The Stepbrother’s Wager Chapter 06

The Stepbrother’s Wager Chapter 06

Winter came early in Helsinki.

Snow began falling on my first day at the conservation institute.

Julian was part of the same fellowship. He had arrived six months before me and was responsible for showing new fellows around the lab.

At first, I kept my guard up around him.

He never crossed a line. He simply handed me an access badge and said, “Your room is on the third floor, and the lab opens at eight every morning.”

“If anyone asks about your past, you don’t have to answer.”

I nodded.

“Thank you.”

His gaze fell on the bandage still wrapped around my hand.

“Remember to change the dressing.”

I pulled my hand into my sleeve.

For a long time after that, I barely spoke to anyone.

I spent my days conserving rare books and manuscripts, then returned to my room each night. I poured all my energy into learning.

Torn paper could be mended one fiber at a time, and faded ink could slowly be brought back into

view.

The cracks inside a person were not so easy to repair.

I often woke in the middle of the night.

I dreamed about the basement and the shattered pendant. I dreamed about Ethan walking toward me with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face.

Sometimes, I dreamed about my mother.

She would stand in the mist and ask whether I was in pain.

Every time, I wanted to tell her it didn’t hurt.

But the moment I opened my mouth, the tears began to fall.

Julian did not try to comfort me.

One day, he simply placed a small box on my worktable.

Inside was a plain silver pendant shaped like a tiny ivy leaf.

He said, “Nothing can replace what you lost.”

“This isn’t compensation. I just hope it brings you some peace.”

I stared at the pendant for a long time before closing the box.

“Thank you, but I can’t accept it.”

Julian did not pressure me.

“Then I’ll keep it for now. You can take it when you’re ready to let something new into your life.”

For the first time, I smiled at him.

News from back home occasionally reached me.

Claire had been taken in for questioning over distributing intimate images without consent, posting my private information, and arranging for strangers to harass me.

The Whitmores publicly disowned her and cut all family ties.

Ethan sent takedown demands to every platform involved and filed suit against everyone he could identify who had reposted the images.

Dylan searched for me as though he had lost his mind.

He sent me countless emails.

The first contained only two words.

[I’m sorry.]

The second was much longer.

He said he had uncovered the truth about the past. He said my mother had never been the other

woman and admitted that he had been wrong.

He said that if I was willing, he would transfer to me everything from the Whitmore estate that

should have been mine.

I never replied.

Ethan sent emails too.

He said he did not know how he could ever make amends. Whenever he remembered me standing outside that door and hearing the truth, he wanted to go back and kill the version of himself who

had done it.

He said he had no right to ask for forgiveness.

But he also said he would wait for me.

I did not reply to him either.

My adviser once asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to go home for a visit?”

I kept my head lowered as I repaired a damaged page.

“Not yet.”

My adviser sighed.

“Running away won’t solve anything.”

I paused for a moment.

“I’m not running away. I’m finally choosing not to look back.

I did not return home once during those three years.

I cut my hair short.

I learned to make my own doctor’s appointments and go alone. I learned to stay calm when I boarded the wrong tram in an unfamiliar city and had to find my way back.

I learned to make myself a bowl of chicken noodle soup on Christmas Eve.

I also learned not to treat someone else’s love as my only reason to stay alive.

In the spring of my third year, a collection of long-lost rare books that I had helped conserve went

on display.

The institute put my name forward to return home and take part in a joint exhibition.

When the email arrived, I stared at it for a long time.

Then I clicked Accept.

Julian was standing beside me.

“Are you scared?”

I shook my head.

“No. I’m not the one who should be afraid.”