Melbourne, Australia, 10:00am.

EZRAN'S POV.

I had exactly three problems that morning.

One, my mother was getting married again, two, the black suit I was forced to wear made me look like a guest at a funeral, and three, this wedding was happening whether I liked it or not.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at my reflection like it belonged to someone else. Twenty-one years old final-year college student and future programmer, if life didn’t take another turn before graduation. My jaw was clenched and my dark curls refusing to stay neat no matter how much I tried to brush them.

“Ezran,” my mother called from outside the room, her voice careful. “We’re running late.”

Of course we were.

I exhaled slowly and grabbed my phone, staring at the news outlets.

POPULAR MODEL AND EX BEAUTY CONTEST QUEEN, AUBREY CAMERON, 42, REMARRIES BILLIONAIRE MOGUL AND TECH EXPERT, ROBERT BANKS, 58, IN A GRAND STYLE, 5 YEARS AFTER HAVING A SCANDALOUS DIVORCE WITH PRODUCER EX HUSBAND, EDWARDS WILLIAMSON.

My eyes moved down to the comments and I sighed. Everyone who remembered mom's messy divorce from my dad gave their unsolicited advice.

Shoving the phone into my pants pocket, I sighed again before stepping out. My mother, soon-to-be Aubrey Banks, stood in the hallway, glowing in white lace and expensive diamond jewelry. Forty-two years old and still painfully beautiful, she looked happier than I’d seen her in years.

That was the problem.

She deserved happiness. I knew that. After the messy divorce with dad, after five years of being alone and after rebuilding herself piece by piece.

But did that happiness really have to come as a fifty-eight year old billionaire who already had grown-up kids?

What if they don't accept her or they accuse her of being a golddigger?

“You okay?” she asked softly, searching my face when she noticed I was spacing out.

I nodded because arguing would change nothing. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie we both pretended to believe.

The wedding venue was massive—glass walls, white roses, gold accents everywhere. Wealth screamed from every corner. This wasn’t just a celebration, it was a show off of wealth.

I spotted the groom almost immediately.

Robert Banks, my soon-to-be stepfather.

Tall. Brown-haired with streaks of gray. Calm in the way men get when they’ve lived long enough in affluence and extravagance. He smiled when he saw my mother, took her hand like she was something precious and kissed her knuckles.

I quickly looked away.

Applause followed them down the aisle. I stayed seated, clapping out of obligation, not emotion. Somewhere between the vows and the music swelling, I felt something settle in my chest: finality.

This was real and permanent. I now belonged to a family that wasn’t mine.

At the reception, introductions happened too quickly.

“These are my daughters,” Robert said, gesturing toward two women standing beside him. “Charlyn and Jeanne.”

Charlyn Banks was dressed in a black suede dress with diamond studs, her Louboutin heels clicked as she took a step forward.

She looked elegant, too sophisticated and composed, already studying me like a puzzle she’d decide whether to solve later.

Jeanne Banks looked younger in a purple two piece and silver platform heels.

She flashed me a nervous smile, uncertainty flickering behind her eyes.

“Hi,” she said, offering her hand. “Guess we’re family now?”

I snorted before I could stop myself. “Unfortunately.”

Her smile widened. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

Something eased inside of me. Well, just a little.

We talked about small things. College music and how awkward this all was. For the first time that day, I felt like I wasn’t suffocating.

Halfway through the reception, the walls started closing in again. Too many whispers and too many eyes pressing against my skin.

I slipped away toward the restroom, ignoring the distant clink of glasses and forced laughter.

The hallway was quiet, cool and lonely.

“Jesus!” I exclaimed. “What a relief!”

I fished out my phone from my pocket as I turned the corner, my head collided with a hard rock surface.

“Ouch!” I winced as my phone slipped from my fingers.

“Watch where you’re going.” The voice was deep, flat and obviously annoyed.

I looked up and froze.

He was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a black tuxedo like he’d stepped out of a business meeting rather than a wedding. Sleek, dark hair brushed neatly back, sharp features carved in restraint, eyes so cold that they made my spine straighten instinctively.

“Maybe don’t stand in the middle of the hallway,” I snapped, stepping back to retrieve my already cracked phone.

His gaze lingered on me longer than necessary. Assessing. Dissecting.

“You’re rude,” he said calmly.

I laughed once. “You bumped into me.”

“You walked into me, kid.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. The air felt tight and charged in a way I didn’t like or didn’t understand.

“You’ll need some manners as you grow older, kid.” he said suddenly.

I frowned. “Excuse you?”

“Get lost,” he replied, then brushed past me without another word.

I stood there, pulse loud in my ears, watching his retreating back.

Who the hell was that?

I returned to the reception unsettled, irritation clinging to my face. Jeanne noticed immediately.

“You look like you just lost a fight,” she whispered.

“I ran into an unfortunate jerk,” I muttered.

Before she could respond, Robert’s voice carried across the room.

“There’s someone important I haven’t introduced yet.”

I turned.

The man from the hallway sat on a golden seat, expression unreadable, clasped hands placed on a table, like he owned the room.

“This is my son,” Robert said proudly. “Lucian Banks.”

The name hit harder than it should have.

Son.

My chest tightened as realization slammed into place. Lucian’s eyes met mine, recognition flickered and something darker followed.

Stepbrother.

The word echoed in my head, heavy and wrong.

He didn’t smile or react. Just nodded politely as guests murmured their approval.

And in that moment, standing under the crystal chandeliers, I knew one thing with terrifying certainty:

This marriage hadn’t just rearranged my family, it had dragged something dangerous into my life.

The wedding dragged to an end and I heaved out in relief. Dragging my already tired limbs out of the hall, I dialed my best friend’s digits via video call.

“Yo, Ez.” Erik’s caramel skin glowed as his face appeared on the screen. “Happy married life to you.”

The heck?

“My mom got married, not me.” I said as-a-matter-of-factly, rolling my eyes.

“Well, you're literally made from your mom, so that means this marriage is a part of you.”

I paused for a slight second and burst into laughter, clutching my belly tight.

“Man, your reasoning scares me sometimes.”

He chuckled and went silent for a split second.

“So…. what do you want to do?” He asked, munching from a bag of chips on his bed.

“I don't know, Erik. I just got to know I've got an overly sophisticated stepsister, an overly friendly one and an ‘I don't know’ stepbrother.”

Erik grinned at me mischievously, “The recluse Lucian Banks? Lucky you! You’ll get to see him daily.”

Well, Erik was an information gatherer. There was virtually no one he didn't know in the whole of Melbourne.

“Ezran?” Mom's voice echoed behind me and I cast a glance over my shoulders before returning my eyes to the call.

“Will chat you up later, Er.” I said and ended the call, turning my attention back to mom who was already standing behind me.

“What is it, Mrs Banks?” I spat, placing emphasis on her new last name.

“We're heading to our new home.”

“Our?” I almost laughed out loud. “It's yours, mom—not mine.”

She walked to my front and tapped me on the shoulders, her eyes dimming slightly. “Accept it or not, you're no longer a Williamson, Ezran. You're now a Banks. You'll learn to embrace the family while living with them. By the way, I'm selling the old house.”

“Of course, I don't have a choice. Do I?”

I walked out on her. Not because I was furious, but because I didn't want to say stuff that would upset her.

I just wanna die.

…

The Banks Villa was paradise on Earth but I didn't even bother to admire or take a look around. I just needed a new place to sleep.

New house, new stepfamily, new rules, new boundaries. And the new older stepbrother? Dangerous, untouchable, and entirely out of my control.

I watched as the maids dragged my luggage into the house and I sauntered behind them.

When did mom even prepare all my things?

“Ezran!” Jenna called, running towards me.

My brows curled upwards.

“Dad said I should show you to your wing of the house.”

I nodded and watched as she moved ahead of me.

The villa was pretty but I wasn't going to stare at anything. At least, not now.

We took the stairs, walked through hallways stopped in front of a door at the far right end of the West Wing hallway.

“Remember to come down to the dinning hall for dinner. Ask the helps to show you around.” Jenna said as I touched the handle of the door.

Dinner. No way I'm joining them for dinner.

“I'll pass.” I muttered, stepping into the room. “I'm not hungry.”

A gasp escaped my lips as I gaped at raw beauty.

My room was breathtakingly to my taste. Blue sheets, blue duvets, blue curtains, a king-sized bed, a bedside table and chair, full-length mirror, jewelry locker stacked with different jewelries of gold, silver and diamond.

“What the hell!” I almost passed out in shock.

I staggered slightly, my fingers grabbing my chest.

A Bvlgari watch and a Rolex?

“Shit!”

I rushed into the bathroom and my mouth dropped open.

Blue tiled walls and blue towels. Mom must have convinced her husband to refine the room to my taste.

I peeled off my clothes and entered under the shower, the cool water dripping on me.

This was a whole new level of rich.

After bathing, I tried to focus on my laptop, on the codes I’d been working on for weeks, but my thoughts kept drifting off to him. I imagined him, standing tall in the hallway, dark eyes unreadable, the smallest crease in his jaw betraying a flicker of curiosity or—was it annoyance?

The next morning, a soft knock sounded on my door. Jeanne knocked gently before entering.

“Ezran, breakfast is ready.”

I groaned. “Can I skip?”

“Nope. Dad said it's essential for bonding and Mom said it’s important we start normal,” she said, tossing me a half-smile before heading downstairs.

Reluctantly, I followed, my schoolbag hanging on my right shoulder. And there he was. Lucian. Sitting at the head of the table like a statue of perfection. Black tailored shirt, perfectly ironed trousers, hair slicked back in that impossibly neat style that screamed control. He looked untouchable, dangerous and infuriatingly handsome.

Our eyes met briefly. Neither of us smiled and neither looked away. A silent challenge passed between us but I refused to back down and he didn’t flinch. I wanted to scream out in discomfort.

“Good morning.” I said to no one in particular.

“Take your seat, Ezran.” Mr Banks said, beckoning towards a vacant seat.

I looked at the seat he offered. It was right beside Lucian!

“Uh…can I sit elsewhere?”

“No dear,” Mom chipped in. “Sit closer to the family.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance as I dropped on the chair.

Sit closer to the family or sit next to Lucian? Which did she mean?

Breakfast was unbearable. Lucian barely spoke in mumbles, only answered when necessary, his words clipped, brief and precise. Jeanne tried to keep the conversation light, Charlyn’s comments were sharp and subtle, like she was testing us all.

I realized something important: this man wasn’t just a stepbrother. He was a rival, a mirror, and an obstacle. One I hadn’t asked for but could not ignore.

I picked out all the spring onions and green peas in the rice, placing them on an empty plate.

“You don't like them?” Jenna asked in concern and I shook my head, my eyes drifting off to Lucian.

“Selective brat.” he muttered under his breath. But I heard anyway.

My eyes dimmed slightly and I clenched my fists.

“What did you just call me?”

The table fell into silence.

Mom's eyes were pleading with me, Jenna was staring at her brother and Charlyn and Robert seemed unfazed by whatever we were doing.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” I asked again, rage seeping slowly through me.

“A selective brat. You have any issues with that?”

Geez! I swear I hate Lucian.

“Look, I'd prefer you mind your fucking business, Lucian Banks.”

“Mind your language, Ezran.” Mom chipped in. “He is your elder. Give him his res—”

“Mind your fucking business too, Mrs Banks.” I shouted, cutting her off. “You never asked for my opinion at all, so if my speaking to your stepson doesn't sit well with you, suit yourself.”

I picked up my backpack and stormed out of the dining room, rushing outside the house.

….

The morning after our first real standoff, the house felt like a battlefield. Every footstep echoed too loudly, every door creaked under my nerves. I kept imagining Lucian’s sharp gaze lurking behind every corner, waiting to punish me for some imaginary crime.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I slipped on my night robe. I looked haggard. I was trying to convince myself that it was overstudying but deep down, I knew the real cause of my sudden haggardness.

A soft knock on my door drew my attention back to reality.

“Ezran dear, we need to talk.”

Mom pushed the door open with a smile on her face. A nervous smile actually.

“If you're here to lecture me on how to talk to your new family, please don't start. I have a dozen school assignments to complete by tonight.”

She sighed loudly, taking slow steps towards me. She stopped in front of me, her eyes locked on mine.

“I'm sorry for everything. For forcing you to accept my new family.” She paused and brushed her fingers softly into my hair. “But please, I need you to make this work. I need you to accept Robert and his children.”

“Well, I'm sorry for how I sounded in the morning. I'll apologize to Robert and the girls for the disrespect.”

A smile curled up on her face and she pulled me into a hug, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“And Lucian. Won't you apologize to him?”

“Never.” I mumbled stubbornly.

She laughed softly, patting my back. “Come downstairs for dinner. I asked the maids to cook to your preference today.”

I gave her a slight nod.

…

Dinner was silent after my morning outburst. Jeanne chirped beside me, trying to fill the void with stories about her college friends, but I only half-listened. My mind kept drifting to Lucian. He didn’t speak much, as always, but there was a quiet intensity about him that made me hyper-aware of every movement, every word.

“Ezran, don’t look so grumpy,” Jeanne whispered, nudging my arm. “It’s dinner, not a death sentence.”

I forced a smile, nudging her arm back. She giggled, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

And then I saw him. Lucian, sitting at the head of the table, coffee in hand, eyes following me like a hawk. It was infuriating. Everything about him screamed control: his posture, the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark intensity in his eyes. He could crush me with a word, and I hated myself for noticing the pull of it.

“Uh..I want to apologize for earlier on. That didn't speak well of my upbringing. I apologize.”

Robert gave me a calm smile, his large palms resting on mine. “I'm glad you owned up to your mistake, kid. I'm super proud of you and I'll reward you for being responsible.”

I nodded and turned my eyes to the girls. Charlyn shrugged her shoulders and went back to her meal, Jenna squeezed my palms softly.

My eyes drifted off to Lucian and I found him staring right back at me.

“Apology accepted,” he said flatly. No warmth. No inflection beyond the bare minimum.

“Yeah,” I muttered back, careful not to give him anything to use against me.

Two days in this shared household was already so much torture. Our interactions were minimal but electric. The environment was tense and choked up especially with the way Lucian was staring at me.

The way he observed me when I wasn’t paying attention—everything set me on edge.

Dinner was over and soon, everyone went to bed. I had taken my laptop to the living room; the house was quiet, the only light coming from the glow of my screen. I was deep in coding, fingers flying over the keyboard, when I sensed movement behind me.

“Ezran.”

My heart skipped a beat. I froze.

“I need to talk to you.” Lucian said, his voice, low and controlled, yet somehow cutting through the silence like a blade.

I swallowed hard. “Talk about what?”

“Your attitude,” he said simply, sitting on a couch, arms crossed. His presence was oppressive. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

“My attitude?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though my pulse was betraying me. “I’m not the one who spoke rudely first, you are the real predator.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I am no predator. You are the problem.”

I shot up from the couch, shoving my laptop aside. “Problem? You think I’m the problem? You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, stepping closer. His proximity was dangerous. My pulse raced, and I hated how aware I was of the warmth radiating off him.

“And you don’t know what it means to be part of a family like mine. You need to learn boundaries. Now or never.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but something in his eyes—something sharp, piercing, commanding, stopped me. He didn’t need to touch me to assert dominance; his presence was enough.

I stepped back, pretending to pick up my laptop, but really, I was trying to regain my composure.

“Fine,” I muttered, voice tight as I clutched my laptop to my racing chest. “Learn boundaries. Got it.”

“Good.”

His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, and I wondered if he realized how close he had come to breaking me, not physically, but mentally.