My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 107: Yarn Of Lies (BC)

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I woke up the next morning already regretting almost every decision that led me to this moment, because there I was... standing in front of my mirror, tugging at the neck of the thick gray turtleneck sweater I’d sworn I would never wear in my life. It felt like a suffocating wool prison hugging my throat. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

But desperate times called for desperate measures—and nothing screamed "hide the hickey your boyfriend left on your neck in the dressing room of a mall" more than a turtleneck.

I didn’t even look like myself. I looked like someone who enjoyed jazz cafés and knitted on weekends.

Not that licking those things were bad, just that it didn’t feel like... me.

Still, I grabbed my backpack, inhaled deeply, and forced myself downstairs before I chickened out.

As I made my way down the stairs, I hoped no one would notice how stiff I looked in this ridiculous turtleneck. Each step felt like I was walking to my own execution. The sweater felt like a wool noose around my neck, and I kept tugging at the collar, silently pleading for it to stop touching me.

I tried to enter the dining room casually, but the moment I stepped inside, it hit me.

Adrien’s gaze.

Those eyes were burning into me, piercing and wild.

He didn’t say a word, not even his typical sarcastic greeting. Just stared at me with a tight jaw and dark eyes; his tension was palpable. If looks could kill, I’d be buried under the table.

I took a seat next to him, because my life evidently resembles a comedy and focused intently on my food, as if it held all the answers to the universe. My hands shook as I lifted my fork, unable to glance in his direction; the air around him felt charged, like a storm waiting to explode.

Mom and Keith were completely oblivious. Thank goodness.

Mom poured herself some tea. "So, about the new investors from Boston..." she started cheerfully.

Keith nodded. "I’m planning the meeting for next Tuesday, right before the quarterly review. If they agree to the proposal, we can expand the manufacturing wing by spring."

"Really?" Mom asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Keith replied, reaching for toast. "I talked to Arnold yesterday; he thinks the projected growth—"

Their conversation filled the room with background noise, but it couldn’t drown out the thick tension hanging between Adrien and me.

He still hadn’t said anything.

He didn’t need to his silence was deafening. I could sense his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Every few moments, I caught a glance from the corner of my eye, sharp and accusing, like the mere existence of my turtleneck was a personal affront to him.

I was so flustered I could barely breathe. I chewed my food excruciatingly slowly, trying to act like it was completely normal to be glared at by someone who looked ready to explode.

Mom kept chatting, bless her. "—and if everything goes well, we could invite them to the end of the year gala. It’d be convenient for everyone."

Keith agreed. "It’s about time. The company needs something fresh."

Adrien’s fork scraped against his plate, loud and harsh, a sound just angry enough to raise suspicion, but not quite.

I risked a tiny glance at him.

Bad idea.

His face was stone-cold, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes were fixed ahead, but there was a fury in them, almost like he wanted to demand I take off the sweater right there at the table just to confirm his suspicions.

My face felt on fire. I ducked my head, wishing I could just crawl under the table and stay there.

Keith continued, unaware. "I want to present something strong that showcases how unified the Fell name is."

Adrien let out a bitter breath that Keith didn’t catch, but I did. Of course, I noticed.

Adrien wasn’t just angry.

He was seething.

And inside, I was dying.

I fixed my gaze on my plate, trying not to break into a nervous sweat. The worst part was the silence, his silence. Usually, he had something to say or at least a snide comment to throw back at me. But this quiet rage? That was something new. And way scarier.

Mom smiled as she sipped her tea. "I think this is all going to turn out wonderfully."

Adrien stabbed at a strawberry with such force that it made his fork crack against the plate.

I nearly jumped.

I tightened the turtleneck around my neck, swallowing hard, pretending my heart wasn’t a chaotic mix of guilt, panic, and oh God, flustered heat.

Breakfast felt like it lasted an eternity.

Mom lifted her eyes from her cup and froze mid-sip, her brows shooting up as she leaned forward with a dramatic gasp.

"Oh my goodness—Noah, is that a turtleneck?" she practically shrieked, hand to her chest as if I’d just announced my intention to join a cult.

I stiffened, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Uh... yes?"

"But you hate turtlenecks," she exclaimed, aghast. "You said they felt like you were being choked by a knitted python. Why on earth are you wearing one now?"

Before I could respond, Adrien interjected in a low, slow tone, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Yes, Noah," he leaned in closer, his gaze burning into my profile. "Why?"

The way he said it felt less like a question and more like an accusation.

My heart was racing.

I shot him a glare that could kill, but his stare felt like fingertips trailing down my spine. "I’m...uh... e–experimenting with my style," I said, clearing my throat dramatically. "Gigi told me I should. Apparently, her...her fortune reading says I need to ’refresh my aura’ and start wearing things I normally avoid."

Mom perked up. "Oh! Is she doing those crystal readings things again? I need to ask her about my career prospects." She seemed to buy my excuse completely.

Adrien did not.

Obviously...

He leaned in close enough for his breath to brush my neck, sending a jolt down my spine.

"You’re a terrible liar, Hamster." he whispered.

My fork slipped and clattered against my plate. I jerked away from him, pushing against his shoulder in a way that sounded too nervous to pass for annoyed.

"Can you not?" I hissed. "Just... leave me alone."

He leaned back, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he enjoyed catching me in a lie. His gaze fell back on the collar of my sweater, slow and assessing, so I tugged it higher, trying to contain my embarrassment.

Keith and Mom continued their chatter about meetings and reports, blissfully unaware of the silent battle going on beside them.

Internally, I was begging for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

Adrien didn’t speak another word, but his message was clear.

He knew.

And he wasn’t letting it go.