In Love With My Evil Stepbrother

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Chapter 41: Ex-wife It’s like a bucket of ice water being poured down my head. My whole body goes cold. I finally realize this: Eason was waiting for this chance all along. He never supported me of getting this job. But he also perfectly well that if he asks me to turn it down, I’d never agree. So he waits for everyone to be present and then spill it out. That way mom and Mr. Ramirez can be the bad guy for him.

That manipulative, cold blooded bastard!

I’m so damn mad. I feel like I’ve been played.

“Nat?” mom urges me, waiting anxiously for my answer. I take in a deep breath, “yeah that’s true.” The scar has been ripped open already. No need to cover it further.

“What? Why!” mom tightens her grip on the napkin till her knuckles go white. “What made you believe that you need to get a part-time job? Do you need money?”

Yes I need money! I want to scream at her. I need the money to go to college and start my own damn life, so that I don’t need to become some trophy wives who live on allowance like she does!

But those thoughts are just too harsh. And our family lawyer is here, and I can’t embarrass mom in front of him. So after a long pause, I simply spit out a few words, “Yeah I need money. And I want to make them myself.” Mom sucks in a sharp inhale as if she has heard something absurd. “Natalia,” Mr. Ramirez joins our awkward conversation. “If you want a job, you are welcome to do a paid internship at my company. It’ll also help your resume.” “Thank you sir, but I’m fine with my current job,” I say dryly, trying to sound as respectful as possible.

Eason, who’s sitting right across me, suddenly leans forward his upper body. His eyes gleam with a very familiar light that I now recognize it as evil. He gives me a cold smile before saying, “Nat, and who set you up with this coffee house job again?” My heart literally stops. I want to pick up the knife and stab it into his smug face.

“I found it myself,” I snap. “Oh I don’t think that’s the case at all,” Eason says icily. “It was Alex, right? He gave you the interview and put you in danger.”

“What? Are you fucking out of your mind? How dare you accuse Alex— ” I yell.

“Alex?” mom gasps. “Your boyfriend?”

Eason snorts, “Yes her boyfriend, who by the way seems to have zero concern about Nat’s safety.”

I smack my hand down on to the table before jumping up to my feet. That’s it. I’ve had it

enough. All the accusation, manipulation and betrayal.

who gives me this job? Yes it’s Alex. Because he actually cares about my circumstances and wants to provide a solution, unlike

the same mask of shock. Eason’s face falls, his green eyes burning with fury. There’s one second that I thought he was going to jump up and slap me, but he just sits there and eyes me coldly in a

you will excuse me.” I grit out and leave the table. I storm out of the dining room, head upstairs and go into my room directly. It’s hard to believe that we were kissing and having sex just a few hours ago. But this is our relationship-bumpy, hard and toxic. The good moment is always fleeting, and we spend most

on

I’m not sure if I’ll forgive him but I definitely want him to

But no.

a long time. No one showed

fuck of how I feel. Sadness and angry surge up in me as I take out my phone

(This is too much.)

the moment and immediately regret it. It’s stupid to break

this. So I sit there holding my phone,

another hour

back ever. The phone slips through my

***

I haven’t heard back from him since. No texts, no calls, and he doesn’t even show up at the townhouse again. My self-esteem prevents me from contacting him

I’m pathetic.

the evil asshole but

Mr. Ramirez weren’t affected by my drama. One day later, they are back to being sweet and loving again.

together

drags me to a fitting. I’m not interested in such things at all, but

I have nothing

I’m thinking white and beige. I wanted to go with rosily pink, but I was also afraid that people would call it cheesy. So basically I want to stay on the safe side. So do

realizing that I’m staring at my phone again. Mom is standing on a platform in her newly made evening gown with three designers measuring her at the same time. She pouts staring at me, apparently upset by my distraction. “You look very beautiful, mom.” It’s a compliment but also the truth. She’s

and turns to those designers, “can you bring over the collection again? I think my daughter needs something as

fine!” I immediately decline. Those tailored