Claimed By My Step Brother

Chapter 1: The Man At The Top Of The Stairs

My mother married a billionaire on a Thursday.

By Friday I was standing in his mansion feeling like the poorest person alive.

The gates alone should have warned me.

Black iron. Tall. Cold. Opening slowly like they were deciding whether I was worth letting in.

I don't belong here.

That was my first thought.

My second thought was that it didn't matter anymore.

The car rolled through and the gates closed behind us and just like that — everything I knew was on the other side of them. Our small apartment. The neighbor's dog that barked every morning at six. Mom's jollof on Sundays. The creaky third floorboard I'd memorized so well I could avoid it in complete darkness.

Gone.

All of it.

Replaced by a mansion that looked like it had been built specifically to remind people like me how small we were.

Okay. I pressed my back teeth together. Fine. You're here. Deal with it.

"Riley, isn't it beautiful?"

Mom's voice came from the passenger seat. Soft. Breathless. Like she was looking at something holy.

I looked at her instead of the mansion.

Diana Cole — Diana Voss now, I was still getting used to that — was glowing in a way I hadn't seen since I was a child. Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright. Hands folded in her lap like a woman who had finally, finally gotten everything she ever prayed for.

She had.

That was the hardest part.

She really had.

"Yeah Mom." I managed a smile. "Beautiful."

I lied.

She didn't notice. That was fine.

Marcus Voss killed the engine.

My new stepfather. Billionaire. Silver at his temples and a face that had clearly forgotten what smiling felt like. He wasn't cruel. He wasn't warm either. He was the kind of man who looked just past your shoulder when he shook your hand.

I didn't trust men like that.

Staff appeared before we even stepped out. Three of them, moving fast and quiet, taking bags, opening doors. Practiced. Invisible. The way rich people liked their help to be.

Nobody offered to take my bag.

I grabbed it myself and followed my mother inside.

The foyer hit me like a wall.

Marble everywhere. Ceilings so high I tilted my head back just to find where they ended. A chandelier that probably cost more than my entire university education hanging above us like a threat. Flowers on every surface — fresh, expensive, replaced daily without question.

I turned slowly, taking it in.

And then every hair on my body stood up.

Someone was watching me.

I felt it before I saw it. That specific pressure on the back of your neck when eyes find you and don't bother to hide it.

I turned.

He was at the top of the staircase.

And I —

I forgot to breathe.

Tall. Tall. The kind of broad through the chest and shoulders that looked functional rather than decorative. Dark hair falling slightly across his forehead like he'd pushed a hand through it and stopped caring what came after. A jaw cut so sharp it could have been a decision someone made deliberately. Skin warm. Eyes darker than they had any right to be from this distance.

Black shirt. Dark trousers. Sleeves pushed to his elbows.

No effort. Zero performance.

The most dangerous looking person I had ever seen standing completely still.

He wasn't smiling.

He was looking at me the way people look at things they've already decided about.

My stomach dropped three floors.

Stop it. I told my own heartbeat firmly. We are not doing this.

I stared back. Kept my face flat. Refused to be the first one to look away.

Five seconds.

Neither of us moved.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted.

Just barely. Just enough. Like something he'd been privately wondering had just confirmed itself.

He turned and walked away.

Gone. Down the hallway and out of sight without a single word. Without an introduction. Without anything.

Like I wasn't worth more than one look.

Heat crawled up my neck.

"Riley." Mom touched my elbow. "That's Kai. Marcus's son." She lowered her voice slightly. "He's a little reserved. Give him time."

Reserved.

That's one word for it.

"Sure," I said.

Marcus gestured toward the interior. "Someone will show Riley to his room."

A housekeeper appeared. Led me upstairs. Down a carpeted hallway, past four doors — all double-paneled, all clearly larger than whatever was coming — and stopped at the fifth.

Single panel.

She opened it. Put my bag inside. Left without a word.

I stood in the doorway and looked at the room.

Bed. Desk. Plain cream walls. A window overlooking a garden too perfect to be natural.

The smallest room on this floor.

Deliberately.

I was certain of it.

I dropped my bag. Sat on the edge of the bed.

The mattress was firm. The silence was thick. Outside, the garden sat perfectly still in the evening light — every hedge the same height, every flower in its assigned place.

I thought about home.

Real home.

Then I stopped. Because that wasn't helpful.

I didn't mean to fall asleep.

But when I opened my eyes the room was dark and the garden lights were glowing gold through the window and I had no idea what time it was.

I lay completely still.

Listened.

The house breathed around me in that thick, expensive way. The kind of silence that costs money to maintain.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Outside my door.

Slow. Deliberate. Not trying to be quiet. The footsteps of someone who owned every inch of this floor and knew it.

My whole body went rigid.

The footsteps stopped.

Directly outside my door.

I stared at the handle.

Waiting.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Nothing.

I got up slowly. Crossed the room. Wrapped my hand around the handle and pulled the door open in one motion.

Empty hallway.

Both directions.

Completely empty.

Except —

The door at the far end.

It was clicking shut.

His door.

I stood in the cold hallway air and stared at it. Heart loud. Too loud. For absolutely no logical reason.

I stepped back inside.

And locked my door.

I had never locked a door in my life.

I stood with my back flat against it in the dark. One hand still on the lock. Trying to understand why my breathing wasn't completely steady.

I'd been in this house for six hours.

I'd seen him for less than thirty seconds.

He hadn't said a single word to me.

And somehow Kai Voss had already crawled under my skin like he'd been there the whole time.

Waiting.

This is a mistake.

That had been my first thought when the gates opened.

Standing in the dark with a locked door and a heartbeat I couldn't explain

I hadn't been wrong.