My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 111: The Puppet Master’s Dinner

Julian’s POV

Now that Richard was back at home, the compulsory dining table moment was back too. Richard sat at the head of the table, not looking like a man who had spent the evening screaming at his family; me to be precise. He looked like a king preparing to move his chess pieces.

Lisa sat to his right, her posture unnaturally stiff. She looked like a doll made of glass with plenty of makeup on her face. Catherine sat across from her, her eyes fixed on her empty plate. She didn’t look at me as I took my seat next to my Gabriel.

Gabriel gave me a quick, sideways glance. He looked tired, his eyes shadowed with the same exhaustion we all felt.

"Now that we are all present," Richard began, with a smooth and resonant voice, "we can discuss the path forward. The scandal with the photos was a clumsy attempt by our enemies to derail the campaign. However, in politics, a crisis is merely an opportunity dressed in rags."

He took a slow sip of his wine, the dark red liquid staining his lips like blood.

"For the time being," Richard continued, "any public appearances involving Julian and Catherine must be handled with careful precision. You are to be seen as the ultimate united front. I want the public to see a brother and sister bonded by the trauma of being framed. You will act sibling-ish. Protective. Innocent. Since those rascals tried to ruin your reputations, we will milk the society for every drop of sympathy and love they have to offer."

I felt a wave of nausea roll through my stomach. Sibling-ish. The word felt like a slap. He wanted us to play a role that could never be real, not with all we do when no one is looking. I looked at Catherine. She was perfectly still, but I could see the way her body was shaking from either guilt, fear or even anger.

"Father," I called, my voice sounding more hollow than I intended. "Is there really a need for that? The video of Sasha and Collins has already turned the tide. People know they lied. So do we still need to put on a show?"

Richard didn’t even turn his head. He just let out a soft, condescending hum. "Julian. Your lack of foresight continues to be your greatest liability. People don’t just want the truth; they want a story. They want to see the ’poor, victimized’ children of Mr. Vaughn proving their opposition wrong."

He finally turned his gaze toward me, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "But I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand the nuances of public perception. You’ve always been more comfortable in the mud than on the stage."

He looked past me, his eyes landing on Catherine. A chilling smile touched his lips— the type a hunter gives a particularly clever prey.

"Catherine, dear," he said, his voice dropping into a tone of false warmth. "I’m leaving it to you to pull this act off perfectly. I trust that you have a certain... edge. You’re a hundred percent wiser than Julian. You can play the long game well if you choose to listen to me." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Of course, he couldn’t get me, so now he was trying to use Catherine for his dirty tricks.

"So tell me, can you handle being the ’devoted sister’ for the sake of our survival?"

I felt the air leave the room. He was doing the same thing he tried to do to Gabe and I—pitting us against each other, elevating her to humiliate me. I saw Catherine swallow hard, her throat working as she processed the insult he’d just hurled at me.

"I... I can do it, Richard," she whispered, not raising her head from her plate she barely ate from.

"I need more than a whisper, Catherine," Richard’s voice sharpened. "I need to know you won’t hesitate when the cameras are on you tomorrow night. Can you do it?"

"She said she’ll do it, Father," Gabriel interjected, his voice surprisingly firm. We both looked at him. He was leaning back in his chair, his expression weary but resolute. "Everyone is already on our side. The polls are up. There’s no need for further plotting tonight. Let’s just eat."

Richard didn’t even acknowledge Gabriel’s words. He ignored him as if he were a fly buzzing in the room. His focus remained locked on me and Catherine.

He picked up his steak, not using it to cut his meat. He held it upright, the tip pointing toward the ceiling, as he leaned forward.

"Family loyalty is not a suggestion," Richard said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl. "It is the only currency that matters in this house. You both owe it to this family—to the name Vaughn—to play your roles. If you fail, I will personally ensure that the fallout is... permanent."

He looked me dead in the eye as he said the word permanent. I felt the phantom heat of the iron on my back. Rage bubbled in my chest, a hot, liquid fire that threatened to burn through me. My hands clenched into fists in my lap, my knuckles turning white. I wanted to scream, lung across the table and take that knife from his hand.

Suddenly, I felt a soft, warm pressure against my foot.

I froze. Under the table, Catherine had shifted her position. Her foot was brushing against mine, not in a playful tap, but a steady, grounding pressure. It was a silent message, she was reminding me of her presence while asking me to stay calm. Don’t let him win.

The heat of her touch cut through the coldness in my veins. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing my muscles to relax. I looked at Richard, and nodded.

"We understand, Father. We’ll play the part."

Richard smiled, a slow, satisfied expression that didn’t reach his eyes. He lowered the knife and began to cut into his steak with precise, surgical strokes.

"Good," he murmured. "Now, Lisa, tell me about the floral arrangements for the Gala. I want something that screams ’purity.’"

I kept my foot pressed against Catherine’s, the only honest thing in a room full of lies. We were siblings to the world, victims to the press, puppets to the man at the head of the table but lovers beneath the sheet.