He Hides His Identity for My Stepsister

“I made a decision already,” I said, holding the phone to my ear. “For the sake of your illegitimate daughter, I’m going to marry that vegetative guy from the Hale family.”

“Yes! That’s the right choice!” my father said with pride thick in his voice. “You’re a good sister, Freya. And surely Ivy will be so happy to hear about it. I’ll get the wedding dress ready for you.”

I nodded, not really caring about it. I just wanted to leave the house as soon as possible.

He added, “I will also give you a private estate outside the city. Large, modern. Peaceful. A perfect start to your new life, and a twenty-million.”

My throat tightened. “Why are you suddenly so generous?”

“Because you’re doing this for your sister, and I want to reward you for that. I’m so proud of you.”

He sounded so proud of me for saving the daughter of the woman he betrayed my mother with. How ironic. All those years, no matter how many achievements I racked up, he never once told me he was proud.

“And one more thing,” he added. “You’ll have to give up Jaxon. I’ll assign him to Ivy from now on. You won’t need a butler once you marry into the Hale family. You’ll have more assistants than you’ll ever need in that house. But Ivy… she’s delicate. And she trusts him. He’s good for her.”

“No,” I said immediately, my voice cracking for the first time tonight. “Jaxon is my personal butler. He’s the only person I have.”

There was a short pause. Then my father’s voice turned cold. “Not anymore. Ivy needs him more. She’s fragile. You understand, right?”

I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood. As I stood there frozen, memories crashed into me.

My mother used to be the brightest woman I knew until the day she learned about the mistress of my father, and their child Ivy. A three-month-younger illegitimate daughter my father shamelessly brought into our home.

My mother was also pregnant with my supposed to be baby brother, but overwhelmed by grief, she went into labor too early. The baby didn't make it and neither did she.

After that, loneliness became my shadow. I stopped studying. I stopped smiling. Night after night, I snuck out to the clubs—dancing recklessly, drinking until I couldn't remember my name, trying to drown the ache.

That’s when I first saw Jaxon. He wasn’t like the other guys at the bar. He was just charming, and I fell in love at first sight.

I tried to get his attention. I laughed a little too loudly at jokes near him, leaned in when I spoke to other men just to see if he’d glance my way, wore dresses a little shorter and heels a little higher, accidentally brushed my fingers against his arm when reaching for a drink, let my perfume linger in the air around him, asked him for help tying the strap of my dress just to feel his fingers graze my skin, pretended to twist my ankle so he would have to catch me, sent him playful winks across the room, and once even drunkenly rested my head on his shoulder, but no matter what I did, he never once looked at me the way I desperately wanted him to.

I should have forgotten him. Until later, when the old butler assigned to me fell gravely ill, we needed a replacement.

Jaxon showed up again but this time, he was introduced as the butler’s son I wasn’t even aware of.

I thought fate had finally given me a piece of kindness. I thought finally, we would be close. But reality came crashing down again because lies always have a way of finding daylight.

One night, coming back from a late event, I overheard him on the phone in the garden.

"Jaxon, come home already," the caller had said. "Stop playing the butler’s son. You're the son of the Smith family."

"I can't," Jaxon had replied. "Ivy’s here. I want to be with her. You know I fell for her at first sight... I can’t let go. She's so fragile. I don’t want to scare her. She’s had a hard life. I want to protect her. Earn her trust. Then I’ll tell her everything. About who I really am."

"And Freya?" the voice asked.

His laugh still haunted me.

"Oh, that bitch? She’s just a stepping stone. Convenient. Nothing more."

That was the moment something inside me shattered, so I agreed to the marriage. And then now I agreed for Jaxon to be with Ivy because even if I fought for it, he would never look at me the same way he looked at her.

By the time I dragged myself back to my room, my stomach was twisting painfully. I hadn’t eaten since morning, and the untouched tray of food was now cold and congealed. I wandered down the hall toward Jaxon’s room.

"I’m hungry," I said flatly. "Can you get me something to eat?"

He blinked, almost bored. "I’m off duty now."

My brows pulled together. "So?"

"So it’s not my responsibility anymore," he replied, stepping out and brushing past me like I was no one.

I stood there, stunned, feeling smaller than I ever had in my life. And then, because fate enjoyed cruelty, it got worse.

"I’m not feeling well…" Ivy said.

I turned my head just in time to see her leaning against the doorframe, one hand daintily pressed to her forehead.

"I think I have a fever," she whispered. "And I’m craving that soup you made before… my stomach hurts. Could you… maybe…?"

Without hesitation, Jaxon turned back.

"I’ll get it," he said warmly. "Stay inside. I’ll be right back."

I turned and walked stiffly back to my room before the tears could humiliate me further. I wrapped my arms around myself. How could a human body feel so empty, and yet so unbearably heavy?

I lay in bed, not sleeping. Staring up at the ceiling as the minutes dragged into hours, feeling the hunger gnaw at my gut. Eventually, I got up, grabbed my wallet, tied my hair back, and slipped out of my room. I'd get my own food. Like I always should have.

But as I passed Ivy’s door, I slowed. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm lamplight spilling into the hallway.

And there he was. Jaxon, seated at the edge of her bed, his jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up.

He watched Ivy sleep, his posture tense but his gaze impossibly gentle like she was something rare and precious. Ivy lay curled up beneath the covers, her breathing slow, a soft flush on her cheeks.

And then, as if pulled by something deep and undeniable, Jaxon reached out.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face then kissed her lips.

Ivy stirred faintly, letting out a small sound, and Jaxon whispered against her skin: You’re mine, Ivy. Always mine. I’ll do anything for you... even if it means disregarding Freya soon to make you happy.

Then he slid into bed beside her, pulling her small frame against his chest.