Claimed By My Stepbrother novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Camila POV

I woke to the shrill blare of my alarm, a sound so piercing it could’ve been ripped straight from the climax of a horror movie. Fitting, really, considering my life had taken a hard left into nightmare territory since moving in with Greg and his deranged son- a bona

fide psycho and, to top it off, a goddamn stalker.

Groaning, I smacked the snooze button and rolled over, burying my face into my pillow. Five more minutes, I promised myself, which was clearly a lie because five minutes always turned into twenty. But nope, not today. I couldn’t risk being late again, not with Mom already giving me the talk about “responsibility” and how I needed to “set a good example” to others like I actually give a fuck.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled toward the bathroom. The cold tiles sent a

shiver up my spine, jolting me awake. I turned on the shower, waited for the water to heat

up, and stepped under the spray, letting the warmth wash away the grogginess. Shampoo,

conditioner, body wash- the usual routine. The smell of vanilla and citrus filled the

bathroom, making me feel a little more human.

Once I was out, I wrapped myself in a towel and wiped the steam off the mirror. My

reflection stared back at me, disheveled and half–asleep. Great. Just great. I ran a comb

through my hair, wincing at the knots. Why did my hair always decide to have a meltdown

on school mornings?

After what felt like an eternity, I finally got it under control, letting it fall into loose waves. A dab of lip oil, a spritz of perfume- okay, maybe a bit too much perfume- and I was good to go. Or so I thought. My favorite jeans had somehow gone missing, leaving me with a pair that was just a tad too snug. Fantastic. I paired it with a simple white top and a flannel shirt, hoping I looked effortlessly casual instead of trying too hard to be

effortless.

Satisfied- or as satisfied as I could be- I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. I opened the door, my hand still on the doorknob when I froze.

There he was.

Ethan. The unhinged psycho himself.

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Chapter 13

Standing right outside my door like he owned the entire damn house.

Okay, fine- technically, he sort of did, but that wasn’t the point.

“What the actual- I started, but he cut me off before I could finish.

*Camila,” he said, his voice calm and unbothered, “breakfast is ready.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?*

“Breakfast. Downstairs.”

I stared at him, my brain stumbling over itself trying to make sense of the situation. Did I hear that right?

Was he seriously trying to play mommy dearest right now? Or was this some kind of

bizarre power move I hadn’t signed up for?

“What do you expect me to say to that?” I asked, incredulous. “Okay, Mum?”

He didn’t even flinch. His face stayed perfectly blank, like this was a completely

normal interaction.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Not even close.

A “normal” interaction with him usually involved standing a few feet away, lurking in silence, and staring into my soul like he was trying to decode the secrets of the universe- or plan my murder. Probably both.

“I’m just passing on the message,” he said with a shrug. “Greg said to make sure you’re eating before school.”

Oh, so now he was Greg’s messenger boy? What’s next? A carrier pigeon?

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I muttered, stepping past him and refusing to make eye contact. The last thing I wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled

1. me.

The kitchen was already buzzing with activity when I got there. Mom was setting the table, humming a tune that I vaguely recognized. Greg was sipping his coffee, looking like he had stepped straight out of a magazine ad for “cool stepdads.”

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Chapter 13

“Good morning, sweetheart! Mom chirped, planting a kiss on my cheek.

“Morning,” I mumbled, sliding into a chair.

Ethan strolled in a few seconds later, sitting across from me. He didn’t say anything. just grabbed a piece of toast and started buttering it like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“So,” Mom began, her eyes sparkling, “are you excited for school today?”

“Thrilled,” I deadpanned, reaching for the orange juice.

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