My CEO Brother Wants Me
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.
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Chapter 3
AVA
I took a breath and walked down the stairs.
I didn't see him yet, but I heard his voice. It was deeper than I remembered. He didn't even need to be loud to be heard.
"I've been busy," he said.
Seraphina clicked her tongue. "Busy is not an excuse, Lucien. You disappear for months and think visiting now fixes it."
"I call," he replied.
"Once in a while," she shot back. "You didn't even visit when Ava was still abroad."
I slowed my steps without meaning to.
Alaric sighed softly. "You two have been having this same argument for years," he said. "Let him breathe."
I reached the bottom step just as Seraphina looked up and saw me.
Her face softened immediately. "There you are."
Lucien turned, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
He was taller, somehow impossibly taller than he was six years ago. I didn't even know how that was possible. I had seen him on screens, interviews and articles. The media loved him.
But none of it came close.
He was wearing black from head to toe, a fitted top tucked neatly into black trousers. I could see his muscles and abs popping out. His hair was slicked back, except for one strand that had fallen loose on his forehead.
He looked... unbelievably handsome. There was no other word for it.
Then our eyes met, and I froze
Seraphina cleared her throat quickly. "Lucien, Ava is back."
"I can see that," he said dryly. "Welcome back."
"Thank you," I said.
"Come," Seraphina said quickly. "Dinner is ready."
She guided us to the dining room.
I took my seat across from Lucien. Alaric sat at the head of the table with Seraphine beside him.
Dinner started quietly.
"So tell us, how was school?" Seraphina asked, glancing at me.
"It was good," I said. "Challenging, but good."
"And Stella?" she asked. "Is she coming back to Port Elam, or staying in London?"
"She'll be coming soon," I replied. "She's just waiting for her boyfriend to finish some projects so they can move together."
Seraphina smiled. "That's sweet."
Then she tilted her head at me, eyes bright with curiosity. "And what about you, Ava? Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No," I said. "I haven't really... explored dating."
Alaric looked at me, surprised. "Why not? A woman with a face like yours could have any man she wanted."
I laughed, a little embarrassed. "I don't know about that."
"Well," he said, "it's true."
I shrugged lightly. "I guess I'm just waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Seraphina asked, amused.
"My prince charming," I said jokingly. "Someone who would love me for me. Not because I look good or because I have money...well, your money. Just honest love."
Seraphina laughed. "You want a love story from a book."
I smiled. "Maybe I do."
Seraphina leaned forward a little, still smiling. "But surely there must be someone who has caught your attention."
I felt heat rush to my face before I could stop it.
I looked down at my plate, suddenly very aware of Lucien sitting beside me.
"There is... someone," I admitted.
Seraphina's smile widened instantly. "I knew it."
I laughed softly, nervous. "It's nothing serious."
"Why not?" she asked.
I hesitated, then said, "I don't think it would work."
"Why?" Alaric asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know. He's staying back in London, besides men don't really approach me much."
That part was true. People looked, admired me even but they rarely came closer. It had always been like that.
Seraphina looked surprised. "That's hard to believe."
I just smiled faintly and focused on my food.
Beside me, Lucien still hadn't spoken but when I glanced down, I noticed his grip on the cup had tightened. For a second, I wondered if the glass might actually crack. His face, though, gave nothing away.
Alaric cleared his throat.
"So," he said, setting his cutlery down, "what's next for you, Ava?"
I looked up. "Next?"
"Yes. Now that you've graduated."
"Oh," I said. "I'm hoping to start applying for jobs soon."
There was a pause, then I noticed the way both Seraphina and Alaric frowned, like they didn't quite understand what I'd just said.
Lucien, who had been mostly silent all evening, finally looked at me. It made me sit up without meaning to.
Alaric leaned back in his chair. "Apply for jobs?" he repeated.
"Yes," I said. "I want to work. You know...gain experience."
He exchanged a look with Seraphina. "Why would you apply for jobs when you're family?"
I blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You could work at Hale Corporation," he continued. "There's no need for you to go elsewhere."
Seraphina nodded in agreement. "Your father is right. You don't have to start from the bottom elsewhere."
I opened my mouth to respond, but she kept going.
"Lucien would be glad to find you a suitable position," she added, glancing toward him.
I could feel Lucien's attention on me again. I smiled politely, but I shook my head.
"I appreciate that," I said, "but I'd like to work on my own. Build something myself."
I continued before anyone could interrupt.
"I was thinking of applying to Greenfield," I added. "They're expanding their strategy department."
"There's no need for that." Lucien finally said.
Everyone looked at him.
I frowned, confused by the certainty in his tone.
Seraphina, however, didn't look confused. She looked... anxious.
Lucien set his cutlery down neatly and wiped his hands with his napkin before speaking again.
"You won't be applying anywhere."
My brows pulled together. "I'm sorry?"
He faced me directly. "There's no reason for you to work outside,"
"I want to." I countered.
"That's unnecessary." The arrogance in his voice made my chest tighten.
"With all due respect," I said, trying to stay calm, "it's not unnecessary to me."
Lucien didn't look offended. If anything, he looked more serious.
"We're getting married." He declared.
For a second, I didn't quite understand the words.
"Sorry... what?"
Seraphina inhaled sharply. Alaric didn't look surprised. He just rubbed his temple like this conversation had been waiting to happen.
"You and I," Lucien said without breaking eye contact with me. "We're getting married."
My chair scraped against the floor as I leaned back.
I laughed, "That's not funny."
"I'm not laughing." He replied.
My heart started pounding. "Lucien," I said slowly, "I'm your sister."
He didn't even blink. "You live in my house," he replied. "That doesn't make you my sister."
The room went completely quiet.
I stared at Lucien, trying to figure out if he had lost his mind but his face was calm, and that scared me more than anything else he could have said.
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8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?
7.6
I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart.
7.1
The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.
9.4
I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness.
But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C.
In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate.
My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer.
They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career.
"Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly."
That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much.
Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat?
Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image?
Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished.
I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023.
It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes.
This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.
8.2
Ashley was tied to a rusted iron pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the noxious fumes of gasoline soaking her clothes.
Her fiancé Devon and her stepsister Brittany stood before her, revealing a horrifying truth. Devon never saved her from that fatal car crash three years ago; he merely stole the credit.
Worse, Brittany smirked and confessed that Ashley's own father had orchestrated her mother's murder. Before Ashley could process the betrayal, Devon callously tossed a lighter. A wall of blistering heat instantly consumed her. Even when Bennett Hawkins, the cold and untouchable billionaire, rushed into the inferno to shield her with his body, they were both swallowed by the explosion.
As the fire melted her skin, Ashley died with agonizing hatred. Why did her own flesh and blood want her dead? What dark secret were they hiding about her mother's tragic death?
Opening her eyes again, freezing saltwater violently flooded her lungs.
She was back at her twentieth birthday yacht party, right after Brittany had secretly pushed her into the freezing Hudson River.
Staring at the hypocritical faces of her family pretending it was an accident, Ashley didn't cry or beg. She calmly snatched a phone and dialed 911.
"Yes. I need to report an attempted murder."