My Arrogant Stepbrother

19: Ultimatum

All weekend, Chelsea’s threat hung over me like a storm cloud.

Every time my phone buzzed, I jumped. Every time Jason looked at me, I felt a pang of guilt. I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to. But the image of that photo—the way his hand lingered on mine, the closeness that screamed more than step-siblings—kept me silent.

If Chelsea released it, we wouldn’t survive the fallout. Not him, not me.

By Sunday night, I had made a decision. I would end it.

⸻

Jason found me on the porch, sitting wrapped in a blanket with a mug of tea, staring blankly at the stars.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply, leaning against the doorframe.

I didn’t look at him. “I’ve been busy.”

His low laugh held no humor. “You’re a terrible liar, Princess.”

I swallowed hard, forcing the words out before I lost my nerve. “This… whatever this is between us—it has to stop.”

Silence.

I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I kept staring at the dark sky, too afraid to see his reaction.

Finally, his voice cut through the night, sharp and cold. “Why?”

I gripped my mug tighter. “Because people are talking. Because it’s wrong. Because it’s ruining me.”

“Ruining you?” he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. “Do you think I don’t hear them too? Do you think I care what they say?”

I turned then, my chest aching. “That’s the problem, Jason. You don’t care. But I do. I can’t handle the whispers, the stares, the constant pressure. I can’t…” My voice cracked. “I can’t survive it.”

His expression shifted—anger warring with something almost like pain. “So what, you’re just going to walk away? Pretend none of this ever happened?”

My throat tightened. “Yes.”

The word shattered between us.

For a moment, Jason said nothing. His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. Then he stepped closer, his eyes fierce.

“Tell me the truth,” he demanded. “Is that what you really want? Or is this about someone else?”

I froze. Did he know? Could he sense Chelsea’s shadow hanging over me?

I shook my head quickly. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made up my mind.”

His gaze searched mine, intense and unrelenting, but I held firm. Finally, he let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“You think you can just cut this off, Olivia? Like it’s nothing?” His voice dropped, raw and dangerous. “You’re wrong. Because I’m not done with you.”

My heart twisted painfully. “Jason—”

But he was already turning, storming back into the house, the slam of the door echoing behind him.

I sank back into my chair, tears stinging my eyes.

I’d lied to him. Lied to myself. This wasn’t about whispers. This was about Chelsea, about the photo, about her threat hanging over us like a knife.

But if telling the truth meant dragging Jason down with me…

Then I’d take the fall alone.