The hallway was silent, but the master room's door was slightly ajar. Sounds were coming from inside—Elisha's groaning. I panicked, my heart racing. Was she being hurt? I rushed toward the door, but seeing the scene inside, my eyes remained wide open. The ground beneath my feet shifted. My face turned red with embarrassment, and I laughed at my own naivety. Inside, Elisha was completely naked, lying face down on the bed. Blackwell was on top of her, his body muscular and dominating. He was thrusting forcefully, with each movement Elisha's screams emerged—a mix of pain and... something else? She was moaning, her hands clutching the sheets. The room smelled of sweat and desire. Blackwell's face was cruel, as if he was closing a business deal, not making love. Elisha's eyes were closed, but her expressions... she had surrendered. I had never witnessed such an intense scene—this was California's dark side, where rich people use their power.
I quickly turned around, my heartbeat so loud it felt audible outside. I ran and entered the nearest room. I didn't know whose it was—the door was just open. Inside it was dark, but someone was on the bed. I quickly lay down on one side of the bed, hiding under the blanket. I felt embarrassed, but also excited? Just then, someone's hand came over me. I jumped up in fear, "Who is it?" The person also jumped out of bed. He quickly turned on the bedside lamp. In the light, his face... I was stunned. "You're here?" I said. He was also shocked, "You... how are you here?" His voice was familiar—Henry. My Henry, college friend, who always supported me. But here? "This is my house," he said, his eyes wide. He was only in boxers, his body athletic, as if he spent hours in the gym. California college kids are like this—surfing, hiking, perfect bodies.
I said, "Nothing, I came with my sister." He was about to say something, but I placed my finger on his lips. "Shhhh... don't say anything. I'm feeling sleepy." He smiled, but there was something in his eyes—desire? I lay down with my head on his shoulder. His body was warm, heartbeat fast. We were close in college, but never like this. The silence of the night, the house's mystery, and the scene I'd just witnessed—everything excited me. Henry came over me, slowly. He slid my top off, his hands soft on my skin. I smiled, "Henry..." He kissed my neck, then moved lower. His hands went to my breasts, massaging softly. I arched, the feeling intense. Such moments are common in California nights—hookups after parties—but this was different, darker.
He removed my pants, slowly. I became naked beneath him. He was looking at me, like at a treasure. Then, slowly he entered me. I lost myself in pleasure, a moan escaped. "Oh, Henry..." He was slow at first, then increased speed. Each thrust deeper, harder. My whimpers were escaping, "Faster, Henry... faster." He was grunting, his body sweaty. The room had only our sounds—breaths, moans. I dug my nails into his back, the climax building. He went faster, I screamed. Then, he released inside me, a hot feeling. We lay panting, drenched in sweat. "What just happened?" I whispered. He laughed, "You tell me." We talked—about college, about the future. California's dreams, startups, but there was something hidden in his voice. Then, deep sleep came, in his arms.
The next morning, sunlight was streaming through the windows. A servant knocked on the door, "Breakfast ready, Miss." I got up, Henry had already left. I took a quick shower—the bathroom was luxurious, with a jacuzzi tub. Downstairs, Blackwell and Henry were seated at the dining table. The table had California-style breakfast: avocado toast, fresh juice, organic fruits. Blackwell was drinking coffee, reading the newspaper—probably the business section, where he tracks his competitors. Henry was casual, in a t-shirt. I sat down, "Where's sis?" Just then Elisha arrived, limping. Her legs were trembling, face tired but flushed. She sat down, eyes downcast. I understood everything—the intensity of the night had exhausted her. Blackwell smiled, "Good morning, Evelyn. Meet my son, Henry."
Hearing this, the food came out of my mouth. I choked, life stuck in my throat. Henry's face turned pale, he was also shocked. "What?" I thought. If Henry is his son, then Elisha is his wife—meaning Henry's stepmother? And Elisha is Henry's stepmother? And I... what am I? Memories of last night flashed—our intimate moment. Now it felt like incest, dark. The house's atmosphere became tense. Blackwell raised an eyebrow, "Something wrong?" Henry looked at me, panic in his eyes. Suspense hung in the air—what was this family hiding? Blackwell's business, his mafia connection, and now this twist. My world turned upside down.
So Elisha was Henry's stepmother? And I... I had spent the entire night with him, felt his body, been inside... Oh God, this felt like incest. The sunshine-filled California morning, where people normally do yoga or chill in coffee shops, had become a nightmare for me. Silence spread across the dining table, only the clinking of forks and Blackwell's coffee sips breaking it.
Blackwell raised his brow, his eyes scanning me. "Evelyn, are you okay? Looks like you saw something shocking." His voice was low but threatening—as if he was questioning someone in a business meeting. Elisha looked at me, her eyes worried. She was still limping, the exhaustion of the night clear on her face. "Ev, what happened?" she said, but her voice was weak. Henry lowered his face, his hands gripping the table tightly. I quickly picked up the water glass, took a quick sip. "Nothing, just... choked. The avocado toast was a bit dry," I lied with a fake smile. California people always handle it this way—fake it till you make it. But inside, my mind was spinning. Henry... my Henry, who did late-night studies with me in college, walked on the beach with me, he was here as Blackwell's son? And that moment last night... the memory of his touch sent chills across my skin. Guilt, attraction, confusion—everything mixed together.
Blackwell laughed, but the laugh was cold. "Well, welcome to the family, Evelyn. Henry, introduce yourself properly." Henry lifted his head, his eyes met mine for a second—panic and... hunger? "Hi, Evelyn. Good to see you... again," he said, voice controlled but his eyes had that flash reminding me of last night. I swallowed, "Yeah, good to see you too, Henry." Elisha gave a confused look. "You two know each other?" she said. Henry quickly said, "Yeah, Berkeley. Common friends." I nodded, but my heart was pounding. The relationship... or whatever it was, had now become a dark secret. No one should find out—not Blackwell, not Elisha. In California's privacy culture, keeping secrets is easy, but this was home, where walls could hear.
Breakfast ended, but tension hung in the air. Blackwell checked his phone, took a quick call. "Yes, handle it. No loose ends," he said, voice low. I heard—contract? Murder? My mind panicked again. Elisha held my hand, "Ev, let's go to the garden. Fresh air needed." We got up, Henry gave me a glance—warning? Or invitation? The garden was in the backyard, with the infinity pool, where you could catch glimpses of the Pacific Ocean. California mornings are perfect—sunshine, breeze views, but today everything felt dark. Elisha and I sat on the poolside bench. She still looked weak, her legs crossed. "Last night... was hard," she whispered. "He's... intense. But I don't know, Ev. Something feels off."
I held her hand. "Sis, you don't have to stay. We can find a way." But Elisha shook her head. "Mom has set everything up. And... his money. Our house, my tuition. I can't back out." Tears came to her eyes. I hugged her, but Henry was spinning in my mind. If Elisha is Henry's stepmom, then our relationship... what is it? Friends with benefits? Or something darker? Sister-in-law's brother? No, stepbrother... God. Guilt ate me up, but that feeling from last night—his touch, his thrusts—stirred my body. I was tangled, confused. Elisha sighed. "Henry... he seems nice. But I heard about the Blackwell family. Dark rumors." I nodded but said nothing. The mystery was growing—Blackwell's business war, those calls, and now these family ties.
Afternoon came, and activity started in the house. Servants were preparing lunch—fresh seafood salad, California rolls, wine. Blackwell was in a meeting, in his study—visible through glass walls, where he was typing something on his laptop. Probably some deal, or... contract. Henry had disappeared somewhere. I sent Elisha to rest and started wandering around. The mansion was huge—library, gym, home theater. I entered the library, book collections on the shelves—thrillers, business books, and some locked drawers. California's rich people live like this, secrets locked. Just then, the door closed. I turned—Henry. He was in a t-shirt and joggers, sweaty, as if he'd come from the gym. "What the hell, Evelyn?" he whispered, eyes intense.