She Has His Eyes, and He’s Marrying My Stepsister Chapter 06

Chapter 6: Homewrecker

Grant, STOP!”

I threw myself between them. Grant’s fist froze an inch from my face. Killian stood behind me, blood running from his lip, not moving.

“He deserves it,” Grant spat.

“He didn’t know!”

My brother blinked. “What?”

So I told him. Right there in my driveway, with my daughter asleep in the car. The sticky note. The fake number. The text. Sloane.

By the time I finished, Grant had sat down on the curb with his head in his hands.

“Sloane,” he muttered. “That psycho. She’s been living in Mom’s house this whole time. Eating dinner with us every Sunday. Smiling at me.” He looked up at Killian. “And you’re marrying her?”

Killian wiped the blood off his chin. “The engagement is business. My father had a stroke last year. Her father, Richard, owns forty percent of Voss Holdings. Marrying Sloane kept the board from tearing the company apart.” His eyes cut to me. “I didn’t care who I married. The only woman I ever wanted, I thought had moved on.”

My heart did something stupid and dangerous.

Grant stood and held out his hand. Killian shook it. No words. That was how men like them apologized.

The next morning, my life exploded.

I woke up to forty missed calls and a thousand notifications. Maya had sent me one link with seventeen crying emojis.

It was a post from Sloane’s account. Two million followers.

A photo of me at the engagement party. Mid-blink, mouth open, looking unhinged.

Some women will do ANYTHING to steal a man. My own stepsister showed up at my engagement with a child she’s claiming belongs to my fiancé. A child she had with God knows who. Ladies, protect your men from gold diggers. #Homewrecker #Karma

The comments made me physically sick.

Disgusting.

She looks desperate lol

Imagine using your own kid as a weapon.

Someone find her address.

Someone did.

By noon, my bakery had a line of people outside. Not customers. People with phones. Filming. Shouting.

How much is the paying you, gold digger?”

“Get a real job!”

A woman threw her coffee at my window. It slid down the glass, brown and ugly, over the hearts Ivy had drawn

Maya pulled down the blinds. “I’m calling the police.”

“They won’t do anything. It’s not illegal to be cruel.”

I sat on the kitchen floor, hugging my knees. Ivy was safe at Grant’s apartment. That was the only thing keeping me sane.

My phone buzzed. A text from my mother..

How could you do this to your sister? You’ve humiliated this whole family. Don’t come home for Sunday dinner.

My own mother.

I laughed so I wouldn’t scream.

At closing time, the crowd had finally left, I was sweeping up glitter from a cupcake order nobody would pick up when I

heard it.

CRASH.

Glass exploded across the floor. I screamed and threw my arms over my head. Something heavy skidded across the tiles and stopped at my feet.

A brick.

Wrapped in paper. One word in red marker.

WHORE.

I couldn’t breathe. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped the broom.

Then headlights flooded through the broken window.

A car door slammed. Footsteps crunched over glass. And Killian Voss walked into my ruined bakery, his eyes moving from the brick to my face to the blood on my arm from a flying shard.

He went very, very quiet.

He picked up the brick. Read the paper. Crushed it in his fist.

“Pack a bag,” he said, his voice like ice. “You and Ivy are coming home with me. Tonight.”