My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 242: Three Against The Truth

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I let out a long, shaky sigh, feeling a bit of the tension ease in my chest amidst the chaos. Because even as Ethan reeled and Adrien fumed, a strange sense of gratitude washed over me, we were finally closer to getting justice for Joanne, closer to untangling the lies that had haunted Adrien for so long.

I stepped closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder, feeling the tight muscles beneath his shirt, and squeezed gently, hoping my touch said what words might fail to express.

"We’re making progress," I said softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. "All those responsible, they’re not going to get away with this. We’ll find them, Adrien. Every last one."

He looked up at me then, the anger in his eyes softening into something more resolved, like my words had grounded him.

"You’re right," he murmured, covering my hand with his own briefly, the warmth sending a familiar spark through me, no matter the circumstances. "I needed that. Can’t lose it now, we’ve got to focus on the rest of this puzzle. Figure out who this anonymous creep is and what else Logan’s hiding."

He sat up straighter, distress shifting into determination as he turned back to the computer, fingers already clicking through more folders, searching for emails or files that might give us another vital piece of the evidence we needed.

Seeing him steady himself like that, channeling his anger into action, brought a wave of relief; at least he was managing, or as much as anyone could in this mess.

"I’ll be back in a sec," I said quietly, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before heading for the door. "Just going to check on Ethan. Don’t uncover any more earth-shattering secrets without me."

Adrien managed a faint, wry smile as he glanced back. "No promises. But hurry back, three heads are better than one, even if one of them belongs to Golden boy."

I rolled my eyes with a smile.

I stepped out into the hallway, the computer’s dim glow fading behind me as I went to find Ethan, the weight of what we’d uncovered pressing down like an invisible hand.

We knew full well we’d crossed a line, whatever Logan was hiding was bigger and darker than we’d anticipated, and now, with the three of us involved, he wouldn’t be able to ignore us much longer.

But as I made my way down the corridor, heart still pounding, I couldn’t shake the absurd thought that popped into my head, if we made it out of this without getting caught or worse, we’d have one wild story to tell, assuming anyone would believe that a trio of lovesick fools brought down a blackmail operation from a home office.

Finding Ethan in the maze that is this house took way longer than I thought it would. Honestly, the place was so enormous it felt more like a museum after hours than a home, endless hallways packed with abstract art that nobody ever noticed, doors leading to rooms that were hardly ever used, and a silence that pressed against my eardrums.

I hit up the kitchen first, then the living room, and then I backtracked through a corridor I was pretty sure I’d passed through at least twice. My sneakers squeaked against the polished floors, the noise embarrassingly loud in the stillness, and every time I turned a corner, I half-expected to bump into Logan himself, even though I knew he wouldn’t be back for hours from Hayseville.

Eventually, I noticed the balcony doors were slightly open at the far end of the upstairs hallway. A cool breeze slipped in through the gap, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass and rain in the distance.

I slowly pushed the door open and stepped out onto the wide stone terrace that overlooked the sprawling lawns and the dark line of trees beyond. Ethan was already out there, leaning against the wrought-iron banister, his forearms resting on the railing, staring out at the view as if it might reveal some answers if he just concentrated hard enough.

The security lights from the driveway cast long shadows across his back, making his shoulders look sharp and his hair glow softly at the edges.

I didn’t say anything right away. Instead, I quietly crossed the balcony and leaned on the opposite side of the banister, keeping a respectful distance of four or five feet between us, close enough to be present but far enough to let him breathe.

The night was refreshing, the kind of crisp air that feels good in your lungs, and below us, the estate grounds stretched out in perfect, manicured silence. I took in the same view as he did, the dark shapes of hedges, the pale ribbon of the driveway, and the faint glow of the city far in the distance and just waited.

The silence hung between us, comfortable and heavy. Our breathing was the only sound, slow and uneven, blending with the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Ethan broke the silence first, his voice raw and shaky.

"I always told myself he was just... a mean person with a terrible temper and controlling. The worst he could do was make me feel small, make me disappear inside my own head until he got bored and moved on."

He laughed, but it was short and bitter, cracking in the middle. "But this? This is murder, Noah. Or at least a cover-up for it, all for money we already have. Fifteen million dollars to keep his mouth shut about my uncle being involved in someone’s death. My own uncle."

His hands trembled on the railing, and he kept his eyes on the darkness below, like looking at me would make it all too real.

I stayed quiet, letting him work through it all.

"I spent years making excuses," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "He’s just stressed. Under pressure. He doesn’t mean it. I learned how to shrink, how to be invisible, how to time my exits so I didn’t have to see that look on his face, the one that said I was a disappointment just by existing. I told myself it was normal. That every family had a version of him, I never let myself imagine..."

He swallowed hard. "I never let myself imagine he could do something this monstrous. That he’d trade a woman’s life for a paycheck. That he’d sit across from me at breakfast every morning, knowing what he’d done, and still ask me to pass the orange juice like nothing happened. I feel like an idiot for not seeing how far he’d go. How far he already had."

His voice cracked on the last sentence, and he pressed his lips together, breathing hard through his nose, still avoiding my gaze.

My heart melted, he felt guilty for not believing us...and for not really seeing how evil his uncle was.

When his words finally trailed off and he was just standing there, chest heaving too quickly, I stepped around the banister to close the gap. I didn’t hug him. I just rested my hand lightly on his forearm, my thumb brushing the inside of his wrist. It was a grounding touch, nothing more.