Ethan’s POV
The front door felt heavier than I remembered.
I stepped into the house I hadn’t visited in almost a year, dropping my duffel bag on the marble floor. The familiar smell of polished wood and fresh flowers hit me immediately. Everything looked the same; expensive, clean, and cold.
But I wasn’t the same.
At 22, I had spent the last year training hard, working odd jobs, and trying to stay as far away from this house as possible. Away from *her*.
“Ethan?” a voice called from upstairs.
I looked up.
Ava stood at the top of the staircase, one hand on the railing. My stepsister, who was 20 years old now.
She had changed.
Her long dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She wore a simple white tank top and tiny denim shorts that showed off her toned legs. Her body had
