My Evil Stepbrother Is My Ex (English Version)

Chapter 1

ADRIANNA

As the song played through my speakers, I kept my eyes on the road leading back to Westhaven—the small town where I had grown up.

Five years.

That was how long I had stayed away before finally deciding to come home.

I hummed softly along to the music, not because the words suited my life, but because I needed something to keep me awake as the miles slipped by and the long drive began to feel endless.

(Music: “7 Rings” by Ariana Grande)

I want it, I got it, I want it, I got it

You like my hair? Gee, thanks, just bought it

I see it, I like it, I want it, I got it

It was almost ironic, really.

The song on repeat spoke of luxury, freedom, and having everything I could ever want.

And yet here I was, driving back to the town I had once left behind, because I had failed so badly at building the life I thought I was supposed to have.

In short, I was a failure.

For five years, I had lived in New York, and in all that time, I never managed to hold on to a job that felt stable or worth keeping. I never settled anywhere. I never stayed long enough to belong.

Whenever I no longer felt like continuing, I resigned.

Simple as that.

Life had taken me somewhere else—somewhere I hadn’t planned to go—and at some point, I had simply stopped fighting the direction it was pulling me in.

I went to New York and chose to work and live to the big city.

On special occasions, I still went home to be with Mama, but I never stayed long. Two days, maybe three at most. Then I would always return to the city, back to the noise, the pressure, and the life I had built out of necessity rather than peace.

Papa had been gone for a long time. He died when I was still in high school, leaving behind a silence that never really faded.

I had even tried persuading Mama to move to New York with me, but she refused. She said she wouldn’t know what to do there. At the time, I thought she was being stubborn.

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Maybe she had been wiser than I was.

Because my own life there had never turned out the way I hoped it would. And so, here I was—driving home with nothing left but exhaustion, disappointment, and a heart that had grown too tired to keep pretending.

Even now, I still didn’t fully understand myself.

Why was I like this?

Why did nothing ever feel enough?

People had told me the same things over and over again.

Life is hard.

Be grateful you have a job.

That’s already enough.

Just endure it.

At least you have income.

I had heard those words so many times that they had started to lose their meaning. But no matter how often they were repeated, they never made me feel less trapped.

I could not bear the thought of spending my life in work that drained me, surrounded by people and places that never felt like mine.

(Flashback)

“Sir, can I go home now? It’s already nine o’clock in the evening, and I’m not doing anything anymore,” I asked, my voice careful but tense, as I stood in front of my boss’s desk.

He looked up at me with a smile that made my skin crawl.

“You can go home only if you give in to me.”

The words hit me like a slap.

Then his hand moved shamelessly, and I felt my stomach twist in disgust and fear.

I didn’t wait for anything else.

I grabbed my bag and ran.

That was the last day I ever set foot in that office.

I never went back.

(Another flashback)

“Why did you hire such a beautiful secretary? Fire her. I don’t want her to be your secretary anymore.”

I stood there, frozen in humiliation, while my boss and his wife fought right in front of me.

His wife’s voice was sharp with jealousy, and even though I had done nothing wrong, I could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up my neck.

I wanted no part of their drama.

So in the end, I resigned again.

(Another flashback)

One test paper after another was dropped onto my desk for checking.

I had been hired by a university as an assistant to the professors there, and at first it had seemed like a respectable job. Quiet. Safe. Manageable.

But I had been wrong.

Soon enough, almost everyone in the faculty room treated me like their personal errand girl.

I wasn’t just checking exam papers. I was buying food, fetching things, carrying messages, and sometimes even washing the dishes and coffee cups they left behind.

By the time I left, I was exhausted in a way sleep couldn’t fix.

So I resigned again.

(Another flashback)

Next, I worked as a doctor’s assistant.

At first, I thought it might be better. More meaningful, maybe. But the clinic was always full, and the patients seemed to come in waves—feverish, coughing, weak, and miserable.

I worried constantly that I would catch something too.

I did everything I could to stay careful, but fear has a quiet way of following you around until it settles into your bones.

And so, once again, I resigned.

(Another flashback)

This time, I tried working in a call center.

But the night shifts were too much for me. My body never got used to staying awake until dawn, and after a while, it felt like I was sick more often than I was well.

I pushed myself as long as I could.

In the end, my body gave out before my will did.

So I resigned once again.

(Another flashback)

I also tried working in a bank as a bank teller.

That one should have been fine. In fact, it was probably the longest job I had ever held. I lasted ten months, which felt like a victory at the time.

But then trouble found me again.

The manager—already married—started courting me.

I wanted no part of it. No attention. No scandal. No complications waiting to ruin whatever fragile peace I still had.

So yes, I resigned again.

(Back to the Present)

Even though I kept changing jobs, I had still managed to save a little money. Mama never forced me to send her anything, so I did what I could with what I had. I was careful. Frugal. Quietly putting aside whatever scraps of stability I could manage.

I was never truly without work.

I just never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home.

The words Welcome to Westhaven greeted me as I entered town.

I kept driving, my car packed with all kinds of belongings jammed into every available space. I had already sold almost everything I owned, but somehow there was still so much left that I had forced into the car until it was nearly bursting.

At last, I was here.

I hadn’t told Mama I was coming because I wanted to surprise her.

But it looked like I was the one who got surprised instead.

Before I could even get out of the car, my eyes landed on the sign hanging near the gate of our house.

A huge FOR SALE sign had been placed there—and then, to make it even worse, someone had covered it with SOLD.

For a second, I could only stare.

Then I got out of the car and walked closer, as if moving slowly might somehow make the sight less real.

But it was real.

The gate was locked.

I couldn’t get in.

My chest tightened, cold disbelief creeping over me.

Where was Mama?