He’s causing problems."

A pause, longer this time.

"What kind of problems?"

"The kind I can handle."

"Eliora."

Just my name... but it landed heavier than any question.

"I’m fine. Really."

"You keep saying that word like it means something," he said quietly. "If you need anything, call me. Anytime."

"I won’t," I said, even though part of me wanted nothing more than to keep him on the line.

"You might," he said, and hung up.

I sat there, phone warm against my palm, my heart pounding for reasons that had stopped, somewhere in that call, having anything to do with Ezra.

⸻

Ezra texted again the next morning while I stood in the break room.

Ezra: Tomorrow, 8 p.m. The usual spot. Don’t be late, or everyone finds out what kind of girl you really are.

My stomach turned to ice. I set the phone face-down, but not fast enough.

"Eliora?" Priya reached for it before I could stop her. "Who’s texting you..."

My phone buzzed again before she could finish, a different name lighting the screen.

Lucian: Are you free tonight? I need to talk to you about something.

Eliora: I’m free. What’s wrong?

Lucian: Not over text. Can you come by the house? My father’s out for the evening.

Eliora: On my way.

⸻

He opened the door before I’d finished knocking.

"What’s going on?" I asked, stepping inside.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, closing the door behind me. "You’ve seemed distracted. Distracted and scared."

"I’m fine," I said automatically.

"You keep saying that," Lucian said quietly, stepping closer. "And I keep not believing you."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without thinking, and Lucian’s eyes dropped to the screen before I could stop him.

Ezra: Tomorrow, 8 p.m. Don’t be late, or everyone finds out what kind of girl you really are.

Lucian went very still.

"Who," he said, his voice suddenly low and dangerous, "is Ezra?"

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