Claimed By My Stepbrother novel Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Camila POV

By the time I reached Aunt Anya’s neighborhood, the sun was higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the stree Her house stood end of a quiet cul–de–sac, surrounded by a wild garden that looked more like a jungle man

at the

anything intentional.

I walked up the uneven stone path, dodging a few overgrown branches along the way.

As I knocked on the door, a muffled “Coming!” filtered through the thick wood. From behind the door, I could already hear the faint thump of music playing something with a heavy bass that rattled the air slightly. Typical Aunt Anya. Never a dull moment in her house.

The door creaked open, and before I could even take a step inside, the strong scent of liquor and something else probably stale smoke- hit me like a wall. I coughed lightly, trying not to look too obvious about it.

“My darling!” Anya exclaimed in that throaty voice of hers, stretching out her arms dramatically as if she hadn’t seen me in years. She enveloped me in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek. The lingering scent of her perfume, mixed with the tang of cigarette smoke, clung to the air around us.

I pulled back slightly, blinking as I took in her appearance. She was dressed- if you could even call it that- in an oversized shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder, definitely not hers. I wasn’t stupid, was obviously one of her boyfriend’s shirts. The hem barely reached her mid–thigh, and I tried not to roll my eyes at how casually she pulled off the look. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, though several strands had escaped, framing her face in a wild, effortlessly messy way.

She noticed my glance at the cigarette in her hand and grinned, taking a casual drag before exhaling the smoke to the side. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” she teased, wagging a finger at me with mock seriousness. “Come in, come in. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

I stepped inside, and the warm, dim lighting wrapped around me like a cocoon. Her place was exactly as chaotic as I remembered- plants everywhere, mismatched furniture, and a faint haze in the air that hinted at more than just cigarette smoke. A half–empty bottle of something dark sat on the coffee table, next to an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts.

“You still with that boyfriend?” I asked, nodding toward the shirt she was wearing.

Anya laughed, a low, raspy sound that filled the room. “What gave it away? The shirt or the fact that he left his guitar by the couch again?” She pointed to a worn–out acoustic guitar leaning against the armrest. “Yes, we’re still on. For now, anyway.” She winked, making it clear that she wasn’t exactly planning on happily ever after with him.

I dropped my bags near the door, glancing around the room as the music switched to something slower, more melodic.

The soft strum of a guitar filled the space, mingling with the scent of vanilla candles burning on the windowsill.

Anya flicked the cigarette ash into the ashtray and gestured toward the couch. “Sit. Relax. You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

I didn’t argue. I sank into the couch, feeling the worn fabric beneath me, and let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Anya flopped down beside me, tucking one leg under her as she studied me with a curious gleam in her eyes.

s you here?

“So,” she began, twirling the gigarette between her fingers like it was some kind of fancy prop. “Wha Not that I’m complaining, of course. You know I love having you around. But something tells me this isn’t just a casual visit.”

1/2

Chapter 51

I hesitated, not sure how much I wanted to share. Anya had always been the cool aunt- the one who didn’t judge, who lived her life on her own terms. But that didn’t mean I wanted to unload all my problems on her right away.

“Needed a change of scenery,” I muttered, leaning back into the couch. “Mom’s been… difficult.”

Anya raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Difficult, huh? That’s putting it lightly.” She took another drag from her cigarette, blowing out the smoke in a slow, deliberate stream. “You and your mom have always had your differences, but this seems different. Care to elaborate?”

I rubbed my hands together, trying to find the right words. How exactly was I supposed to explain that I had witnessed something out of a horror movie and my mom thought I was crazy for it? That I was running away not just from home, but from… whatever Ethan was?

“It’s complicated,” I finally said, my voice quieter now. “Things at home have been weird lately. Mom’s too caught up in her new life with Greg and… his son. I just needed some space.”

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