Daddy’s billionaire step-brother
Chapter 52: Truth untold

to rattle the frame.

Richard stormed through the pristine garden leading to Adrian's villa, his footsteps heavy with anger. He didn't care about the view or the luxury surrounding him; all that mattered was getting to Adrian. He pounded on the door, hard enough Moments later, Adrian opened it, his expression neutral. "Richard," he greeted coldly.

Without waiting for an invitation, Richard pushed past him and stepped into the villa, the tension immediately thick between them. "How dare you show up here like this?"

Adrian remained calm, crossing his arms. "I was invited," he replied evenly. "By the Caldwells."

"I told you to stay away from Clara," Richard snapped, his voice low but seething with fury.

Adrian's eyes darkened, but he maintained his composure. "And I did. I left the country, like you asked. I stayed away from her."

Richard paced the room, unable to contain his frustration. "There's a lot at stake here. This wedding is crucial. Clara doesn't need you showing up and messing with her head."

Adrian's lips curled into a bitter, sarcastic smile. "Messing with her head? You've been doing that her entire life, Richard. You don't need my help in that department."

Before Adrian could react, Richard's fist flew through the air and connected with Adrian's face, the force of it sending him stumbling back a step. Adrian wiped the blood from his lip, glaring up at him but not retaliating. "I'm warning you," Richard hissed, his voice dangerously low. "Don't ruin this."

Adrian stood straight, meeting Richard's glare with defiance. "I'm just a guest here. I didn't come to cause trouble. I just wanted to wish Clara good luck... maybe give her some closure."

Richard scoffed, his eyes flashing with contempt. "The best closure she could ever get is you staying out of her life for good. She's a teenager, Adrian, infatuated with some fantasy of you. Now she's becoming a woman, a respectable wife, who doesn't have time for your bullshit. You've already ruined her enough."

Adrian stared at Richard, his jaw clenching as he processed the words. "So you know, then..." Adrian said, his voice filled with disbelief. "I thought you didn't want to know." Richard's face twisted with disgust. "I wish I never knew," he spat. "But there are consequences for the mess you made. I'm cleaning them up for Clara's sake."

Adrian's expression hardened, his voice quiet but sharp. "Stop pretending any of this is for Clara. You're using her for your own gain, for your business, for your pride. You can't stand the fact that I came from nothing and built something, while you had everything and lost it all because you're a piece of shit."

Richard's eyes narrowed, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice cold and measured. "If you care about her at all, you'll stay away. Let her move on. Let her become the woman she's supposed to be. Do the right thing, for once in your life."

With that, Richard turned on his heel and left, the door slamming behind him, leaving Adrian standing there, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

***

Clara lay in Mr. Caldwell's bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, but the luxurious surroundings did nothing to comfort her. She felt empty, spent, as though everything inside her had been hollowed out. And yet, there was a strange sense of calm settling over her, as if a weight she hadn't known she was carrying had finally been lifted. Perhaps it was the finality of it all-the knowledge that this was her reality now. Next to her, Mr. Caldwell was lounging on the pillows, his hand lazily tracing patterns on her arm. His touch felt wrong, but she didn't flinch. Not anymore.

"Did you like it?" he asked, his voice soft but expectant.

Clara forced a smile, the kind she'd been perfecting since the engagement. "I did," she lied, her voice hollow, void of the emotions she couldn't afford to feel right now.

Mr. Caldwell chuckled, clearly pleased with her response. "Good. This is just a glimpse of what our honeymoon will be like. You'll see... you'll enjoy it even more once you settle in."

She said nothing, just lay there, her body stiff beneath the silk sheets. His words echoed in her head, drowning out her own thoughts. Our honeymoon. She wanted to scream, to run, to claw her way out of this life she had trapped herself in. But she couldn't. She wouldn't. The consequences were too great.

She glanced down at her stomach, barely visible beneath the sheets, her hand resting instinctively over the slight swell of her belly. The baby. That's all that mattered now. As long as her baby was safe, she could endure this. She had to. But the thought of nights like this, stretching on for days, for years, was suffocating. She felt as if she were sinking into a dark pit with no way out. And yet, she had chosen this path. She had made her bed-literally-and now she had to lie in it, night after night.

Mr. Caldwell leaned in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "You're going to be a perfect wife, Clara," he murmured. "The life you've always dreamed of is just beginning."

Clara closed her eyes, swallowing the bitter taste rising in her throat. The life I've always dreamed of... she repeated to herself, the lie burning more with each word.