You’d spent your whole life fighting for scraps, for something better, for a life that didn’t resemble the one your father had dragged you through. And finally, after years of struggling, you had it.

Your dream job. A stable home. A perfect boyfriend.

Ethan was everything you weren’t—polished, confident, born into wealth but not corrupted by it. When he told you he wanted you to meet his family, you’d been nervous, but they were surprisingly welcoming. His mother hugged you like you already belonged, his father shook your hand firmly, and his younger sister bombarded you with questions about how you met. It felt like the life you’d always wanted.

Then his brother walked in.

And everything shifted.

Jaxon was nothing like Ethan.

Where Ethan was composed, Jaxon was chaos. Where Ethan was polite, Jaxon carried himself with an arrogance that burned. He walked into the dining room like he owned the place, his sharp eyes scanning the table before landing on you.

Within five minutes, the brothers were barking at each other, old wounds and grudges resurfacing in snarled words. Their mother pleaded for them to stop, their father rubbed his temples in frustration, and their sister sighed like this was nothing new.

next time you met.

This time, it was just the three of you at dinner—Ethan, Jaxon, and you. And it was different.

Jaxon was sharp, but he wasn’t outright cruel. You actually found yourself laughing at his dry humor, trading sarcastic remarks between sips of wine. You saw it then—the ghost of something beneath his arrogance. A flicker of charm buried under all that steel.

But the night took a turn when Ethan got drunk. Too drunk.

He passed out in the car, leaving you alone with Jaxon.

Silence stretched between you as you stood in the dim glow of the streetlights. It felt heavier than before.

“Guess it’s just us now,” Jaxon murmured, leaning against the car, watching you with those unreadable eyes.

You weren’t sure if it was a warning or a promise.