My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 106: The Vaughn’s are Back

Catherine’s POV

Usually, the circular drive would have just three cars, Julian’s sleek sports car, a Porsche and a single delivery van but currently, it was a graveyard of a fleet of SUVs and luxury sedans parked in a jagged line. I recognized the lead car, which was a custom-armored Mercedes that belonged to only one man.

My chest became heavy that very moment. It felt as if a physical weight had been dropped on me, crushing the life out of me.

I stood there, frozen on the spot, still staring at the cars while my heart began to hit hard against my ribs.

Mom and Richard weren’t supposed to be home. I mean... of all days, it had to be today?! No way! There could only be one reason for that. I shook my head, trying to convince myself that I was overthinking.

I turned to the security guard near the gate, my voice coming out softer than I intended. "Um... are Richard and mom back?"

"Yes, miss. They arrived a few minutes ago."

That did it. Shit! They’re really back.

Air got sucked out of my lungs. I swallowed the saliva in my mouth before muttering a thank you, and walking past him.

Why are they back home today? Did they return because of the scandal? Had the image of Julian and me reached them? The thought of Richard seeing that photo, seeing the "stain" on his carefully curated family name, made my stomach churn with a violent nausea.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to stand still. Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out. One, two, three. I repeated the exercise, trying to settle the buzzing in my ears. I couldn’t walk in there looking like a terrified child. I had to act like that picture was fake and we were framed.

Finally, I summoned the courage to move. I walked up the stone steps, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. I didn’t use my key; the massive front doors were already slightly open, as if someone had rushed through them in a fit of rage and hadn’t bothered to pull them shut.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the silence was broken.

"How could you be so careless and stupid, Julian?"

His voice didn’t come out low, it was loud and thunderous. I followed the voice, Richard was in his grand study, he wasn’t just angry, he was vibrating with fury.

"Do you have any idea what the world thinks of me now? Do you even understand the value of the name you carry? I can’t believe I trusted you would handle things well in my absence."

I moved closer, my back pressed against the wall. I knew I should keep going, head straight for the stairs and into my room, but I was paralyzed. I needed to know how bad it was.

Through the gap in the double doors, I could see them. Richard was standing by the desk, his frame was rigid and his face a mask of iron. Julian was standing in the center of the room, his head bowed, his hands balled into fists at his sides. My mother was there, too, sitting on the edge of a armchair, her posture so stiff she looked like a statue.

In my desperation to hear more and understand the depth of the disaster, I shifted my weight and fuck! My hip caught the edge of the small, ornate pedestal holding the vase.

It tipped. I tried to lunge for it, my fingers brushed it, but I was too slow.

Pieces of it shattered against the floor, flying in every direction. The noise was so loud that knew they were aware of my presence.

At once, the shouting stopped and the silence that followed was a thousand times worse than the yelling.

"Catherine."

Richard’s voice didn’t rise, but the way he said my name made me flinch. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. Beside him, my mother’s head snapped up, but she didn’t move. Julian turned, too, his expression was a mixture of profound relief and fear for me.

I walked into the room, my head down, my sneakers crunching softly on a stray piece of the broken pieces.

"I... I’m sorry," I stammered, my voice sounding small and pathetic. "I didn’t mean to—" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Where the hell have you been?" Richard interrupted. He began to walk toward me, his movements measured and slow. He didn’t stop until he was standing directly in my space, towering over me.

I gulped hard, scared to even look at his face.

"I was... I was at Kiera’s," I replied, hating how I sounded. I was stammering, my voice tripping over the simple lie. "I went to see my friend."

Richard leaned in closer. I could smell the expensive gin on his breath and the sharp scent of his cologne. "A friend’s house," he repeated, his voice laced with a deadly irony. "While your face is being splashed across every gutter-press website? While you and Julian are being portrayed as some kind of incestuous sideshow?"

He turned his gaze back to the room, but his hand made a dismissive gesture toward me. "Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve caused? Do you have any idea what this does to the optics of this family?"

"Father, please stop."

I looked up, shocked. Julian had stepped forward, moving into the space between Richard and me. His voice was steady, though I could see the tension in his jaw.

"I told you, that picture was a fake," he defended, his voice rising. "That is a photoshopped image. Sasha and Collins tried to frame us but we’ve already handled it. The truth is out there now."

Richard turned on Julian so quickly it made me gasp. He didn’t even acknowledge his explanation. He simply leaned into his son’s face, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Shut up, you fool," Richard hissed. "I don’t care about ’the truth.’ I care about the fact that you allowed yourself to be put in a position where a ’fake’ could even be believable. I care about the fact that you were incompetent enough to let those people get close enough to pull a stunt like this."

He took another step toward Julian, his voice growing louder, more abusive. "You are nothing like me. Sometimes I wonder if you are even my son. You are so useless and stupid. All you have is arrogance but you’re not even a man. You’re a liability. You are incompetent, and you are an embarrassment to my name."

How could he say all these words to his own son?!

The words were like physical blows. I watched Julian flinch, his face flushing a deep, angry red. I wanted to scream at Richard, to tell him that Julian had been the one holding everything together, but the words felt like they were stuck in my throat.

Before anyone else could speak, my mother finally moved. She stood up from the armchair and walked over to Richard, her movements hesitant. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

"Richard, please," her voice a soft, frantic plea. "Please, calm down. They’ve had a difficult day. You can clearly see that they are sorry about the trouble, they didn’t mean—"

Richard’s reaction was instantaneous and violent. He let out a guttural snarl and threw her hand off his shoulder with such force that she stumbled back.

"Don’t you dare defend them!" he roared, turning his glare on all of us. He looked like a man possessed, his face contorted with a rage that transcended the scandal.

"I am about to take part in the most important campaign of my life," he shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "My contenders are men of high standards. The donors are watching. If this ’little mess’ brings even a whisper of a problem to my campaign, if I see one more headline linking this family to a scandal, I am going to make sure you are all greatly, greatly punished. I will strip everything from you. Do you understand me?"

He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the study, his heavy footsteps thundering. A moment later, the front door slammed with a force that made the remaining glass in the vase cabinet rattle.

I stood in the center of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs, the silence that followed the storm was heavy and suffocating. My eyes shifted to Julian.

He was fuming. His own eyes were fixed on the doorway where his father had just disappeared, his chest heaving with exertion. He didn’t even look at me. He was locked in his own private hell of humiliation. With a sharp, angry sound that was half-growl, half-sob, he turned and stormed out of the room.

I was left alone with my mother.

The study felt colder now, the shadows stretching long across the floor. I looked at my mom, and my eyes immediately began to fill with tears. The weight of the day, the terror of Richard, and the sight of Julian’s broken pride were too much. I felt like a little girl again, small and helpless in a world governed by angry men.

"Oh, Catty," my mom whispered. She moved toward me, her voice trembling. "Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please, don’t cry."

She spread her arms for a hug, and I practically collapsed into them. I buried my face against her shoulder, breathing in her perfume scent, desperate for a moment of peace. I felt her arms wrap around me, her touch light and hesitant.

As I held her, I pulled back slightly to look at her face, wanting to see the comfort in her eyes. But as I moved, I realized something.

We were inside a room with no harsh sun or glare but my mother was wearing large, oversized black sunglasses.

I stopped, my tears momentarily forgotten, replaced by a cold spike of confusion. "Mom?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside the house?"

She let out a small, breathless laugh, which clearly sounded fake, weird and out of place. She reached up and adjusted the frames, pushing them higher onto the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, you know me, Catherine," she said, her voice sounding forced and thin. "The jet lag... it’s given me such a terrible migraine. My eyes are just incredibly sensitive to the light today. It’s nothing to worry about, honey. Really."

She tried to pull me back into the hug, but I resisted. I stared at the dark lenses, trying to see past the reflection of the room. She wouldn’t look at me directly; she kept her head slightly tilted away.

"Mom," I said, a new kind of dread beginning to take root in my chest. "The light here isn’t that sharp. Take them off. Let me see you."

"Catherine, please," she said, her voice rising in a way that sounded like a plea. "I’m just tired. We’ve had a very long flight. Let’s just go upstairs and rest."

I didn’t move. I stood there, my eyes fixed on the sunglasses.

"This seems very off. Why can’t you take them off?" I asked again.

She didn’t answer.