The Red Room

The Other Brother

Chapter Four :

Luca’s presence changed the Red Room in ways Brinka did not expect.

He didn’t announce himself like Excel did. He didn’t stand in the doorway and let silence do the talking. Luca knocked, lightly, like the door wasn’t locked from the outside, like she had the right to answer or refuse. The first time it happened, Brinka froze, staring at the door as if it might bite her.

“Hey,” his voice came softly through the wood. “It’s Luca. I was told I could come in.”

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to.

The door opened anyway.

Luca stepped inside, hands visible, posture relaxed. He stopped just inside the room and looked around, his brows knitting together slowly. The velvet walls, the mirrors, the heavy air. His discomfort was obvious, and for the first time since arriving here, Brinka felt something close to validation.

“So this is it,” he murmured. “The famous Red Room.”

She hugged her arms around herself. “You’ve heard of it.”

“Unfortunately.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and something softened in his eyes. Not pity. Not curiosity. Concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

The question caught her off guard.

No one had asked her that before.

“I’m alive,” she said finally.

Luca exhaled slowly. “That’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t push. He didn’t demand answers. He sat down in the chair across from the bed, leaving space between them, as if afraid to cross an invisible line.

“I won’t stay long,” he said. “I just wanted to meet you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because my brother doesn’t bring people into his life lightly. And when he does, things usually end badly.”

Her chest tightened. “Comforting.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’m trying.”

After that, he started coming back.

Sometimes he brought books, novels and poetry, nothing instructional or controlling. Sometimes music, soft and familiar, nothing that reminded her of contracts or deals. Once, he brought food from the city, not plated like a command but wrapped casually, like something shared.

With Luca, the Red Room felt less like a shrine to Excel’s control and more like a room someone could exist in.

He asked her about her childhood. About the first time she realized her voice mattered. About her mother, her fears, her dreams before money complicated everything.

Brinka found herself answering.

She didn’t mean to. It just happened. His questions weren’t sharp. They didn’t dig. They invited.

She talked about singing in her bedroom, about imagining crowds she’d never seen. About how success had always felt like a door she could almost touch but never open.

“And now?” Luca asked gently.

She hesitated. “Now I feel like I walked through the wrong door.”

He didn’t correct her. Didn’t defend Excel.

“That’s understandable,” he said quietly.

Excel walked in one evening to find them laughing.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t careless. But it was real.

The shift in the room was instant.

Excel stopped just inside the doorway, his presence cutting through the moment like a blade. Luca looked up first, his smile fading. Brinka felt it in her chest before she even turned. The weight. The pressure. The reminder of who truly controlled this space.

“You’re early,” Luca said.

Excel’s gaze moved from Luca to Brinka, lingering for half a second too long. Something dark flickered there.

“You’re overstaying,” Excel replied.

Brinka straightened instinctively.

“She’s fine,” Luca said. “We were just talking.”

Excel stepped forward. “That’s not your role.”

Luca stood. “She’s not a weapon or a ledger entry.”

Silence fell hard and heavy.

Brinka held her breath.

“Leave,” Excel said.

Luca looked at Brinka once more before moving toward the door. “I’ll see you later,” he said softly.

When the door closed, the room felt smaller.

Excel turned to her slowly. “You enjoy his company.”

It wasn’t a question.

“He treats me like a person,” she replied.

“That’s not what keeps people alive in my world.”

She met his gaze. “And cages do?”

He didn’t answer.

After that night, Excel’s visits changed.

He came more often. Stayed longer. Watched her closer. His control tightened, subtle but unmistakable. The rules didn’t change, but the way he enforced them did. His presence pressed into the room like a storm cloud waiting to break.

“You’re drifting,” he said one night.

“From what?”

“From me.”

Her heart stuttered. “You don’t own my thoughts.”

“No,” he said calmly. “But I influence them.”

She swallowed. “That scares me.”

“It should.”

Luca returned anyway.

He didn’t retreat. If anything, he became more deliberate, more careful. He spoke to Excel directly now, challenging him openly, questioning his decisions.

“This isn’t protection,” Luca said once, his voice tight. “It’s obsession.”

Excel’s expression didn’t change. “You’re projecting.”

Brinka watched them, the tension thick and ancient. She realized then that she wasn’t the cause of their conflict. She was the catalyst.

Excel had built his world on control. Luca threatened that without even trying.

Late one night, after Luca left, Excel stood closer than ever before. Close enough that Brinka could feel his breath, could sense the restraint vibrating beneath his calm.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said.

“I’m not playing,” she whispered. “I’m surviving.”

His hand lifted slightly, stopping just short of touching her face. The pause was everything.

“You don’t understand what he would cost you,” Excel said.

“And you do?”

“Yes.”

Her voice shook. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

Because if I do, I lose you.

He didn’t say it. But she felt it.

When he finally stepped back, Brinka realized something terrifying.

She still wanted Excel.

She craved his attention, his focus, the gravity of him.

But now, she wanted Luca too.

For different reasons. For safer ones.

And standing between the brothers, caught in a war she never agreed to fight, Brinka understood one truth with painful clarity.

In Excel Moretti’s world, affection was power.

And she had just become the most dangerous thing either brother could want.