My boss; My Stepbrother
1200 Words
He came out dripping wet.
Hair damp.
A single white towel clinging to his waist.
I froze.
So did he.
It wasn’t just anyone who walked out of the shower.
It was him.
Luca Zhao.
The man I’d seen in magazines, interviews, and posters I glued above my orphanage bunk and worshipped for years.
The man I had dreamed of having a romantic dinner night with.
My idol.
Only to now find him standing in front of me, dripping wet, in nothing but a white towel clinging low around his waist.
My heart practically stopped.
My brain? Gone.
Excitement got the best of me, and without thinking…
I hugged him.
Yes.
I hugged a half-naked billionaire.
Luca stiffened, then he hugged me back.
“Uh... excuse me, we were supposed to meet in my office?”
Oh God.
OH GOD.
What was I doing!?
I snapped out of it mid-hug. After hearing the word office, my eyes widened in horror.
I jumped back like I’d touched fire.
“I—I am so sorry... I'm just a fan,” I stammered as my brain finally flew back into place.
Before I could run out, she walked in—Miss Harper, looking like the devil’s Delilah in heels.
Her eyes darted between Luca’s bare chest and me, and just like that, her tone flipped from cool and polite to ice cold.
“Can’t you do a single thing? So sorry, Mr. Luca. I’ll get rid of her immediately.”
Her voice was final—like she was throwing me out with the trash.
As she barked, “C’mon, get moving,” hearing the phrase get moving showed me that my vibrant, impulsive fangirl actions had just written my resignation letter before I was even employed.
I braced myself for suspension, or worse—termination.
Without even consulting me, Miss Harper grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out.
Just as we were near the door, Luca’s voice rang out—calm but commanding.
“No. She stays. Take her to my office. The real one. Sixtieth floor.”
That one sentence…
That one sentence told me I wasn’t the only one glad I got another chance. It told me we were two—but the third person in the room wasn’t so happy about it.
Miss Harper turned to me slowly.
Her eyes weren’t cold anymore—they were boiling with something between rage and jealousy.
“Mr. Luca, are you really going to tolerate her misconduct? This is totally unacceptable.”
“Harper,” Luca said smoothly, “listen to what I told you. Don’t outdo yourself.”
That wasn’t a suggestion or a statement.
That was a warning.
She was flaming inside, but I didn’t care—because with Luca there, her fire couldn’t burn me.
“Follow me,” she hissed like a child being forced to apologize.
I followed, because what choice did I have?
Inside the elevator, her manicured finger with bloody red polish slammed the button for the 60th floor.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” she said, still not looking at me. “That little act downstairs… huh?”
“I didn’t plan that, I swear—”
“Save it,” she snapped, cutting me off.
“Just know this, Seraph—or whatever your name is—he might’ve gone soft today, but he doesn’t keep mistakes around for long. Enjoy the moment while it lasts.”
I swallowed hard.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, slicing through the tension.
We stepped into a corridor lined with luxury.
Miss Harper led me to a glass door with gold handles and waved me in.
“You’re free to pretend losing your way again,” she scoffed, slamming the door hard behind me.
Seeing this new, venomous version of Miss Harper made me promise something to myself:
If I ever got fully into the internship program, I would never mess with her again.
The way she talked around Mr. Luca, tossing orders like she owned the place, told me everything.
She wasn’t just a secretary. She was someone who had real power here.
Someone you didn’t step on... if you wanted to survive.
Being in Luca Zhao’s office felt nothing short of a miracle.
Just hours ago, I had been on that cold, smooth bench, holding onto my mother’s bag like it was the last thing grounding me.
And now… here I was.
Inside his office. But as time dragged by, I started preferring the bench over the empty office.
Though I waited patiently, he still hadn’t shown up, and I didn’t want to look desperate.
But boredom started creeping in.
Eventually, I stood up. Just a little walk around his office. Nothing nosy—just curious eyes scanning the shelves and the polished desk lined with neat folders.
Everything looked rich.
Everything smelled expensive and corporate.
Just as I was about to take my seat… something caught my attention.
A thick black book. Older than the rest. Worn on the edges. Tucked in the back of the top-right shelf.
And sticking out of it… a photo.
I paused.
Then gently, I pulled it out, dusted it, and opened the book.
The first photo made my heart thump.
A young Luca, maybe ten years old. Standing beside a tall man in a tuxedo. Proud. Looked familiar.
Too familiar.
The man had a bold, upward-tilted moustache—brown and thick, almost like it smiled on its own.
Just like Mr. Fernandez’s.
My dad’s best friend.
No. It couldn’t be.
I blinked, trying to shake the thought—because I hadn’t seen Mr. Fernandez in ten years, not since I was taken to the orphanage.
I was about to place the album back when—another photo slipped out and fell at my feet.
I bent to pick it up.
And froze.
It was… my mom.
Wearing a white wedding dress.
Smiling like she held the world in her hands.
Standing next to her… was the same man I saw in the first picture, which I now figured out was Mr. Fernandez. The moustache. The smug smile, which showed how cocky he was.
His arm was around my mother’s waist like she belonged to him.
And in front of them…
A small boy in a suit.
Holding a pillow with two rings.
Which was Luca.
I staggered back, clutching the photo like it might grow wings and fly away.
No way.
I turned it over.
In faded pen, it read:
“Fernandez & Dalia’s Wedding – Luca age 9.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Fernandez. My mother. Luca… in a family photograph.
The walls felt like they were spinning.
Still couldn’t believe the fact that he was…
Luca Zhao was
my stepbrother.
And I had just hugged him.
The man I idolized. The man I dreamed of marrying…
We were tied—by name, by title, and by the very secrets that destroyed my past.
I suddenly felt sick.
Like the ground I was standing on… wasn’t even mine anymore.
Just as I was getting a grip on myself—
Luca walked in.
And his eyes went straight to the album in my hands.
-
- Writer
