Chapter 3: The Brother’s Confession

Suddenly, a pair of big hands clamped over my mouth and yanked me into the next room.

I barely had time to gasp before I was pulled back, everything spinning. The hands were rough, but not cruel. I kicked and fought like hell.

I struggled wildly. “Let go! Let me go! My fiancé is right next door!”

My voice was muffled. Panic clawed at my chest. I kicked out, desperate to break free.

“Are you sure he’s still your fiancé?”

The man’s breath was warm on my ear, sending a shiver right through me.

His words were soft, almost mocking. I caught the scent of tobacco and cologne, familiar and strange. I froze—recognizing the voice.

Of course. It was Lucas Shaw.

Lucas always made everything sound like a dare. He was the black sheep—the brother who never quite fit in. His eyes held secrets, and right now, they were locked on me.

I spun and pressed myself against the wall. “Don’t come near me. Stay away.”

The plaster was cool against my back, my heart hammering. Lucas didn’t move in. He just watched me, a tired amusement in his eyes.

He tapped ash from his cigarette, glanced at my belly, then crushed it out in the ashtray.

The move was slow, almost lazy. He blew out a stream of smoke, eyes never leaving mine. The silence between us was thick, weighted with everything unspoken.

“What’s wrong? Surprised by what you heard?”

His tone was flat, almost bored, but something sharp hid underneath. He studied me like he was searching for cracks.

I was more than surprised. I was furious.

Anger roared up inside, drowning out the fear. I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.

I’d known Jason for fifteen years. We’d been together for five. When his family lost everything, it was my family’s money that pulled him back up.

I remembered the nights he’d called me, desperate and broken. I’d done everything I could to help him. I believed in him when no one else did. Now I wished I’d let him drown.

And now, with our wedding next month, this is what he does?

It burned—how unfair it all was. I’d given him everything—my trust, my future—and this was how he paid me back.

He sent me to other men’s beds—seven of them?

The thought made me want to puke. I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting to keep it together.

I forced myself to stay calm. I couldn’t lose it. Not now.

I took a shaky breath, counting to ten. I needed answers, not a meltdown. I wouldn’t let them see me fall apart.

I had to get something out of Lucas Shaw.

He was the only one who might actually talk. I’d always sensed he was different—maybe there was a little decency left in him.

I pinched myself, over and over, working up the nerve to speak, then chickening out again.

The words jammed in my throat. I opened my mouth, closed it, tried again. Lucas just waited, watching.

Finally, he spoke first, sprawling across the sofa like he owned the place. His voice was lazy, almost teasing. I tensed, bracing myself.

“So, what do you wanna ask?”

He cocked an eyebrow, like he was daring me to say something wild.

I closed my eyes, unable to look at him, but still forced the words out:

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting tears. My voice was barely a whisper.

“How did I end up in your brothers’ beds? Why don’t I remember anything?”

The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out. I needed to know.

"Jason drugged you. You never had a clue. He’d dump you in our beds every night, then haul you home before you woke up."

He said it so casually, like he was talking about the weather. My stomach twisted.

“What kind of drug?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I instantly regretted it.

I bit my lip, wishing I could take it back. Lucas just shrugged, like it didn’t matter at all.

“What else could it be?”

His eyes were cold, almost pitying. I looked away, feeling both ashamed and furious.

“Why are you telling me all this? Aren’t you afraid Jason and your brothers will lose out?”

I searched his face for some sign of guilt, but found nothing. He just smirked.

He let out a cold laugh. “He’s not worthy to be my brother. Besides…”

His mouth twisted into a half-smile. There was something dangerous in his eyes. I felt my skin prickle.

He stood up slowly, then yanked me onto his lap.

The move was sudden, rough. I gasped, hands braced against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, infuriatingly calm.

“There’s a good chance the baby you’re carrying is mine. So I…”

His voice dropped to a whisper, lips brushing my ear. The intimacy made my skin crawl.

I slapped him hard.

The sound cracked through the air, sharp and satisfying. My hand tingled with the force of it.

“Get lost!”

I spat the words, glaring at him. For a moment, he looked surprised—then something dark flickered in his eyes.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he pinned my hands down.

His grip was firm, but not cruel. I struggled, but he didn’t let go.

“Whitney, you didn’t feel a thing the first few times. How about tonight?”

His words dripped with suggestion. I felt sick.

I didn’t let him finish. My knee slammed into his groin.

He doubled over, cursing under his breath. I didn’t wait for him to recover.

He finally let go, wincing in pain.

I scrambled off his lap, backing toward the door. My hands shook, but I refused to show fear.

But as I turned to leave, he whispered,

His voice was low, almost conspiratorial. I paused, heart pounding.

“Want to destroy Jason?”

The offer hung in the air—tempting, dangerous. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t say no, either.