Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother novel Chapter 279

We drove in utter silence.

Kester tapped away on his phone and tab. His attention was absorbed in anything but me.

He was almost ignoring my entire existence as if he had already moved past the damage he had caused. I stared out the window, barely blinking, my reflection smudged against the dark glass.

It seemed like luring a fish out of the water and letting die out there. He had just broken the news of us to everyone, pulled the rug out from under my feet, stripping me of every loved one I would have turned to for warmth whenever I needed, and now, he was actually ignoring me.

Good thing I had some time to reflect on many things, including the anonymous person who hadn’t sent me any texts for the past two days.

I didn’t know if I should be worried or relieved.

The car came to a stop in the parking lot, and the mini convoy that drove with us also came to a halt.

Before Kester could so much as move, I pushed open the door and climbed out. I couldn’t stand being near him. I just needed to go into my room, bury my head in the pillows, and cry out my heart.

But the moment I stepped into the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks.

What in the name of Selene is this?

My eyes scanned the vast living room.

The entire place was different.

The walls every single one of them

–

were covered with pictures of me.

Paintings. Canvases. Polaroids.

Some were massive, taking up half a wall. Some were so small you could miss them if you weren’t looking hard enough. But they were all of me. Everywhere I turned, there I was.

Some were pictures from my phone. There was no need to ask how he got them.

Others were from my old photo albums, while there were some I didn’t even remember taking.

A painting of me sitting by a lake with my hair blowing across my face. Can’t remember taking that.

A photo of me laughing so hard I had to cover my mouth, caught mid–moment. No memory of it either.

Another one… I was right by the fireplace. Thankfully, I recognized it immediately.

I was seventeen, and it was a sunny afternoon.

I was holding my puppy

Zeus

—

the tiny ball of golden fur wriggling in my arms while I grinned like an idiot. However, I gifted her out to a sweet little girl from our pack who loved her as much as I did.

“Why…?” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat and tried again. Why are my pictures everywhere?”

Then he shrugged – just a small, casual roll of his shoulders – and said, “Because you own this house now.” His eyes stayed locked on mine. “And because you’re the only thing I want to see when I walk through that door.”