The Wrong Brother Becomes Mr. Right

When I opened the door to the private room, only one person was inside. He wore a sharp suit, his eyes cold and piercing. He looked up, stubbed out his cigarette, and a chill ran down my spine. I trembled, clutching the hem of my shirt. "Hello, could you tell me what my job is?" Just minutes earlier, Morris had told me about a part-time job that paid a million all at once. And only I could do it. He asked if I was willing, and without hesitation, I agreed. Morris and I had known each other since high school, and now we were in our first year of college. His family was bankrupt, and he needed money. I wanted to help. "Didn't Morris tell you?" the man asked. He flicked his lighter open and shut, the flame dancing and dying. I shook my head, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. As I wondered where I had seen him before, the man stood and strode toward me. He seized my wrist and dragged me to the sofa. "Your job is to keep me company for the night." He sat down, pulling me into his lap unexpectedly. Keep him company for the night? Had Morris sold me like an object? The thought crossed my mind for a brief moment. Impossible. Back in high school, when someone locked me in the sports equipment room for a prank, Morris had broken down the door and beat up those who tried to humiliate me. "Vera, I won’t let this happen again, trust me," he had said, eyes red with emotion. I had trusted him then. I still trusted him now. "You're lying!" I twisted my arm, trying to break free. "Morris would never do this!" The man chuckled, grabbing my face and turning it toward the large screen in front of us. "Really? Take a look. He's right next door." I went silent. The screen flickered to life, showing a surveillance feed of Morris and his friends drinking. But at this hour, he should have been working part-time at the restaurant to earn money. "The usual bet, huh? I bet she’ll call me within five minutes," Morris said casually, drumming his fingers on his phone. "I'm on Morris’s side! Every time Vera gets in trouble, she runs to him. Remember when she was locked in the bathroom? Or the time in the storage room?" "Exactly, she's clueless, always treating Morris like her hero. But Morris, don’t you think she’ll be mad when she finds out you’re the one behind it all?" "So what if she gets mad? She’s just a moody freak. Who else would put up with her besides me?" I felt my blood run cold, the realization hitting me like ice. Back in my first year of high school, my dad had cheated. When my mom found out, she grabbed a knife, killed him, and then took her own life. I walked into the house to find them both dead, locked in a grotesque embrace. Since then, I became withdrawn, speaking less, avoiding others, and staying gloomy all the time. Everyone at school called me a freak, so I stopped going. It was Morris who stood by me, who kept trying to cheer me up. "Vera, don’t listen to those people. My Vera is perfect just the way she is." I stared at Morris on the screen, my vision blurred with tears. Tears streamed down my face. Morris was set as my emergency contact, something he did himself, so I could reach him first if anything happened. But this time, I held my phone without calling him. In the footage, Morris seemed restless, slamming his glass down. He pointed to an unopened bottle of wine and said to the girl beside him, "Lena, take this to Vera’s room and see what’s going on." Lena knocked on the door. The man opened it just a c***k, trying to hide my tear-streaked face. "Hello, sir. My boyfriend sent you a bottle of wine." Lena Everett had always claimed to be Morris’s girlfriend. She was his junior, openly infatuated with him. Even though Morris had rejected her countless times, she still acted like his girlfriend. Meanwhile, I had silently loved Morris for four years without ever saying it aloud. Lena handed over the wine but didn’t want to leave, peering inside until the man shut the door on her. The sofa beside me sank. The man placed the wine on the table and said, "Vera, this wine costs seven hundred and six thousand." "To Morris, it’s just a drop in the bucket." I understood immediately. If Morris could afford a bottle of wine like that, he certainly didn’t need the hundred thousand I was supposed to earn that night. Morris’s family hadn’t gone bankrupt at all. I glanced at my rough hands, faint red burns from my part-time job as a waitress. Fifteen bucks an hour. I had thought the burns were a small price to pay to help Morris, but now those scars seemed to mock me, proving I was a fool. I was the only one who had played along with the bankruptcy lie. A deafening roar filled my ears, and then there was silence. Tears continued to fall as I wiped them away frantically. My phone buzzed. Morris's name glared at me on the screen. I didn’t pick up. He kept calling, the tension thick in the air. "Bang!" Morris’s phone crashed to the ground, shattering with a loud c***k. "Damn it!" A few heartbeats later, the door was kicked open. "Open up!!" The man turned to me, "Should I let him in?" I nodded. "Yes." I had to confront him face to face. "Open the door! If anything happens to Vera, I’ll kill you!" The door rattled violently. I opened it, locking eyes with Morris. He pulled me into a tight embrace. "You scared the hell out of me, Vera. Thank God you’re okay." His voice trembled, and he seemed genuinely frightened. He wasn’t the same reckless gambler from the surveillance footage. I pushed him away. He released me, bending down to look into my tear-streaked eyes. He clenched his jaw, a warning in his gaze. This was Morris about to lose his temper. "You're crying? Did he lay a finger on you? I’ll make him pay." With that, he tried to storm into the room. I grabbed his sleeve, holding him back. "Morris, wasn’t it you who set this up for me to spend the night with him?"