My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 231: Logan

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The ballroom’s golden glow and sweeping orchestral music faded to background noise as I slipped away from Adrien and those two girls who were clinging to him like barnacles in their fancy gowns.

My heart raced—not just from what I was about to face, but from the nerve of what I was doing. I kept my eyes on Logan as he navigated the crowd, his silver hair sticking out above all those tuxedos and updos, a champagne flute in hand.

He looked the part of a polished businessman, but the way he had snapped at Ethan earlier, the tension in his shoulders, and those quick glances around before heading to the terrace... something felt off.

I moved along the edge of the dance floor, hiding behind clusters of laughing investors and couples swaying together. The jewels on my suit caught the light with each step, making me feel like a living disco ball...subtlety wasn’t really happening tonight.

Logan paused by the dessert table, chatted with a waiter for a moment, then pulled out his phone. His frown deepened as he looked at the screen, and then he smoothly excused himself from the group, saying, "Business never sleeps," before heading down a quieter corridor toward the private terraces and service areas.

My heart raced. This was it. I followed him, dodging past a woman in a stunning ruby-red velvet dress who shot me a curious glance; she smiled politely, but my stomach churned. The corridor grew narrower, the music faded to a low hum, and the lighting softened...perfect for eavesdropping but not great for stealth in a rustling suit that sounded like it had its own soundtrack.

Logan halted at a small alcove with a potted palm and a bench, pressing his phone to his ear. I ducked behind a twinkling column, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he’d hear it. I hit record on my phone, holding it low and steady, hoping the mic could pick up his voice over the distant gala noise.

"Look, I’m busy right now," Logan snapped, his voice tense. "I can’t do this here. Tell your boss I’ll get the money soon. I’m working on it...give me a week, tops. I’ll have it all."

There was a pause. His free hand turned into a fist at his side.

"Come on, we go way back....You know I’m good for it. Just... cut me some slack. I’ve got connections—I can make it worth your while."

Another longer pause. Logan’s shoulders dropped, charm draining from him like air from a deflated tire.

"A week," he repeated, his voice wavering a bit. "I’ll get you the money...All of it. Tell him—please."

He hung up abruptly, staring at his phone like it had betrayed him. Then he glanced around nervously before shoving the phone back in his pocket and stalking off, his confident swagger now gone.

I waited until his footsteps faded, exhaling shakily as I stopped the recording with trembling fingers. My pulse was still racing as I replayed the clip to make sure I’d captured everything.

His voice was clear enough, desperate, angry, pleading. Logan Seymour, a man who once controlled a multi-million-dollar empire, was deep in debt to someone with a "boss." And he was scared.

I had to find Adrien.

I slipped back into the ballroom, weaving through the crowd, scanning for his familiar dark hair. The music had changed to a slower waltz, couples swaying under the chandeliers as if they had no cares at all. I spotted him at the bar, still stuck in conversation with Victoria and Celeste, his polite smile looking more like a grimace now. When he saw me approaching, his expression sharpened, relief flashing in his eyes before he masked it.

"Excuse me," he said to the girls, his tone smooth but final as he stepped away. "Family matter."

Victoria’s smile faltered. "But—"

Adrien didn’t wait for her to finish. He grasped my elbow gently, guiding me toward a quieter corner near the balcony doors, away from prying eyes.

"Where the hell were you?" he hissed, voice low yet urgent, his hand sliding from my elbow to my wrist, thumb pressing against my racing pulse. "I turned around, and you were gone. I’ve been looking everywhere. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to wander off alone here?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the genuine worry in his eyes—l real, raw concern, silenced me. He wasn’t just annoyed; he was scared.

"I’m fine," I said quickly, though my voice quavered a bit. "I followed Logan. He got a call and stepped out to the terrace. I... recorded it."

Adrien’s grip tightened for a moment, then relaxed as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "Noah. Logan could be dangerous. What if he caught you? What if Keith had seen you following him? You can’t just—"

"I got more information, didn’t I?" I interrupted, pulling my phone from my clutch and hitting play before he could continue his lecture. Logan’s voice crackled through the tiny speaker, angry, scared, pleading for time, promising money he clearly didn’t have.

Adrien listened, his jaw clenching more with every word. When the recording ended, he looked at me, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and grudging admiration.

"You’re reckless," he said quietly, but without real heat. "And brilliant. And I’m definitely going to kill you later for scaring me like that."

I managed a shaky smile. "Worth it?"

He exhaled again, running a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect style. "Yeah. Worth it. But next time, just tell me before you go all rogue detective. Deal?"

"Deal," I promised, even though we both knew I’d probably do it again anyway.

He glanced around, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear, then leaned in, voice dropping. "Looks like he’s in debt. Bad debt. To someone scary enough to make a guy like Logan sweat. And Keith’s still cozying up to him? This isn’t just messy...it’s dangerous."

I nodded, adrenaline still buzzing beneath my skin. "We need to confront him. Tonight, while he’s rattled."

Adrien’s gaze flicked toward the bar where Logan had retreated, now nursing a scotch and looking like he’d aged ten years in the last fifteen minutes.

"Yeah," Adrien agreed, voice grim. "Let’s go."

We moved through the crowd together now, Adrien’s hand on the small of my back again, steady and protective. Logan sat alone at the bar, tie loosened, glass half-empty, barking at the bartender for another pour. The polished charm from before was gone; he looked like a man on the brink.

Adrien slowed as we approached, his demeanor shifting from casual to focused. "Why on earth would Dad and your Mom associate with someone like this?" he muttered. "He’s a fucking dipshit."

I shrugged, my stomach tightening. " Money and influence, no doubt."