Craving my sister’s fiancé

Chapter 25

Stefan’s POV

“My dear friend, kissing my girlfriend—who also happens to be his sister’s fiancé.” Adrian’s voice dripped with a sickly sweet satisfaction. a smug twist to his lips that made my blood run cold.

“Adrian, this isn’t—”

“What? ‘Not what it looks like’?” He cut me off, the playfulness vanishing into a sharp, jagged edge of annoyance. “Cut the crap, Stefan.”

He lunged forward, his fingers clamping around Daphne’s wrist. He yanked her toward him, marking his territory. “Daphne is mine. I’m not going to stand here and watch you help yourself with her just because you felt like it.” His eyes darkened, a predatory heat flickering in them that felt far too defensive for the situation.

“There you guys are!”

The sound of Bella’s voice sent a jolt through my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. She hurried toward us, gesturing to the colorful cups in her hands. “The ice cream is already soup.” She stopped short, her gaze flickering between our rigid postures. “What’s the matter? Is something going on?”

“That’s a brilliant question, Bella,” Adrian spat, his eyes locked on mine, daring me to flinch. “Why don’t you ask your fiancé? I’m sure he has plenty to say about what's 'going on' here.”

The air felt thick, suffocating. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth.

“It’s nothing, Bella,” Daphne interjected, her voice trembling slightly but holding firm. “I was having a heated argument with a classmate over the phone . Stefan and Adrian just stepped in to help, that’s all.”

Bella stepped closer, her brow furrowing as she reached for her sister. “Are you okay, Daphne?”

“I’m fine. I just… I want to go home.” Daphne didn’t look at me. She kept her eyes fixed on Adrian’s shoulder, her hand tightening on his arm. “Adrian, please. Take me home.”

I watched them walk away. Not once did she look back.

“Let’s go,” Bella murmured.

The drive was a suffocating stretch of asphalt and silence. My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white, the leather creaking under the pressure. Beside me, Bella stared out the window, her reflection in the glass looking ghostly and distant. The tension in the cabin was a physical weight, pressing the air out of my lungs.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me, Stefan?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, my voice eerily calm, though my pulse was racing. I kept my eyes locked on the taillights ahead.

“Stefan, we’re getting married in six months.” She turned in her seat, the seriousness in her eyes pinning me down. “We can’t have secrets. Not now.”

“I promise, Bella. If there was something you needed to know, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shoulders relax, a small, trusting smile tugging at her lips. A wave of self-loathing washed over me. I loved her—I knew I did—but the memory of Daphne’s lips was a fever I couldn't shake.

I pulled up to her house, watched her walk to the door, and drove away the second she was inside. When I finally reached my own front door, I moved like a shadow, trying to slip past the living room unnoticed. I wasn't in the mood for another lecture on guest lists and floral arrangements.

“Stefan? You’re back.” My mother’s voice stopped me mid-step. She beamed at me from the sofa. “How was Disneyland with Bella? Did you two have a magical time?”

I forced a smile, the lie tasting like ash. “It was great, Mom.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. Your father has been hunting for you all evening. I told him you were out with your future wife, but he’s in the study now. You’d better go see him before he turns in.”

I nodded, my feet feeling heavy as I walked down the hall. I found him behind the mahogany desk, his face partially obscured by the heavy book he was reading. The scent of old paper and tobacco filled the room.

“You called for me, Dad?”

He looked up, sliding his reading glasses down his nose before setting them aside. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp.

“You could have waited until morning, Stefan, but since you’re here—sit.” He gestured to the leather chair across from him. “I’ve been reviewing your proposal regarding Adrian. I’ll admit, I initially hated the idea of handing over a portion of our shares to an actor. But after consulting the board, I see the logic. His influence is a weapon; it will put the company in front of an entirely new demographic.”

I forced a smile, but it felt brittle. Looking back, the deal felt like a noose I had tied myself. Giving Adrian a seat at our table—especially now—felt like inviting a wolf into the nursery.

“That’s good to hear, Dad,” I said. The smile didn't reach my eyes.

“I’m proud of you, son. You’re thinking about the legacy. You’re bringing real value to this firm.” He leaned back, his expression softening into something more paternal. “I only wish I could say the same for your sister. Bianca doesn’t seem interested in anything, let alone the business. I’m genuinely worried about what happens to her when we aren't here to catch her.”

“You don’t have to worry about Bianca,” I defended, though my voice lacked conviction. “She’s just… focused on her studies. That isn’t a bad thing.”

My father shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping him. “She has failed two semesters, Stefan.”

The air left my lungs. I sat bolt upright, my heart thudding. “She did what?”

“Two semesters,” he repeated, the disappointment etched into the lines of his face. “She’s supposed to be graduating soon.”

“But… she’s on track. She told me—”

“She’ll graduate because I’ve used my influence to grease the wheels, but I don’t want her to spend her life leaning on me. Please. Talk to her. Try to pull her back toward the light before she drifts too far.”

“I’ll handle it, Dad. Don’t worry.”

I stood up, my blood beginning to simmer. Failing? She had sent me her grades every few months. Every one of them was a lie. I marched toward her room, my footsteps echoing against the hardwood. I didn't bother with a gentle tap; I hammered on the door.

“Bianca! It’s me. Open up.”

Silence. I tried the handle; it gave way with a click. The room was dim, smelling of expensive perfume and damp towels. The sound of running water hummed from behind the bathroom door. She was in the shower.

I turned to leave, my anger momentarily cooling, until a flash of white on her unmade bed caught my eye. It was a crinkled sheaf of papers—a medical report. My stomach lurched. Was she sick? Had she been hiding an illness too?

I reached out, smoothing the paper between my trembling fingers. I scanned the lines, looking for a diagnosis, but the word that jumped out at me felt like a physical blow to the chest.

Abortion.

The bathroom door creaked open. Bianca stepped out, a cloud of steam following her. She was wrapping a robe around herself, her hair damp.

“Stefan? God, why are you just standing there? What if I’d come out naked?” She snapped, her voice sharp with annoyance. Then she caught the expression on my face. Her gaze dropped to the papers in my hand, and the color drained from her cheeks until she was as white as the report.

“An abortion, Bianca?” I didn't recognize my own voice; it was low, vibrating with a cocktail of fury and disbelief.