Claimed By My Stepbrother novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Camila POV

I leaned closer to the mirror, squinting at the chaos in front of me. Was that… dont on my cheek? Great lost Flori Muttering a curse under my breath, I turned on the faucet and copped my hande under the ley stream. The firet splash o cold water hit my skin like a slap, shocking but not exactly transformative. I tried again, more aggressively mis tinie, as të. scrubbing harder would erase the evidence of whatever cosmic joke had landed me here.

But sadly, it didn’t work. I was still a mess.

After a quick shower, I brushed my teeth with a half–hearted effort and lazily tied my hair into a lone ponytail. Honestly, it wasn’t like I was aiming for perfection here. My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, unimpressed, but I shrugged it off. Who cared? Definitely not me.

1 rummaged through my wardrobe, ignoring the pile of clothes I had been meaning to fold for days, leans and a hoodie caught my eye, and I grabbed them without a second thought. Simple, comfortable, and absolutely zero effort hist the vibe I was going for. I tugged on the jeans, a little snug around the waist, and zipped up the hoodie, its fabric soft and familiar, like an old friend.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting through the air.

The kitchen was warm and cozy, the kind of atmosphere that made you forget how chaotic mornings could be. My mom was at the stove, flipping pancakes, while Greg, her fiance- or whatever we were supposed to call him now- was planted at the table with his coffee in one hand and the morning paper spread out before him. He looked annoyingly at ease, like a picture–perfect dad from a cheesy commercial, though I wasn’t anywhere near ready to slap that label on him yet. It was still weird seeing him there, fitting into this space that used to feel so exclusively ours.

Ethan was already there too, of course, quietly eating his food like he wasn’t the most bizarre and unhinged human being I’d ever encountered.

“Good morning!” my mom chirped, sliding a plate of pancakes onto the table.

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

The sound of forks clinking against plates filled the room as everyone settled into their breakfast. For a moment, it was almost… peaceful.

Then my mom broke the silence.

“So, Ethan,” she began, her tone casual. Too casual. “With your car tire down, how are you getting to school today?”

My fork froze midair, the pancake piece hovering awkwardly. I glanced at Ethan out of the corner of my eye, but he was still focused on his food, completely unfazed.

“I’ll take the bus,” he said calmly, cutting into his pancakes.

Chills ran down my spine, and I shot him a sharp glare. His gaze remained glued to his plate, like he hadn’t just thrown my entire morning into chaos.

“The bus?” my mom echoed, looking concerned. “Why don’t you just take my car? It’s no trouble at all.”

Chapter 29

Ethan shook his head, his expression neutral. No, thank you

Greg chimed in, his tone firm. Then take mine. You don’t need to go through the hassle of publie trane OMALLE

But Ethan shook his head again, stubborn as ever. I’m fine with the bus.”

I stabbed my pancake with more force than necessary, trying to keep nty cool. It was crazy how much I actually triest to convince myself that I was just being paranoid, letting my imagination run wild about Ethan. But no- this giry is an actual, full–blown psycho. Like, certifiable. The kind you see in true crime documentaries.

He had slashed his own damn tire so he could ride the bus to school with me. Yeah, because nothing screams ‘stable like sabotaging your own transportation for a little extra stalking time.

A sudden wave of chills ran down my spine.

If there was a handbook on red flags, Ethan had written it and included a whole appendix dedicated to his ow

behavior.

“Well,” my mom said after a pause, “if you’re taking the bus, then you’ll be going with Camila, right?”

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