My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 107: Bruised

Catherine’s POV

She stood perfectly still, her hands clasped so tightly in front of her that her knuckles were white. The oversized black sunglasses remained fixed on her face. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic, uneven rhythm fueled by a dread I couldn’t quite name.

"Mom, please," I whispered again with a trembling voice mixed with fear and growing desperation. "Just take them off. It’s dark in here, so you don’t need them."

She hesitated, her lower lip shaking for a fleeting second before she steeled herself. With a slow, unsteady hand, she reached up and hooked her fingers around the frames. I held my breath, the world around me narrowing down to that single movement. As she pulled the glasses away, the breath left my body in a sharp, agonizing hiss.

The bruise on her left eye was massive. A blooming galaxy of deep purple, angry red, and sickly yellow that occupied the entire left side of her eye socket and stretched down toward her cheekbone. The skin was swollen and tight, the damage looking fresh and brutal against her pale complexion. I felt a wave of nausea roll through me, my hands flying to my mouth to stifle a cry of pure, unadulterated shock. It was worse than anything I had imagined. It looked like she had been struck by a falling planet.

"Oh, my God," I breathed, my eyes welling with tears as I stepped closer, reaching out a trembling hand but afraid to touch the damaged skin. "Mom, what happened? Who did this to you?"

She didn’t look at me. She kept her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over my shoulder, her expression was neutral, though her hands continued to shake. "It’s nothing," she said, her voice sounding small, as if she was trying to not let anyone hear her. "I was being clumsy. I had a bit too much champagne on the flight, and when we arrived at the hotel before coming here, I fell from the staircase. My heels caught on the carpet, and I went down quite hard."

My mind was racing as I stared at her. A fall from a staircase? The bruise was so concentrated, so localized. I looked at the way it sat on the bone, the intensity of the color. A skeptical frown pulled at my features.

"The stairs?" I repeated, disbelief in my voice. "Mom, why would you hide that from me? Why the glasses? If you were hurt, you should have said something immediately."

She finally met my eyes, and the exhaustion I saw there was heartbreaking. "I didn’t want you to overreact, sweetheart," she said, flashing me a faint, weary smile. "I just wanted to get home and put a cold compress on it. It’s just a silly, clumsy accident."

I wanted to push her. I wanted to ask if Richard knew about this, if he was near her when she fell, if he had reached out to catch her, or if he had stood by and watched but the fragility in her posture stopped me. She looked like she was held together by nothing but sheer will and silk. If I pushed too hard, she might get really upset. I swallowed my questions, forced myself to nod, and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Alright, Mom but you need to be more careful. You really scared me."

"I know, honey. I’m sorry," she murmured. She reached out and patted my arm. "I think I just need to lie down for a while. The jet lag is finally catching up with me, and the pain is making my head throb. I’m going to go to my room and rest."

I nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. "Okay. Go rest. I’ll come check on you later."

I stood in the center of the study, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared up the staircase. The house felt unnervingly quiet now that the shouting had stopped, but the silence wasn’t peaceful. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.

Once I was certain my mother was safely tucked away in her room, I moved up the stairs, my attention toward Julian’s room. The way he had looked when he stormed out of the study worried me. He had been humiliated in front of me, stripped of his dignity by Richard who saw him as nothing more than an incompetent tool.

I reached his door and paused, hearing the faint clink of glass from inside. I didn’t knock; I simply turned the handle and stepped into the room.

Julian was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, a cigarette between his fingers and a half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting on the nightstand. The smell of smoke and alcohol was overwhelming.

"Julian?" I called his name softly, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t move or acknowledge that I had entered. He just stared at the floor, the glow of the cigarette showing the sharp, angry lines of his face. I could feel the rage coming off him in waves, a dark, suffocating heat that made the hair on my arms stand up. He looked like a man on the edge of a breakdown, a volcano of suppressed fury.

I swallowed hard, my fear warring with my need to comfort him. I summoned my courage and moved closer, crossing the plush carpet until I was standing right beside him. I sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Julian, please talk to me," I whispered and reached out for him, my fingers trembling as I placed my hand over his, which was gripped tightly around his glass.

The reaction was instant. Julian jerked his arm away, shoving my hand off with a violent, jarring motion that sent a splash of bourbon onto the rug.

"Don’t," he spat, his voice was a low, dangerous growl. He didn’t look at me, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the glass even tighter.

His movement kinda hurt me but I didn’t back away. I couldn’t leave him like this, drowning in self-loathing and his father’s insults. I shifted closer, my shoulder almost touching his, and whispered his name again.

"Julian, look at me. Don’t shut me out. I know Richard was cruel. I know what he said was wrong, but you can’t let him win by doing this to yourself. Please, just talk to me."

I reached out again, placing my hand gently on his shoulder, hoping to ground him, to bring him back from whatever dark place he had retreated to.

Julian exploded. He jumped to his feet, the movement so sudden I gasped and recoiled. He began to pace the room like a caged animal. He took a long drag of his cigarette and then threw it into an ashtray with a hiss of frustration. He stopped abruptly, turning around to face me, his eyes darkening.

"Leave, Catherine," he commanded, his voice trembling with the effort to remain controlled. "Just get out of here. I don’t want you here. I want to be alone. Just go." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

I stood up, my own resolve hardening as I met his gaze. I saw the pain behind the anger, the deep-seated hurt that Richard had inflicted.

"No!" I screamed out of annoyance, rising to my feet. "Don’t ask me to leave, because I won’t! I can’t leave you like this. I’m not letting you sit here in the dark and destroy yourself."