My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 221: Rich People Problems

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The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, the room was already buzzing with activity. Maids flitted around like they were on a mission, they were opening closet doors, laying out garment bags, and wheeling in trays of hot coffee and pastries, as if we were gearing up for a royal event instead of just a two-hour flight.

Someone had already drawn back the heavy silk curtains, flooding the suite with pale winter light that bounced off the mirrors in bright flashes. My phone read 7:42 a.m., which meant we were officially running late, and in Keith Fell’s world, being late was basically a crime.

I barely had a moment to rub the sleep from my eyes before a maid...Maria, I think, appeared with a tray of fresh orange juice and a warm croissant.

"Mr. Noah, we need to hurry. The car leaves for the airport in thirty minutes."

I mumbled something unintelligible, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stumbled into the bathroom, where another maid was already running the shower and laying out the outfit Mom picked: a soft gray cashmere sweater, tailored black trousers, and ankle boots that probably cost more than what I paid in rent for my old apartment. Everything had this faint scent of lavender and wealth.

By the time I stepped out, hair still damp and hastily styled, Adrien was leaning against the doorway, dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that made his eyes look striking. He held two travel mugs like they were offerings of peace.

"Ready for your maiden voyage, princess?" he smirked.

I snatched the coffee from him. "If you call me princess one more time, I swear I’m spilling this on your shoes."

He laughed, following me downstairs, where Mom was directing the final luggage loading in the foyer like a general. Keith was on his phone, looking sharp in a navy coat, while the driver stood by the open door of the black Escalade.

No one mentioned the fight. No apologies, no questions about how well I slept. Just this brisk efficiency and an unspoken agreement that we were all going to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

The ride to the private airfield was quiet except for soft classical music playing from the speakers. I gazed out the window at the snow-covered landscape whizzing by, trying not to dwell on the fact that I was about to board a plane for the first time.

Sure, I had seen it in movies...people sipping champagne at thirty thousand feet, looking effortlessly glamorous, but the reality was suddenly very real and intimidating.

We arrived at a sleek terminal that resembled a boutique hotel more than an airport. A flight attendant in a crisp navy uniform greeted us on the tarmac, all smiles.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Fell, Mr. Adrien, Mr. Noah. We’re ready for takeoff whenever you are."

The jet was a lot bigger than I imagined...sleek white with the Fell family crest on the tail (yes, apparently they did have one) but stepping inside took my breath away.

It was pure luxury: soft cream leather seats that looked inviting enough to nap in, polished wood paneling, a full bar with crystal glasses sparkling in the light, thick cream carpet underfoot, and a small dining area adorned with fresh flowers.

The lights were soft and golden, a far cry from the harsh fluorescents of commercial flights. Even the little pillows had the family’s initials embroidered on them.

Mom settled into one of the wide seats by the window, immediately pulling out her tablet. Keith took the seat across the aisle, unfurling a newspaper with the ease of someone who had done this many times. Adrien guided me to the back, where two seats faced each other across a small table.

I sank into the leather seat, my fingers instinctively curling around the armrests as the flight attendant closed the door with a gentle thud.

Adrien was looking at me, clearly amused. "You look like you’re about to be executed."

"I...I’ve never been on a plane before," I muttered. "This is... a lot."

He leaned over the aisle and took my hand, intertwining our fingers. "Hey. It’s just a really fancy bus that flies. Nothing to worry about."

I nearly scoffed, rich people...

"Easy for you to say," I grumbled. "You’ve probably been doing this since you were in diapers."

"Actually, it was when I was six. First flight was to Disney World. I threw up on takeoff and swore I’d never fly again. Dad had to bribe me with ice cream every hour until I calmed down."

I couldn’t help but laugh.

"Look." He squeezed my hand. "Just breathe. Look out the window, the view is worth it."

The engines started whining, ramping up to a steady roar that vibrated through the cabin. My grip on his hand tightened as the plane taxied and then sped down the runway. When the wheels finally left the ground, my stomach dropped, and I gasped.

Adrien’s thumb trailed over my knuckles. "You’re doing great. Just keep looking at me."

I did, and his eyes were steady and calm, totally unafraid. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders melted away. The plane leveled off, and I dared to glance outside

...the endless white clouds below us looked like cotton fields, the sun glinting off them in dazzling bursts.

"See?" he murmured. "Nothing to be scared of."

Mom glanced over at one point, tablet in hand, expression expressionless. She didn’t ask how I was. No comment on my death grip on Adrien’s hand. Just returned to whatever email she was reading, as if the silence between us was completely normal.

It stung more than I wanted to admit.

The rest of the flight was relatively quiet. Keith read his newspaper. Mom typed away. Adrien and I swapped stories, his embarrassing childhood vacations, and my memory of the one time I almost went to a water park but got chickenpox instead.

We laughed softly, hands still entwined, as the clouds drifted by beneath us.

Eventually, I dozed off, my head resting against the window, with Adrien’s thumb still tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand.

I woke up to the flight attendant’s gentle voice: "Mr. Noah? We’ve started our descent into Hayseville."

I blinked, a bit disoriented, then glanced outside.

The city sprawled below like a glittering jewel box...neon lights even in daylight, palm trees lining wide boulevards, hotels shaped like pyramids, spheres, and golden towers. It looked like Las Vegas had decided to colonize the desert and succeeded impressively.

Adrien leaned over my shoulder. "Welcome to Hayseville," he said, grinning.

I gulped, a mix of nerves and wonder bubbling up inside me.