HIS BROTHER'S SIN

MADE UP LIES.

I heard the knocks before I even saw the shadow under my door. Three sharp raps. Not the lazy kind my landlord usually gave when he came sniffing around for rent, but heavy, familiar, persistent.

Steven.

My stomach knotted instantly. I hadn’t answered his calls all morning, hadn’t replied to his texts last night. I thought maybe I could keep ignoring him until I figured out how to stitch my life back together. But now, here he was, at my door.

I hesitated for a full minute before pulling it open.

And there he stood. Steven, my boyfriend of almost a year, clean-cut as always, his hair slicked back neatly, expensive watch gleaming on his wrist. His grey eyes…usually soft whenever they met mine…were sharp now, searching, questioning.

“Finally,” he muttered, pushing the door wider with his shoulder. “Why the hell weren’t you answering me, Kathy? I called—what—ten times?”

I stepped back to let him in, my throat dry. I’d rehearsed excuses in my head all morning, but none of them seemed believable now that he was actually standing in front of me.

“I was… sleeping,” I lied quickly, rubbing my temple. “My phone was on silent.”

He gave me a hard look, his jaw tightening. “Sleeping? Since last night? Don’t play with me, Katherine.”

The way he said my full name made my chest sting. Steven rarely used it. To him, I was always Kathy, his girl, the one he spoiled, the one he wanted by his side when he showed off his success. But right now, I was Katherine. The liar. The one dodging him.

His eyes flickered then, catching on the neckline of my shirt. I tugged it up quickly, too late. His hand shot out, catching my wrist, turning it palm up. His gaze darkened when he saw the faint bruise circling it like a shadowed bracelet.

“What the hell is this?” His voice was low now, dangerous.

I snatched my hand back, stepping away. “It’s nothing, Steven.”

“Nothing?” He stepped closer, towering over me, his breath fanning my cheek. “Don’t insult me. And that…” His fingers brushed my collarbone, then froze at the purplish mark peeking through. “Don’t you dare tell me that’s nothing either.”

Heat rushed to my face, shame crashing into me so hard I thought I’d collapse.

“I…” My lips trembled, words scrambling in my head. “I… got into a fight. At the bar.”

“A fight?” His eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“Yes,” I insisted, forcing myself to look him in the eye. “A customer grabbed me, Steven. I tried to get him off me, but he was rough. He left bruises.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Steven studied me for a long time, suspicion clouding his eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

“And the hickeys?” he asked coldly.

I bit my lip, panicking. “He… he kissed me. Forced himself on me. I swear I fought him off. He didn't succeed.”

Steven’s fists clenched at his sides. His chest heaved once before he spun away from me, pacing across my small apartment like a storm caged inside four walls.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” he demanded, voice echoing.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” I whispered. “It was humiliating. I just wanted to forget it happened.”

“Forget?” He turned back, his face etched with disbelief and anger. “Kathy, if anyone…anyone…touches you, you come to me. Do you hear me? You don’t hide it. You don’t bury it. You damn well tell me.”

I swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. For a moment, his eyes softened, like the storm was subsiding. He stepped forward, cupping my cheek gently now, his thumb brushing against my skin.

“You don’t deserve this,” he murmured. “No man should lay a finger on you. Next time, I swear, I’ll…”

“There won’t be a next time,” I cut in quickly, forcing a small smile, though my chest was burning with guilt. “I promise.”

He searched my eyes for another long moment, then pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. Relief loosened something inside me, though only a little. He hated me working at the bar, but it was my choice not his.

“Alright,” he finally said, calmer now. “Then let’s focus on something else. My parents want to see you tonight.”

My stomach plummeted.

“Tonight?” I repeated, my voice almost a squeak.

He nodded, completely oblivious to the panic that shot through me. “Yes. I told them about us last week, and they insisted. Dinner at the mansion. Seven o’clock sharp.”

I froze, my nails digging into my palms. His parents.

Steven’s family wasn’t just rich. They were the Salvadores…old money, famous name, every magazine fawning over them. His father ran one of the biggest real estate empires in the country. His mother was practically royalty in every social circle that mattered.

And me? I was Katherine Sawyer only on paper because of my father. A man who was sitting in jail right now. My real life was small apartments, bar shifts, overdue rent, and lies stacked on lies to keep Steven from seeing the truth.

He knew but His parents didn’t know. No one in his perfect world knew. We had lied to his parents that I was from a wealthy family.

And tonight, all of it could unravel.

“Steven…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Do we… do we really have to do this tonight?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re backing out.”

“I’m not backing out, I just…” I swallowed, searching for an excuse that didn’t sound like the truth. “I’m not ready. What if they don’t like me, what if they finds out?”

“They won't” he said firmly. “They’ll love you. I already told them about you, about your family, your background…”

My heart thudded painfully. The background I had made up. The fake wealthy parents. The fake connections.

“And trust me,” he continued, “my mother is excited. She’s been wanting to meet you for months.”

“Steven…”

He held my shoulders, steadying me, his voice softer now. “Stop worrying, Kathy. You’ll be perfect. Just be yourself.”

I almost laughed bitterly at that. Myself? If I was myself, the truth would shatter us both.

But I forced a shaky nod, because what else could I do?

“Okay,” I whispered. “Tonight.”

His smile returned, and he kissed me again, longer this time, his lips soft against mine. “That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up at six. Wear something nice. They’ll expect you to look the part.”

I nodded again, but inside, I was screaming.

Because looking the part was the easy part.

It was being the part that was going to destroy me.

And as Steven left, humming to himself like the evening would be flawless, I collapsed onto the couch, clutching my head, already dreading the storm that was about to hit.