Secret Relationship with my Brother’s Right-Hand Man

Adeline’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer—slow, deliberate, like she already knew how this would end.

Then she tilted her head, the corridor lights catching in her hair.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said softly, almost kind. “Don’t you think… we look alike, little sister?”

Little sister.

Not a rival. Not even a threat.

Just a replacement that stayed too long.

Heat rushed to my face—sharp, humiliating. The hallway suddenly felt too tight, the air too thin.

She was still smiling.

I couldn’t stand it.

So I turned and walked away before I said something I couldn’t take back.

**

Back inside, the noise of my colleagues filled the room—laughter, glasses clinking, the low hum of people who didn’t know anything had shifted.

It didn’t fix anything.

But it dulled the edge.

For a while, I sat with them, pretending I was still untouched by all of it.

Then the door opened.

The sound cut clean through the room.

Dominic stood there.

For a second, he didn’t move. His eyes scanned the space—faces, exits, instincts first—before landing on me.

Something in his expression changed.

Not relief.

Not concern.

Anger.

Tight. Controlled. Already decided.

“Celeste.”

My name didn’t sound like mine.

Before I could answer, he stepped back into the hallway.

“Outside.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then I followed.

The moment I crossed the door—

His hand struck my face.

Hard.

The impact snapped my head to the side, the sound echoing against the narrow corridor.

Silence followed.

It was the first time Dominic Hale had ever hit me.

I looked at him, stunned, my cheek burning where his hand had been.

He didn’t look away.

No regret. No hesitation.

Just anger.

“Why did you push Adeline?” His voice was low, controlled, but edged. “She twisted her ankle. I told you I’d handle it when I got back, and you still chose to act like that?”

My breath caught.

Push?

“What are you talking about?” I said, barely above a whisper.

Footsteps approached.

Adeline.

She came into view slowly, careful, unsteady—like every step mattered. Her sleeve was slightly stained, her posture fragile.

And then—

she stumbled.

A perfect fall.

Dominic moved instantly.

He brushed past me like I wasn’t even there and caught her before she hit the ground.

Like it was instinct.

Like it had always been her.

“I told you I’d bring her to you,” he said, his voice already softer as he held her. “Why did you come out here alone?”

Adeline shook her head gently against him. “It’s nothing serious. She probably didn’t mean it.”

Her eyes flicked to mine.

Brief.

Precise.

Then away.

“I’m fine,” she added. “Don’t be too hard on her.”

A pause.

Then, quieter—carefully placed: “If Garrick hears about this… it might complicate things.”

At my brother’s name, something in Dominic’s expression shifted.

Just for a second.

Then it hardened again.

“She’s Garrick’s sister,” he said flatly. “He trusted me with her. If she’s out of line, it’s my responsibility to correct it.”

Correct me.

I let out a small laugh before I could stop myself.

It sounded wrong. Hollow.

“Correct me?” I repeated. “What exactly did I do wrong, Dominic?”

He turned to me fully now, eyes sharp.

“You knew there were no cameras in that hallway,” he said coldly. “So you thought you could get away with it.”

For a moment, I almost didn’t recognize him.

Not because it hurt—

but because of how easy it was for him to believe it.

“If there were no cameras,” I asked slowly, “how are you so sure it was me?”

Adeline shifted slightly in his arms, her voice soft.

“Why would I lie?” she said. “You think I’d accuse you for no reason?”

Dominic didn’t even look at her.

He was still staring at me.

“I’ve known Adeline since we were kids,” he said. “She doesn’t lie.”

A beat.

Then—

“And you do?”

Something in me went completely still.

Seven years.

Seven years—and this was what I was worth next to her.

My voice came out quieter than I expected.

“So that’s it?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

The silence said enough.

I turned away.

“Celeste.” His voice sharpened. “Stop.”

I didn’t.

My cheek still burned. My chest felt… empty. Like something had been pulled out without me noticing when it left.

At the front, I didn’t go back inside.

Didn’t explain.

I paid the bill in cash, left a message with the staff for my colleagues, and scribbled a quick note on a receipt:

Something came up. Continue without me. It’s on me.

Then I walked out into the night alone.