Owned By My Stepbrother

Chapter 2: The Unexpected Visitor

HERA’S POV

"Hera, what food would you like for dinner?" My mom inquired as she busied herself in the kitchen, preparing our evening meal.

"Anything will do, Mom, except pork," I replied. It's not that I had an aversion to pork, but I knew it could be hard to digest, especially as part of the evening meal.

At twenty-one, I understood that I should be embracing independence, but my mother insisted that I complete my studies before striking out on my own. I had promised to do everything necessary to finish my education so she could retire and enjoy some well-deserved rest.

My love for her knew no bounds. She had been my anchor since my father left us when I was just eight, abandoning our family for another woman. My anger towards him ran deep. He had made no effort to contact me or visit since his departure, and I remained clueless about his current whereabouts. It was as if he had entirely erased me from his life.

Sitting on the living room floor and engrossed in my homework, I had set up a modest table, reflective of our small house.

"How was your day at school today?" my mother inquired, a ritual we observed to share the happenings of our respective days.

"Nothing new, Mom. It's been the same as usual," I responded, choosing not to burden her with the unpleasant aspects of my day. "And how was your day?"

She settled in front of me and began with a smile. "Remember the man I told you about last time?" I nodded, recalling the man she had met at the hospital. "Well, we've officially started dating today!" I couldn't help but smile, seeing the happiness written all over her face. "But, Hera, is that okay with you?" she asked, a note of hesitancy in her voice.

"Of course, Mom!" I beamed and moved closer to her, hugging her tightly. "You deserve happiness, Mom. You've devoted your entire life to me, and it's time for you to make yourself happy. So, if this relationship brings you joy, I wholeheartedly support it."

"Thank you, Hera!" Her eyes glistened with emotion. "I'm grateful to have you as my daughter," she said, her happiness evident as she embraced me even tighter.

"However, in the event that that man ever induces tears in you, I will undoubtedly engage in a substantive dialogue with him!" I declared boldly, which prompted her to burst into laughter. For the first time in years, I saw her so genuinely happy.

"Anyway, he mentioned that he has a son, and I think he's around your age, but I haven't met him yet. So, we're planning a family dinner to get to know each other better," she added, moving away from our hug.

"Sure, Mom. Just set the date, and I'm really looking forward to meeting my soon-to-be stepbrother and stepfather," I said with a smile, genuinely excited about the prospect.

"Okay," she replied cheerfully. "All right, focus on finishing your assignment. I'll take care of dinner," she added, getting up and returning to the kitchen, which was visible from where I was seated.

We had been living in that apartment since I was eight years old, and I had grown accustomed to our modest life. It was a small apartment that my mother purchased with the proceeds from the sale of our old house, the one we had lived in when my parents were still together. She also used some of the money to buy a second-hand car, which proved essential for her daily commute to the hospital where she worked.

I was acutely aware of my mother's sacrifices and struggles, which only served to fuel my determination. She had become my unwavering source of inspiration. I had worked tirelessly to secure a full scholarship at a prestigious university, and I was on the cusp of completing my fourth year in the Bachelor of Arts and Communication program. My most fervent dream was to become a journalist. Despite the challenges I faced, I remained optimistic about achieving my goals.

Once I had finished my homework, I rose from my spot on the floor and glanced at my mother, who was busy in the kitchen. "Mom, I'll head to my room. Just give me a shout when it's time to eat," I informed her before retreating into my room.

"Okay," she replied.

My room was just four steps away from the living room. Our living space was modest, consisting of only two rooms.

As I entered my room, I made my way to the bed. It had been my bed since I was eight years old, and it showed its age. I also had a small cabinet, a study table, and a bedside table, all of which I had used since childhood.

I lay down on the bed and suddenly felt the pain in my back from Inigo's actions. Recalling the events, I quickly got up and approached the mirror in my room. Slowly, I lifted my blouse to reveal the sizable bruise on my back.

I knew the bruise was a result of Inigo forcefully pushing me against the wall. I didn't appreciate his behavior, but he exuded an air of unwavering self-confidence. He was aware that he could get away with almost anything, given his status as one of the Sanders and as the son of the school's owner.

It was my first time experiencing such an altercation, and the fact that no one dared to intervene because of his background troubled me. I couldn't stand by and watch such behavior go unchallenged.

It wasn't right to look down on others simply because you had everything and could have anything you desired.

"Hera, it's time to eat," my mother called from the living room, drawing me away from my thoughts. I left my room, deciding to put the matter aside for the time being.

After our meal, I returned to my room to rest, knowing I had to get an early start the next day.

THE NEXT MORNING

"Hera, I left your allowance on the table!" My mother's loud shout jolted me awake. "Get up! It's already 6:30 a.m., and you might be late," she called out again, her voice reaching me in my room.

I roused myself and made my way to the bathroom adjacent to my room to wash my face.

"Why are you up so early, Mom?" I inquired in surprise upon exiting the bathroom.

"We have a hospital emergency, and as the head nurse, I need to be there," she explained, sipping her coffee. "I can't wait for you this time. Waiting would make me late," she hurriedly bade me goodbye and planted a swift kiss on my forehead.

"No problem, Mom. Take care on your way to work," I replied as I started brewing some coffee. I only heard the soft closing of our door, signifying her departure.

I still had ample time since my class didn't start until 7:30 a.m., and our home was only a 15- to 20-minute walk from the school. With my mother gone, I opted not to have the breakfast she had prepared and instead began to get ready.

After my shower, I proceeded to dress for the day. I critically examined myself in the mirror. I looked presentable in my simple attire—a black knit turtleneck blouse with elbow-length sleeves, paired with white skinny jeans and white sneakers.

"Looks good, doesn't it?" I asked, as if there were someone there to answer my question.

I was on the verge of leaving when I heard a knock on our front door. I rushed out of my room to open it, not expecting Inigo to be on the other side.

"Inigo!" I exclaimed in shock, taken aback by his unexpected visit. "What are you doing here? And how did you find out where I live?" I inquired, but instead of responding, he pushed past me and entered the house. I had no choice but to close the door behind him.