He Hides His Identity for My Stepsister

Lying in bed that morning, I could hear Ivy in the room next to mine. Her voice floated through the air like glitter—sweet, sparkly, shallow.

“Oh my God, look at this!” she squealed. “It’s a pearl necklace! Real, natural saltwater pearls. I read somewhere these only grow in the deepest parts of the sea.”

Her friends gasped.

“Who sent it?” one of them asked.

Ivy giggled. “There’s a card. It says, Can’t wait to meet you.”

“Do you think it’s from the Smith family?” another asked breathlessly.

“Maybe,” Ivy said. “He’s been sending me things lately. And you saw the birthday gifts, right? Who else could afford something like this?”

“But what about Jaxon?” one of them whispered. “Didn’t he like you? And didn’t you like him?”

There was a pause. Then Ivy answered, not shy at all.

“Well... I do like him. He’s handsome, loyal, protective. But if the Smith heir wants me? I mean, come on, who would say no to that?”

Her voice turned smug. “Best case? I marry Smith and keep Jaxon on the side. That way I get both—a husband and a lover.”

Laughter followed.

I didn’t move from the bed. I just stared at the ceiling, letting the sound of Ivy’s fantasies sink in.

I didn’t feel anger. Not even sadness.

Just... emptiness. A numb kind of clarity.

She could have it all. Because none of it meant anything to me anymore.

I got up and walked down the hall toward Jaxon’s room. The door was half-closed. I knocked once, then pushed it open.

He was in bed, shirtless, looking pale.

“Sick?” I asked, one brow raised.

He nodded. “I wasn’t feeling well today. Couldn’t get out of bed.”

Liar. I knew the truth.

When he heard about Ivy wanting a pearl necklace, he disappeared to dive under the sea. Now the necklace was here, and he was sick.

I stared at him for a long moment. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said calmly. “You don’t need to help me anymore.”

He blinked, confused.

I smiled faintly. “I won’t be needing you.”

Then I turned and left, my footsteps steady.

That afternoon, I received a message from my father’s assistant.

Your presence is requested at the main estate. The limousine will arrive in an hour. The funds have been deposited, and the estate is ready for you. We’ll see you soon.

So that was it. I’m finally leaving this house.

I closed my closet, zipped my suitcase, and wheeled it to the door. Before I left, I passed by Ivy’s room. The door was open, the smell of her perfume thick in the air.

Laughter again.

Jaxon was inside. Their voices blurred together in flirtation, soft laughter, quiet murmurs.

It didn’t matter anymore. I walked out without looking back.

Third Person Pov

The next morning, Jaxon stood in the hallway, confusion written all over his face. Freya’s room was empty. The closet had been cleared out. The drawers were bare.

"Where is she?" he asked one of the maids.

"She left yesterday, sir," the maid replied, bowing her head respectfully.

His brows pulled together in a deep frown. "Left?"

Pulling out his phone, his hands trembling slightly, he dialed her number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Voicemail.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Then his phone buzzed.

A single message. Having a fun game playing a butler's son, Master Smith?

Jaxon froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His heart raced, and his hands shook, the phone nearly slipping from his grasp.

Panic kicked in. His fingers trembled as he tried to call her again—denied.

And when he tapped the screen one more time, the message appeared in grey: Blocked.