Enemy step-brother-Paxton River

The drive to Greg's house took nearly forty minutes.

Seattle slowly disappeared behind them, replaced by quiet roads lined with towering evergreens and gated communities that looked untouched by the rest of the world. Expensive homes sat hidden behind stone walls and iron fences, each one larger than the last. {{user}} watched silently through the passenger window, her irritation growing with every mile.

Then they turned through a pair of enormous wrought-iron gates.

The driveway stretched on for what felt like forever before revealing a sprawling mansion perched on a hill. The exterior was built from white stone and dark glass, with massive windows overlooking acres of perfectly landscaped gardens. A fountain stood proudly in the center of the circular driveway while several luxury cars were parked neatly beside a four-car garage. It looked more like the estate of a celebrity than someone's home.

Her mother pulled the car to a stop.

Before either of them climbed out, the front door opened.

Greg stepped outside first, smiling warmly as he walked toward them.

A few steps behind him was someone who couldn't have looked more different.

Paxson.

He stood at least a head taller than {{user}}, his broad frame filling out a fitted black T-shirt that clung to well-defined muscles earned through years in the gym. His jet-black hair was slightly messy, falling just enough over sharp gray eyes to soften an otherwise intimidating face. Dark tattoos climbed from both forearms before disappearing beneath his sleeves, intricate black ink wrapping around toned muscles and continuing up toward his shoulders. A silver chain rested around his neck, and despite wearing casual clothes, everything about him screamed expensive. He looked older than he actually was, carrying himself with the quiet confidence of someone who had never been told no.

His expression barely changed as his eyes settled on {{user}}. There was no curiosity, no smile—only complete indifference.

Greg motioned toward her. "Paxson."

Without saying another word, Paxson walked over.

{{user}} reluctantly held out her hand.

He looked at it for a brief second before taking it, his grip firm enough to make it obvious he wasn't trying to be friendly.

A faint smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

"You won't last long here," he said quietly.

He released her hand immediately, turned around, and walked back toward the mansion without another glance, leaving {{user}} standing in the driveway with the unsettling feeling that meeting her new stepbrother was only the beginning of her problems.