Falling For My Brother: A Billionaire’s Secret

Mia: The first time I realized a person could be surrounded by happiness and still feel completely alone, I was standing beneath a chandelier worth more than most people’s houses, wearing a black ball gown, and watching the man I loved smile at a future we would never have. “Smile, darling.” My mother’s voice reached me just before the photographer’s flash went off. I smiled. Of course, I smiled. I had been smiling for nearly two hours, and apparently, I was getting very good at it. The ballroom glittered with gold lights and crystal decorations. White roses spilled from tall glass vases, champagne flowed freely, and a string quartet played something soft and romantic near the staircase. Everywhere I looked, people were laughing, raising glasses, and congratulating my father on what he called a beautiful family milestone. My engagement party. My engagement party, which was supposed to be the happiest night of my life. “Look at you two!” one of my father’s friends exclaimed, approaching us with his wife. “A perfect couple. Adrian, I hope you understand how lucky you are.” Adrian slipped an arm around my waist and drew me closer. “Every day,” he replied. The answer came so easily. So honestly. I nearly stopped breathing. He turned his head and brushed his lips against my temple, and the familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around me. His hand rested against my bare back, warm and reassuring. I knew that touch. I knew the way his thumb moved absentmindedly against my skin whenever he was comfortable. I knew how his eyes softened whenever he looked at me, as though the rest of the world had become a minor inconvenience. I knew the man I loved. That was what made this unbearable. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” His friend’s wife squeezed my hand. “You make such a beautiful bride-to-be.” “Thank you,” I whispered. She smiled and moved away, leaving us beneath the ballroom lights. Adrian looked down at me. “What’s wrong?” My heart stumbled. “Nothing.” He raised an eyebrow. “That was a terrible lie, Mia.” Under any other circumstances, I would have laughed. I would have rolled my eyes and accused him of being annoyingly observant. He would have teased me until I gave in, and the evening would have continued with nothing more serious than a stolen kiss behind one of the decorated pillars. But tonight, I couldn’t find the energy to pretend that everything was normal. So I looked away. “I’m tired, that’s all.” His expression changed immediately. “We can leave.” “Adrian—” “I mean it.” He glanced toward the guests. “I’ll tell your father we need some time alone. We don’t have to stay just because he spent a fortune making the place look like a palace.” A small, broken laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “There she is,” he murmured, smiling. Then he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Come on, baby. Talk to me.” Baby. One word. That was all it took to remind me of the mornings I’d woken up tangled in his arms, the late-night calls that somehow lasted until sunrise, the ridiculous arguments over food, and the quiet moments when he would rest his head against my lap while I played with his hair. It reminded me of the private proposal I’d said yes to with tears in my eyes. It reminded me of the future we’d discussed as if wanting something badly enough could guarantee we would get it. And it reminded me that I had to end all of it. I looked past his shoulder. Across the ballroom, my father stood with two politicians and a businessman whose name I couldn’t remember. He wore his usual confident smile, shaking hands and accepting congratulations. Every few minutes, someone mentioned how wonderful it was to see his only daughter settling down. My mother stood nearby, beautiful in a champagne-colored dress, her smile perfectly arranged. If someone looked closely enough, they might have noticed that she hadn’t touched her glass of wine. They might have noticed that my father hadn’t looked at her for longer than a few seconds at a time. They might have noticed the tension hidden beneath all that elegance. But nobody was looking closely. Nobody ever did when the people involved were rich enough to make their problems look like decorations. “Your parents have been acting strange,” Adrian said quietly. My gaze snapped back to him. “What?” “Your mother looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. Your father has checked his phone about twenty times, and he nearly bit someone’s head off when they asked him about the wedding date.” I stared at him. He noticed everything. Everything except the one thing that could ruin us both. “Maybe they’re overwhelmed,” I managed. “Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. Then the orchestra changed its tune, and a voice came through the speakers, announcing that the newly engaged couple should make their way to the dance floor. A round of applause followed. Adrian held out his hand. “May I have this dance?” I stared at his palm for a moment too long. This hand had held mine through every uncertainty I’d ever confessed to him. It had wiped my tears, carried my shopping bags, and reached for me in the middle of the night when he thought I was asleep. I wanted to take it. God, I wanted to take it. Instead, I placed my hand in his. He led me to the center of the ballroom, where the lights seemed softer and the crowd seemed farther away. His arm settled around my waist, and mine rested against his shoulder. For a few seconds, we simply moved together. “You’re beautiful tonight,” he whispered. I swallowed. “You’ve told me that already.” “Then I’ll tell you again.” “Adrian…” “Hmm?” I looked at him, really looked at him, trying to memorize the details I had always taken for granted. The faint crease between his brows. The dark eyes that could make boardroom executives nervous but had never made me feel small. The slight curve of his mouth whenever he was about to say something that would annoy me. He was thirty-two, a man who had built an empire of hotels, resorts, properties, and entertainment businesses. A man who could walk into a room and command attention without raising his voice. Yet when he looked at me, I never felt like the least important person in it. “I love you,” I said. His smile softened. “I love you too, Mia.” “You don’t even know how much.” “Then spend the rest of your life showing me.” The words struck somewhere deep inside me. He said them with such certainty. No hesitation. No doubt. As if the rest of our lives were already waiting for us somewhere beyond tonight. My throat tightened. “Adrian, I need to tell you something.” His hand paused against my back. “Okay.” I drew in a breath, but it caught halfway. He leaned closer, his expression turning serious. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” That was the problem. I could tell him anything. I had told him things I’d never told my best friend. I’d admitted my fears, my selfish thoughts, my ridiculous insecurities. I’d allowed him to see the parts of me I usually kept locked away. But there was no gentle way to tell the man you loved that the future he’d been dreaming about was impossible. There was no right moment to tell him that the woman he’d chosen was also the daughter of the woman who had given birth to him. And there was no way to say it without watching something inside him break. I couldn’t do that here. Not beneath the chandelier. Not while strangers lifted their phones to capture our happiness. Not while my father watched from across the room, silently begging me to preserve the family’s carefully constructed image. The song continued. Adrian brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Hey,” he murmured. “You’re shaking.” “I know.” “Do you want to sit down?” “No.” “Then tell me what’s happening.” I closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them, he was still looking at me with that familiar patience. He was waiting for me to trust him with whatever had frightened me. I hated myself for what I was about to do. But I hated the thought of marrying him even more—not because I didn’t love him, but because I did. Because if I stayed, we would be building a marriage on a truth that could never be undone. Because no matter how much I loved him, love couldn’t change our blood. The song was nearing its end. I tightened my fingers around his shoulder and rose slightly onto my toes, bringing my mouth close to his ear. “Adrian?” “Yes, baby?” My heart broke before the words even left my mouth. “Let’s break up.” He went completely still. For one suspended second, the music seemed to disappear. His arm remained around my waist, but his hand no longer moved. When I pulled back enough to see his face, the smile was gone. He stared at me as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “What?” I forced myself to hold his gaze. “Let’s break up.” His eyes searched mine, looking for the punchline, the explanation, anything that would make those words less real. “Mia, what the hell are you talking about?” A few feet away, people were still clapping to the music. Someone laughed. Glasses clinked. Our engagement party carried on around us, blissfully unaware that the groom-to-be had just been told he was losing his bride. Adrian lowered his voice. “Is this a joke?” I shook my head. His jaw tightened. “Then tell me what’s going on.” I couldn’t. He looked at me for another moment, and the confusion in his face slowly gave way to something that hurt even more. Fear. “Mia,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. “Look at me.” I was already looking at him. “Whatever happened, whatever you’re thinking, we can talk about it. You don’t get to stand here and tell me we’re over without giving me a reason.” My lips parted. Nothing came out. He searched my face again, and I watched the man who had never been afraid of anything begin to realize that he might not be able to talk his way out of this. “Please,” he whispered. “Tell me what I did.” That nearly destroyed me. Because he hadn’t done anything. And because the truth was going to hurt him anyway. I lowered my eyes, unable to bear the look on his face for another second. Behind us, the orchestra began another song. The party continued. And the man I had promised forever to stood before me, waiting for an explanation I wasn’t sure either of us would survive.