It doesn’t take long for them to finally arrive at their destination, and Winter’s breath catches in her throat at the sight that greets her.
The mansion is enormous, with gleaming marble walls that reflect the sunlight, tall windows that seem to go on forever, and columns that should belong in a museum.
It looks like something out of a fairy tale, except fairy tales don’t usually fill her with this much dread.
“Oh my God,” Sarah breathes, her eyes wide with awe, her hand pressed against her chest.
“It’s… it’s beautiful, Marcus.”
“Only the best,” Marcus says, stepping out of the car and offering his hand to Sarah with practiced gallantry.
Winter follows, feeling small and insignificant as she takes in the grandeur of the mansion.
The driver opens the door for her, and she steps out onto the stone driveway, her heart pounding so hard she is sure everyone can hear it.
As they approach the front of the mansion, the massive doors open as if on cue, and three figures step out to greet them.
An elderly woman with kind eyes and silver hair pulled into a neat bun, a middle-aged man in what looks like a butler’s uniform, and a young guy around Winter’s age.
Her brows furrow as she takes him in, her breath catching slightly.
He has sharp features that look carved from stone, dark tousled hair that falls across his forehead, and a brooding expression that makes him look both handsome and intimidating.
His eyes—a striking shade of gray—sweep over her with what seems like disdain before looking away, as if she isn’t worth his attention.
Before Winter can ask who he is, Marcus steps forward with a smile and says, “Winter, I’d like you to meet my son, Drae Bond.”
He pauses, letting the words sink in before adding, “Drae, this is Winter, your new stepsister.”
Winter can’t believe it.
Her mind whirls as she stares from Drae—the son no one had bothered to mention—to Marcus.
Her eyes dart to her mother, searching for some explanation, but Sarah’s expression remains carefully neutral, as if she’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times.
Drae crosses his arms as he studies Winter with cold detachment.
His dark blue eyes sweep over her as though she is nothing more than an inconvenience, a puzzle piece forced into the wrong picture.
“So,” he says, his tone dry and dripping with sarcasm, “this is the new addition to the family. Cute.”
Winter stiffens, heat creeping up her neck.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again, unsure how to respond to his words.
“Drae,” Marcus growls beside them, his jaw tightening.
Drae doesn’t flinch.
Instead, his gaze flickers to his father, sending him all the rebellion and resentment simmering beneath the surface.
The air between them crackles with years of unspoken conflict.
“Enough of what? Politeness?”
He lets out a hollow laugh, glancing at Winter again.
“Because that would be a first in this house.”
Winter’s stomach twists into knots.
She glances at her mother, who remains quiet, her face strained but giving nothing away.
There is a depth to this situation that Winter can’t grasp, layers of family history she has no access to, and it makes her feel like she’d stepped into the middle of a storm she has no business being in.
“Drae, I’m warning you,” Marcus grunts, his voice sharper this time, edged with a threat.
Drae’s lips curl into a bitter smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Warn me all you want, Dad. It won’t change anything.”
He straightens up, uncrossing his arms in a gesture that seems almost theatrical.
“Anyway, welcome to the family, Winter,” he adds, his voice dripping with sarcasm that feels like acid on her skin.
Winter can feel the resentment in every word, feel the way the boy’s gaze slices through her like she is the source of all his problems.
She wants to tell him she hadn’t asked for this either, that she is just as blindsided as he seems to be angry.
“Thanks,” she finally mutters, though she doesn’t mean it.
What she really wants to say is screw you, but she bites her tongue hard enough to taste copper.
Drae lets out another short laugh, as if he knows exactly what she is thinking.
He turns toward Sarah, his expression shifting to something almost predatory.
“You must be the stepmother.”
Sarah manages a tense smile, though Winter can see the effort it costs her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Drae. Marcus has spoken highly of you.” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Drae raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the obvious attempt at civility.
“Has he, now? That’s funny.”
He pauses, letting the words hang in the air.
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Drae, you better respect yourself or so help me God,” Marcus warns again, his voice low and dangerous.
His patience seems to be wearing thin, fraying at the edges like old rope.
Drae holds his father’s gaze for a long moment, as if testing just how far he can push before crossing the line.
Something passes between them—a silent battle of wills that Winter doesn’t understand but can feel in her bones.
Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and walks past them, heading toward one of the sleek cars parked in the circular driveway.
“Enjoy the mansion, Winter. I’m sure you’ll love it,” he calls over his shoulder, the sarcasm biting in his voice as he slides into the car, slams the door with unnecessary force, and drives off, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Winter’s ears ring with it.
She turns to Marcus and her mother, her hands trembling slightly at her sides.
“Why did you both keep this from me?” she finally asks, her voice smaller than she’d intended.
Sarah sighs, casting a quick glance at Marcus before meeting her daughter’s gaze.
Guilt flickers across her features.
“We didn’t want to overwhelm you. There’s been so much change already.”
“Overwhelm me?” Winter repeats, disbelief evident in her tone.
Her voice rises despite her efforts to control it.
“How could you think springing this on me was the better option? I just met a stepbrother I didn’t know existed!”
Marcus, standing off to the side with a furrowed brow and crossed arms, cuts in before Sarah can respond.
“We thought it best to introduce you in person. It’s not exactly easy to explain everything over a hurried introduction.”
Winter shakes her head, incredulous.
Her chest feels tight, like someone has wrapped bands around her ribs.
“So you thought it’d be easier for me to meet your son when I’m completely blindsided? How does that make any sense?”