Lust Behind The Mansion Walls

SECRETS, SILK AND A STEP-BROTHER

Aria

"She thought the shock was her mother's wedding, until she saw him.”

My words stuck in my throat. The room tilted, and I couldn't breathe. What does she mean by getting married again, and when did it all happen?

“You have to be kidding, mum,” I replied walking towards her as she was about to leave.

“I’m not,” she said flatly. “We leave tomorrow at seven. Say your goodbyes.”

My chest tightened, a cold shock racing down my spine. She kept this from me?

This is so unfair, Mother.

“I am not going anywhere, mum,” I crossed my arms, glaring. “Argh! Why does no one think of my feelings before anything? Dad just cheated on you with Aunt Lydia last night, and the next morning, you are already getting married again? Classic.”

There was silence in the room. My words hang in the air. I tried so hard to hold back my tears, but my eyes betrayed me. My mother walked up to me, her eyes weak from maybe pain and tears.

“I am sorry you have to go through this, Aria. You don't deserve this, but just give me a chance to make you happy— to make us happy. I promise you won't regret it,” Her voice cracked.

I want to be defiant, I want to stand firmly in my words, but no. My mother's words melted me. The pain in her voice and the struggle to survive. She has never been happy—not when my father was in her life. My father was an addict, a gambler and a very violent man. Everything my mother worked for, he takes till there's nothing left. The only thing he hasn't touched yet is her soul.

“He hit me again while you were out last night, after I gave him the divorce papers. He took all the money we have,” my mother added, with tears in her eyes.

Her words hit like a slap. Abuse. The kind that left more than bruises. My throat tightened, guilt clawing its way up—how many nights had she hidden this from me? My stomach tightened from something bigger than hate. My fist clenched and my hands trembled.

“It's okay, Aria,” Nick said as he gently held my hand and hugged me tightly. He saw the fury piling up inside of me. Something in me broke, and I let out all the pain I’ve hidden inside. I held him like I was a scared child left alone in the park.

The night blurred into morning, and thoughts filled my head. Nick came early, waking me up from sleep.

“Hey, princess,” he whispered. I slowly opened my eyes with a smile on my face.

“Oh Nick, I don't want to wake up yet,” I replied grumpily, rolling on my bed.

“But you have to,” he replied softly. “Your mum is about to give away some of your favourite stuff downstairs, by the way.”

“What!” I jolted up. That was the only thing that would make me wake up from that bed.

Nick was my best friend ever since he defended me in seventh grade when people made fun of my dad.

I had a heavy feeling while I packed my things. Maybe nostalgia or fear. A lot of questions in my head. What if he’s like my father? What if my mother never became happy, and most certainly, what if my father shows up and ruins everything?

I said goodbye to Nick and hopped in the car. The ride was long, mixed with feelings that I can't name. The miles blurred by. Every highway sign felt like a countdown to something I couldn’t name—fear, hope, maybe both.

“Don't worry, I’ll arrange Nick’s visit as soon as we get there,” my mum said softly, placing her palm on mine to give me comfort.

I nodded with a smile on my face.

We finally got to the destination after a four-hour drive. I stretched, my bones stiff after the drive.

Oh my goodness!

My breath hitched as the mansion came into view. I slowed without meaning to, my phone nearly slipping from my hand as my eyes traced the towering windows and wrought-iron balconies.

“Ah!” I gasped. “Mum, are you getting married to the president?”

It wasn’t just a mansion—it was the kind of place that whispered old money with every brick. The polished wood, the grand staircase, the chandeliers that probably cost more than most people’s homes—everything about it screamed history, power, and wealth passed down through generations.

“You like it?” My mum asked, her voice laced with laughter.

“Mum? Do I like it?” I asked as I happily scanned the whole building. This was certainly not what I expected when she said she was going to remarry. Or maybe I’m too damaged to think every man is a deadbeat like my father.

I immediately took a picture and texted it to Nick.

“There's something I want to tell you before we go in, Aria,” my mum said with her hands on her waist. “I’m getting married to Alexander Beaumont, the billionaire CEO of Beaumont Automotives. I’m sorry I didn't tell you everything before now—”

“As long as you are happy, mum, I am happy too,” I replied with a smile on my face.

The butler carried my luggage upstairs, and when I stepped into the room, I froze. It was exactly how I would have done it myself. The big dressing table was already lined with makeup, the bed looked ridiculously soft and inviting, and every detail—from the colours to the little touches—felt like me. I couldn’t help but smile.

Mum must have told them everything. It was… thoughtful, and for a moment, it almost felt like home.

There was a knock on my door, a butler walked in with a fancy dress and shoes, and a note that said, “Be ready, grand dinner to meet the family at seven.”

Great. More strangers to fake-smile at and forget by morning.

I didn’t linger when it came to getting ready for dinner. I slipped into the couture dress, the fabric hugging my waist and skimming my hips like it had been made for me alone. The high slit teased freedom with every step, and the open back felt almost rebellious, exposing skin I rarely dared to show.

When I caught my reflection, I didn’t just see curves or silk—I saw a version of myself I’d kept buried. Bold. Unapologetic. Maybe a little dangerous.

And for once, I wasn’t hiding.

I went downstairs, and the car was already waiting. We stopped at a grand hotel, a place where only rich and influential people would have access to.

I don't know how my mother pulled off this one but she really did hit the jackpot with Mr. Beaumont.

The butler took me in, and my mother was already there, sitting and laughing with her new husband-to-be.

“Here she is,” my mum said, focusing Alexander’s attention towards me.

“Aria,” he said with a smile on his face. He stretched forth his hands and offered me a warm hug.

My mum sure has taste.

He was ruggedly handsome. Tall, with silver streaks cutting through his black hair, he looked like a power-made human. Beside my mother, they were a portrait of perfect happiness.

“You look beautiful, Aria,” he said with a warm smile. “I hope I impressed you with your room.”

“Of course. I know my mum must have told you,” I replied, giving him a warm smile in return.

“Damien is always going to be late,” he murmured, checking his phone.

Just when I was about to sip my drink, a strange but familiar voice spoke from behind. “Are you and your new family having dinner without me?”

My glass froze halfway to my lips—that voice.

“We’ve been waiting, Damien. You are always late. And please, tell me you were not racing in the streets again.”

I turned, and the room spun—him. The stranger who tasted like trouble, my one-night mistake I swore I’d forget. And now… my stepbrother.