My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 228: Smile For The Pictures

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Morning came in like that friend who just shows up unannounced. Sunlight streamed through the huge windows of my suite, casting everything in a warm, golden hue. I woke up to the gentle but persistent knock of hotel staff bringing in what had to be the most extravagant breakfast cart I’d ever seen.

Silver domes sparkled in the light, fresh orchids bobbed in a crystal vase, and the delicious smell of warm croissants and perfectly ripe berries drifted through the air like a luxurious scent. I sat up, my hair a messy halo, staring at the sheer opulence of it all.

The attendant beamed at me, said something about "compliments of the house," and slipped away before I could even get a full thank-you out. Alone again, I lifted the first dome to uncover fluffy scrambled eggs topped with truffle, a mountain of caviar next to blinis the size of silver dollars, and a chilled glass of champagne fizzing like it was offended by gravity.

This really was the life...

I should’ve felt spoiled, but instead, I just felt a bit silly, like I’d accidentally stumbled into someone else’s life and they hadn’t caught on yet.

I ate slowly, almost mechanically, the flavors exquisite yet somehow distant. My phone buzzed on the nightstand—Adrien.

Adrien 💀: Morning, Hamster. Made it through the night without turning into a pumpkin?

Adrien 💀: You’ve got this tonight. We’ve got this. Just remember breathe and try not to faceplant on the floor.

A small laugh escaped me despite everything. I typed back with buttery fingers.

Me: If I trip and face-plant in front of three hundred people, I’ll just say you tripped me.

Adrien 💀: Then I’ll catch you mid-fall. Heroic slow-motion style like in one of your dumb novels. Deal?

Me: My novels aren’t dumb, you are.

I pressed the phone to my chest for a moment, letting the warmth of his words settle into my chest. At least one person in this glitzy circus remembered who I really was beneath the borrowed glamour.

Next was the bath...deep enough to drown my anxiety in, fragrant with something floral and ridiculously pricey. I sank until the water lapped at my chin, staring at the marble ceiling while trying to calm down. It didn’t work. Every time I thought about the gala, my stomach twisted like I’d swallowed a live wire.

Mom knocked while I was still in the plush hotel robe, water dripping onto my shoulders. She barged in without waiting for permission, garment bags slung over one arm like they were battle flags.

"Darling, let’s look at the options again...I think I’ve changed my mind on the other one," she said, already unzipping the first bag. "The emerald suit is stunning, but the dark blue one has that extra drama for the photos. We need drama tonight."

I stood there, dripping, watching her lay out suit after suit on the bed like they mattered more than what was going on in my chest. She didn’t ask how I’d slept. Didn’t check if I was ready. It was just necklines and lighting, and how important it was for us to "present a united front."

"Mom," I said quietly.

She looked up, caught off guard. "Hmm?"

"I’m... not great with crowds. You know that. And cameras and questions. And—" I gestured helplessly at the shimmering pile of expensive material. "All of this."

Her face softened for a split second, then snapped back to brisk and practical.

"You’ll be fine, Noah. Once you’re in the moment, you’ll rise to it. You always do. Now, try the blue one again, the color really brings out your eyes, you love the color blue...don’t you?"

I swallowed what I wanted to say. She wasn’t really hearing me. Instead, she was focused on a checklist, a schedule, a perfect narrative for the new Valentine-Fell family. And I was just the unwilling centerpiece.

By late afternoon, I was dressed—dark blue after all, because arguing felt pointless. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, giving myself the worst pep talk ever.

"You’re not going to trip," I whispered to my reflection. "You won’t spill champagne on yourself or accidentally curtsy to a waiter. You’re going to walk in there, smile like you mean it, and survive. Probably." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

My reflection didn’t look convinced.

Hours later, the limousine rolled to a stop outside the Grand Aurum Ballroom, and the world outside the tinted windows exploded in light and sounds.

Crystal chandeliers hung like small cars, scattering prisms across marble floors. The red carpet rolled out like spilled wine, flanked by velvet ropes and photographers who moved together like a single hungry organism.

Golden statues, winged figures with laurel crowns...stood guard at the entrance, dressed in garlands of white poinsettias and twinkling fairy lights, giving the whole place an odd Christmas-in-July vibe. It was like Las Vegas glam collided with winter fantasy, and honestly, it was overwhelming.

I stepped out behind Mom, and the flashbulbs hit me like a punch. Voices overlapped, a chaotic chorus:

"Noah! Over here!"

"Valentine-Fell—first public appearance together!"

"Smile for us, kid!"

"What’s it like stepping into this world?"

It was nice, frankly. But terrifying if I had to be dragged into fancy events like these from time to time

My heart raced so hard I thought the photographers might hear it. I tried to lift my chin and find that confident look Mom had shown me in the car, but every muscle felt locked up. The lights were blinding.

The shouting felt oppressive. I just wanted to disappear into the carpet.

This was not the scene for an introvert with healing social anxiety.

I didn’t even want to remember the events of the last party I went to.

Mom’s hand gripped my elbow, firm and guiding. She pulled me aside, away from the main crowd but still in plain view.

"Chin up," she whispered. "Shoulders back. You’re not trying hard enough to look like you belong here."

I turned to her, words spilling out before I could stop them. "Is that all you care about now? How I look? How we look?"

Her eyes widened, genuine hurt flashing across her face. "Noah, please. Not now—"

"No, seriously." My voice cracked, quieter now but still sharp. "Because from where I’m standing, that’s all tonight is. Just appearances, a photo op. You haven’t once asked if I’m okay with all of this. If I’m scared, if any of this feels real to me."

I understood why she was doing all of this, but it hurt for her to not care about the fact that I was never comfortable being in this world she married into.

She straightened up, composure cracking just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her frustration.

"I’m doing this for you. All of it. The money, the opportunities, the safety we never had before. Would you really want to go back? Back to scraping by, wondering if the lights would stay on? Back to that tiny apartment with the leak in the ceiling?"

The guilt landed right where she meant it to, square in my chest. But it didn’t take away the ache. It just made the gap between us feel wider, colder, more permanent.

She studied my face for what felt like ages, then shook her head slightly, as if I’d let her down by not sticking to the script. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the entrance, spine straight, smile already back in place for the next round of cameras.

I stood there alone on the red carpet, surrounded by hundreds of people yet feeling more isolated than I’d ever been. The suit felt heavier now, the tie around my throat like tiny weights. Somewhere behind me, the flashes continued relentlessly, but I just couldn’t make myself move.

Not yet.

I took a shaky breath, then another, whispering to myself the only thing that felt real in that glittering, suffocating moment.

"It’s okay, it’s okay."

Then, I lifted my chin, just a little and took a step into the light.