Craving My Husband’s Brother

CHAPTER 11 AMBER

The smell of smoke didn’t leave me just because the fire was out. It clung to the back of my throat, thick and bitter, making every breath feel like I was swallowing ash.

I sat at the edge of the long, mahogany dining table, my fingers wrapped tightly around a porcelain teacup that had gone completely cold. My throat burned with every swallow, a lingering reminder of the guest room that had almost become my coffin. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating weight in the room.

The morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Hawthorn dining room, bright and unyielding, exposing every bit of the mess I was trying so hard to hide.

"You are an absolute embarrassment."

The words didn't come from a Hawthorn. They came from my stepmother. Evelyn stood at the head of the table, her hands planted firmly on the polished wood, her gray hair styled into a tight, unforgiving bun.

‘Why the hell was she still even in the mansion.’ I thought to my self.

Her face was twisted into that familiar look of pure disgust—the same look she used on me when my father was alive, back when she still had to pretend she didn't hate his children.

"Do you have any idea what the press is saying this morning?" Rita, Nathaniel’s stepmother, chimed in from her seat. She didn't look angry; she looked calculated.

She sipped her espresso, her eyes tracking me like a hawk watching a wounded animal. "The headlines aren't about Liam taking over the empire. They are about the secondary heir’s wife throwing a drunken tantrum and setting a wing of the estate on fire. The stock market opens in an hour, Alice."

Hearing that name *Alice*—made my stomach turn. It wasn't me. It had never been me. I was Amber Garcia, a girl hiding from a monster, trapped in a house full of different kinds of monsters.

"I didn't do it on purpose," I whispered, my voice raw and scraping against my throat. I didn't look up. I couldn't. If I looked up, I would see Nathaniel.

He was sitting directly across from me, slouching in his chair with a heavy pair of sunglasses hiding his eyes. He reeked of stale whiskey and expensive cologne—the exact same scent that had been all over Audrey yesterday.

He hadn't said a single word to me since yesterday morning.

He hadn't asked if I was okay when the fire trucks arrived.

He hadn't even looked toward the ambulance. Right now, he was just picking at a plate of eggs, his jaw tight, completely

indifferent to the execution happening right in front of him.

"Don't you dare use that pathetic, weak tone with me," Evelyn snapped, stepping closer to my side of the table. The sharp click of her heels made me wince. "You have been nothing but a burden since the day your father died. I brought you into this family to secure your future, to give

you a life you didn't deserve, and this is how you repay me?

By behaving like an unhinged, hysterical child because your husband doesn't give you enough attention?"

A sharp, hot lump formed in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, my knuckles turning white against the porcelain cup. Yesterday's voices flooded back into my head. ‘She serves no purpose... she is f*****g barren.’

"Nathaniel is a grown man with responsibilities," Evelyn continued, her voice dropping into that low, venomous register she used when she wanted to break me completely.

"If he seeks comfort elsewhere, perhaps you should look in the mirror and ask yourself why you are so entirely incapable of keeping him. You couldn't even give him a child, Alice. You are an empty, useless shell, and now you’re trying to burn down the house that feeds you."

The word *barren* wasn't spoken, but it hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. It felt like a physical blow to my chest, stealing the remaining air from my lungs.

A single tear escaped my lashes, tracking hot down my cheek. I hated myself for crying. I hated that they could still do this to me.

Nathaniel didn't even flinch. He just took a slow sip of his water, completely unbothered.

"That is enough."

The voice didn't just cut through the room; it froze the entire space.

I jerked my head up, my breath catching in my throat. Liam stood in the arched doorway of the dining room. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo from last night. He wore a crisp, dark gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the dark ink of his tattoos.

His hair was slightly damp, his jaw shadow-darkened and rigid. But it was his eyes—those storm-grey eyes—that made the temperature in the room plummet. They were cold, lethal, and fixed entirely on Evelyn.

Evelyn straightened up, her harsh expression faltering for a fraction of a second before she smoothed her skirt. "Liam. Good morning. We were just discussing the damages from last night—"

"I heard what you were discussing," Liam said, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated through the floorboards.

He walked into the room, his movements slow and predatory. He didn't look at Rita, and he completely ignored Nathaniel. His entire focus was a heavy, suffocating weight moving toward the head of the table.

"This is a family matter, Liam," Rita said, her tone tightening as she tried to regain control of the room. "Alice needs to understand the gravity of her actions. The reputation of this family—"

"The reputation of this family is currently being managed by my legal team and public relations executives," Liam cut her off, his tone flat enough to draw blood.

He stopped right at the corner of the table, shadowing Evelyn completely. He didn't look down at her; he looked through her. "And as the head of this house and the chairman of the Hawthorn Group, I suggest you remember whose name is on the deed of this estate before you open your mouth again."

Evelyn’s face flushed a deep, angry red. "I am her mother, Mr. Hawthorn. I have every right to discipline—"

"You are a guest in this house," Liam delivered the words with a calm, terrifying precision. He leaned forward slightly, planting one large hand on the back of an empty chair. The leather groaned under his grip. "And you will not raise your voice under my roof again. To anyone."

The room went completely, deathly silent. Even Nathaniel stopped moving his fork, his head lifting slightly behind his sunglasses as he sensed the shift in the air.

Liam finally shifted his gaze down to me. For a split second, the terrifying ice in his eyes thawed, replaced by something dark, heavy, and intensely possessive.

His eyes tracked the smudge of soot near my hairline that I hadn't managed to wash out, then dropped to the single tear drying on my jaw. A sharp muscle twitched in his cheek.

"The fire last night had nothing to do with my brother's wife," Liam announced, turning his head back toward Rita and Evelyn. His voice was steady, authoritative, leaving absolutely no room for argument. "I had the engineering team inspect the east wing two hours ago. The fire was caused by faulty, outdated wiring behind the wood paneling near the terrace. It was an electrical failure. Alice was simply unfortunate enough to be in the room when it sparked."

I stared at him, my lips parting in pure shock. Faulty wiring?

He knew exactly what happened. He knew about the candle.

He knew I had been broken, crying on the floor because of his brother. Yet, he was lying to his own family, to the press, to everyone, just to cover for me.

"An electrical issue?" Rita repeated, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Liam, the maids said—"

"The maids are paid to clean, not to diagnose structural integrity," Liam snapped, his grey eyes flashing with dangerous impatience. "The official statement has already been sent to the press. The narrative is controlled. Anyone in this room who contradicts that statement will be answering to me directly. Am I making myself clear?"

Rita swallowed hard, her polished exterior finally cracking. She gave a stiff, tight nod and looked away. Evelyn looked like she wanted to scream, her fingers trembling with rage, but she knew better than to push a man who could cut off her lifeline with a single phone call.

"Nathaniel," Liam’s voice barked out, sharp as a whip.

Nathaniel jumped slightly in his seat, finally taking off his sunglasses. "Yeah?"

"Take your guest and leave," Liam ordered, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "I need to speak with your wife regarding the insurance documentation for the east wing. Alone."

Nathaniel looked between Liam and me, a flicker of suspicion crossing his handsome face before it was quickly swallowed by his usual lazy indifference. He pushed his chair back, standing up without looking at me. "Whatever. Come on, Evelyn. Let's go before big brother decides to audit my bank account next."

Evelyn threw one last, venomous glare in my direction before turning on her heel and following Nathaniel out of the room. Rita stood up next, her movements elegant but hurried, leaving the dining room within seconds.