Chapter 1: Whispers in the Hallway

Ethan slammed the front door harder than he meant to, the echo bouncing off the polished hardwood floors of the house that no longer felt like home. It had been two years since his dad remarried, turning their quiet bachelor pad into this pristine suburban cage with floral curtains and matching throw pillows. Now, fresh out of college with a useless degree and a mountain of debt, he was back under the same roof, crashing in his old room like a boomerang that wouldn’t stay thrown.

The air smelled of lemon cleaner and something sweeter—vanilla, maybe—from the kitchen. He dropped his duffel bag in the foyer, kicking off his boots, and headed toward the voices drifting from the living room. His stepmom, Karen, was there, perched on the edge of the couch like a queen on her throne, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, her smile too bright for someone who’d just spent the day at her yoga studio. And beside her, legs tucked under a short denim skirt that hugged her thighs like a lover’s grip, was Lila.

Lila. His stepsister. Nineteen now, all grown into curves that made his pulse stutter if he let his eyes linger too long. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, framing a face that was equal parts innocent and knowing—big brown eyes that could melt chocolate, full lips that curved into a smirk when she caught him staring. She’d been sixteen when their parents tied the knot, awkward and gangly, but time had sculpted her into something dangerous. Soft skin glowing under the lamplight, breasts straining against a thin tank top that left little to the imagination. Ethan forced his gaze away, but not before imagining how those lips would feel parting under his, how her body would arch if he traced his fingers down her spine.

“Welcome home, Ethan,” Karen said, standing to give him a perfunctory hug. Her perfume was cloying, like overripe flowers. “We’ve missed you. Dinner’s almost ready—Lila made her famous lasagna.”

Lila glanced up from her phone, her eyes meeting his for a beat too long. “Hey, bro,” she said, her voice a lazy drawl that sent a shiver down his spine. Bro. The word hung between them like a challenge, laced with something unspoken. She uncrossed her legs slowly, the skirt riding up just enough to flash a glimpse of smooth, tanned thigh. Was she doing it on purpose? Ethan’s mouth went dry.

“Yeah, hey,” he muttered, heading to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Anything to cool the heat building in his veins. The house was too small now, too filled with her presence. He could hear her laughter from the living room, light and teasing as she chatted with Karen about some college class she was taking. Art history or something—figures, she’d be into things that involved staring at naked bodies immortalized in marble.

Dinner was torture. They sat around the oak table, passing plates like a fake family in a sitcom. Karen prattled on about her latest retreat, dad nodded along from his end of the table, buried in his phone. Ethan stole glances at Lila across from him, watching the way she twirled pasta on her fork, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of sauce. Her foot brushed his under the table—accidental? He tensed, his cock twitching at the contact. She didn’t pull away immediately, her bare toes grazing his ankle, sending sparks up his leg. When she finally did, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes downcast but glittering with mischief.