The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 9: Chapter 9: The Confrontation

I didn’t sleep after that call. By six in the morning, I was standing on James’s doorstep, fist raised, my whole body vibrating with something too jagged to call just anger.

Lucian opened the door before I could knock, already dressed, keys in hand, shadows under his eyes that matched mine.

"Eliora." He blinked, surprised. "It’s early."

"We need to talk," I said, pushing past him into the entryway.

He led me to the study without a word, and the second the door clicked shut, I turned on him.

"You texted him," I said.

"Who?" Lucian asked, though something guarded crossed his face.

"Don’t," I snapped, my voice cracking. "Don’t do that. Ezra. He told me you threatened him. What did you say to him, Lucian?"

"I saw you outside that coffee shop. The day you met him. You looked like you were about to be sick, and then you got in your car and just sat there, not moving, for almost ten minutes."

"You followed me?"

"I followed him," he said. "When he left. I wanted to know who’d put that look on your face."

My stomach turned cold.

"You followed a stranger through the city because I looked upset in a parking lot."

"Yes."

"That’s insane."

"I know how it sounds."

"How much did you give him?"

"I told him if he touched you again, if he sent one more photo anywhere, I’d make sure everyone he owed money to found out exactly where he was hiding. Then I paid him. Fifteen thousand. It’s done. He won’t be a problem anymore."

"Fifteen..." My voice cracked. "He asked for ten. You gave him fifteen?"

"I wanted him gone for good

I stared at him. "You paid him? On top of threatening him?"

"It’s not a big deal," Lucian said quietly. "I have it. He’s gone. That’s all that matters."

"Not a big deal," I repeated, my voice rising. "You handed a blackmailer fifteen thousand dollars of your own money, and you’re telling me it’s not a big deal?"

"I didn’t want him coming back."

"That’s not the point!" I stepped closer. "Do you think I’m weak? Because I’ve dealt with men like him before, Lucian. I’ve dealt with worse. I know exactly how to survive someone trying to control me. I learned that a long time ago, from someone far more dangerous than Ezra ever was."

He went still. "What do you mean?"

"My father," I said, my voice breaking, some old wound splitting open before I could stop it. "My father used to make my mother disappear into herself for days. I watched it happen for years before he ever went to prison. So don’t stand there and act like you’re the only person in this room who knows how to survive someone dangerous."

"Eliora..." he started.

"Don’t try to water this down," I cut him off. "I’m not fragile. I’m not some woman who needs a man to swoop in and hand out fifteen thousand dollars because I couldn’t possibly manage myself."

"I know that," Lucian said quietly. "I’ve never once thought you were fragile."

"Then why do it?"

"Because I care about you," he said, his voice softer now. "That’s the whole reason. Not because I think you’re weak. Because I couldn’t sit still knowing someone was hurting you and do nothing about it."

"That’s not your decision to make."

"I know it isn’t." His voice dropped further, rough at the edges. "But you have to understand... the second I found out, something in me just went quiet and cold, and acting was the only thing that made that feeling stop."

"How exactly do you know how to handle men like that, Lucian?" I asked. "Because that’s not normal. Normal people don’t follow strangers through the city. Normal people don’t make threats sound like promises, then casually admit to handing over fifteen thousand dollars like it’s bus fare. Where did you learn that?"

He opened his mouth, and for one unguarded second, something almost slipped out.

Then he stopped himself, his jaw clicking shut.

"That’s not something I can explain right now," he said finally.

"Of course it isn’t," I said bitterly. "It never is with you."

"Eliora, that’s not fair," he said, his voice tight with frustration.

"None of this is fair!" The words tore out of me louder than I meant them to. "I didn’t ask you to follow him. I didn’t ask you to pay him. I didn’t ask you to decide, all on your own, what I could and couldn’t survive. Why do you keep inserting yourself into my life like you have some kind of right to it?"

"Because I care about you," he said again, softer this time. "I know that’s not a good enough reason. I know it doesn’t erase the fact that I went behind your back. But I couldn’t watch you carry that alone and do nothing."

"That’s not your call to make."

"I know," he said quietly.

"Then why do you keep making it?"

He didn’t answer.

The silence stretched long enough that I could hear my own pulse in my ears. My eyes burned, and a tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I turned away, furious at my own body for betraying me.

"Eliora." His voice had gone soft, careful. "Hey. Look at me."

"Don’t," I whispered, pressing the back of my hand against my mouth. "I don’t need you to fix this too."

"I’m not trying to fix anything," he said gently. "I just hate that you’re crying because of something I did to try to protect you."

"That’s the point, Lucian. You don’t get to protect me, make me cry in the same breath, and call it care."

He reached for me anyway, and some old instinct made me flinch back before he even made contact.

"Don’t touch me right now," I said. "I mean it."

He froze, his hand dropping slowly back to his side, hurt flickering openly across his face.

"Okay," he said softly.

"It’s not what you think," I said, swiping angrily at my face. "It’s that I can’t tell anymore where you helping me ends and you controlling the situation begins. And I need to be the one who decides that. Not you."

"You’re right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hear you."

"I need to go."

"Eliora..."

"I need to go," I said again, already moving toward the door.

He didn’t follow me.

I heard him say my name once more, low and broken, as the front door swung shut behind me.

I sat in my car in his driveway for a long, silent minute before I trusted myself enough to drive.

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