He Hides His Identity for My Stepsister

When I woke up, my body felt heavy.

My head throbbed slightly, and my stomach churned with emptiness. I hadn't eaten since yesterday, and I could still feel the weight of that last conversation lingering in my chest like a bruise.

I dragged myself up from the bed slowly, the morning light pouring in through the curtains in soft slants. My throat felt dry, but worse than that—my heart ached.

Not because I was hungry.

But because of what I heard through the hallway.

“I’m really okay now,” Ivy’s voice floated gently from the other room, followed by a soft laugh. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Jaxon replied, his voice low and calm. “You were burning up. I couldn’t leave.”

“You’re always here for me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My fingers clenched the edge of the mattress.

So he stayed in her room all night.

Even after I stood there—hungry, humiliated—he chose her. Again.

I reminded myself of the original deal. Jaxon had been hired to protect me. Not Ivy. Me.

That was the agreement.

At first, he did exactly that. He was everywhere I went—quiet, dependable, strong. For a while, I had let myself believe that maybe he cared.

But now? Now the illusion was gone.

I fixed my face in the mirror—no tears, no cracks. Only stillness. Then I changed and stepped out of my room.

Jaxon was standing by the hallway, waiting. As soon as he saw me, he asked, “Did you eat the food I left in your room?”

I didn’t even blink. “No. I threw it away.”

He frowned. “Why are you being dramatic?”

I arched a brow.

“Is this about last night?” he added. “Because if it is—look, I was off duty. I have the right to do what I want. And your sister was sick. You were just hungry. You couldn’t even cook something yourself?”

His words stung more than I wanted to admit.

But I didn’t argue.

I didn’t defend myself.

I just stared at him for a long, painful second—long enough for the silence between us to become unbearable.

Then I turned and started walking away.

“Where are you going?” he called after me.

I paused but didn’t look back. “Why are you asking? When you don’t care at all.”

And I walked out the front door.

The wind was crisp. The air a little cool against my skin. I started jogging—not to exercise, not to stay fit, but to escape. To run away from thoughts that clung to me like thorns.

Just as I found a rhythm, I heard a voice behind me.

“Freya!”

Ivy.

I didn’t stop.

“Can we jog together?” she asked, jogging up beside me with that effortless cheer in her tone.

I didn’t reply.

She fell into step beside me anyway.

Then, not even a minute later, she slowed and turned to Jaxon, who had caught up behind her. “Why does she hate me?” she pouted. “I just want to be close with her. She’s my sister…”

I heard Jaxon’s voice behind me. “Don’t worry about it. If she doesn’t like you, I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”

That was enough.

I sped up, leaving them behind—pretending like I hadn’t heard a thing.

But they followed.

We looped through the back roads until we ended up near the unfinished construction on the estate—an expansion my father had ordered months ago.

The area was quiet, surrounded by skeletons of beams and scattered materials. I slowed to a walk, letting my thoughts spiral.

I didn’t notice the loose debris on the ground until it was too late. I felt the sharp shift of weight beneath my foot—the metal plank tilting.

“Freya!” someone shouted.

But it was already falling. My foot caught against something—metal, unstable. The world tilted.

The sharp screech of steel against stone pierced the air as the plank gave way beneath me. My balance faltered. For a split second, time seemed to stretch, pulling everything into a slow, surreal blur.

I felt the shift in my body—the helpless sway as gravity took hold. Pain shot through me as the edge of the debris slammed against my side, dragging me down with it. The sky spun. The air rushed out of my lungs.

And just before the darkness swallowed everything, my eyes caught movement.

Jaxon.

He was running.

But not toward me.

Not to catch me.

Not to shield me.

He was running to her.

To Ivy.

His arms wrapped around her as they fell behind a beam, his body shielding hers from the spray of rubble that followed. His face—etched with panic—was turned only to her.

Even as I fell.

Even as the world shattered beneath me.

I was the one bleeding, broken, forgotten.

And he had already chosen who mattered.

Pain exploded through me—hot and sharp—before the world blinked out.

And then… there was only silence.

Only darkness.