Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother

Chapter 189

"Excuse me, ma'am," I called out, stepping back up to the desk.

She exhaled, rolling her eyes like I was the biggest inconvenience of her day. "Yes, Kasmine," she drawled, her voice laced with exhaustion. "What now?"

I dropped the file on the desk between us. "These records aren't... sufficient." I tapped the thin folder with my fingertips, keeping my voice steady even as irritation licked at my nerves. "Some vital information seems to be missing. Is there a mix-up somewhere?"

She didn't even pretend to care. Her eyes flicked to the file, then back to me, her expression blank with careful disinterest.

"This is all there is on Kester Hamilton's records," she said flatly. "I'm sorry."

The apology was false, lacking any real sincerity. It only fueled the slow burn of frustration rising in my chest.

I leaned in slightly. "I'd like to speak to someone else. A doctor. Someone who was actually in charge of his case."

I was also losing my patience. I didn't know what game she was playing, but I wouldn't let

her win.

"You have to leave, or I'll call security on you, ma'am," Her tone turned unfriendly.

There it was. The shift.

She wasn't just annoyed anymore. She was... nervous. Her fingers twitched slightly as she glanced around, her eyes darting toward the nearest security guard stationed near the

exit.

Why?

I met her gaze, watching closely. And that's when I saw it-fear.

almost as if they had been compelled to

any

1/4

(Chanter n

person who

did I feel there was more to this womanis

want these

of adrenaline through me, but I forced

idea slipped

glance at the clock on the waill. 1)

Perfect.

more hours until the close of

on my face and met her glare, Thanks, ma'am. Sorry for bothering

of her

KESTER.

room and was greeted by a troubling

auted up on the couch, her shoulders tense, her arms wrappezilarmu herself like she was trying to

everything I needed

Something was wrong-

my father sat at the mini wine bar with his fingers curledlamunda crystal glass of his favorite whiskey. He swirled

I ignored him.

Chapter 189

five-foot-three bastard-the man whose face, whose damn existence, was almost a

resemblance was one that even the blind could see. The same deep, green eyes. The same angular features, carved with an authority that demanded obedience. But where he wore his power like a carefully tailored suit, I

say. But this particular apple? It rolled far, grew sharper and more

more dangerous version of my father. And the best part?

control over it.