Chapter 4

The Quinn Family Estate.

I found myself staring at a remarkably handsome young man.

He wasn't just good-looking—he was undeniably young, too.

His eyes were bright and clear, his skin smooth and glowing like fresh porcelain. I squinted. This kid couldn't be older than seventeen, maybe not even that.

Margaret Quinn gave the boy a hearty slap on the shoulder, hard enough to make him wince and bare his teeth.

"What are you standing there for, say hello!" she barked.

The boy rubbed his nose, then bowed slightly with perfect manners. "Good evening, Miss. I'm Dylan Quinn. I'm a junior in high school. Please take care of me."

My face flushed with embarrassment. I cautiously turned to Margaret.

"Um... does Brandon know he has a younger brother?"

She waved a hand, completely unfazed.

"That boy's not even from me and Richard. No need for him to know."

"Those two—father and son—both have a thing for manipulative little witches."

"When Brandon was little, I was just starting my company. I was always out working, barely home. By the time I realized Richard had rekindled things with his old flame, she was already pregnant."

"And that brat Brandon? He threw tantrums, crying that he wanted her to be his new mommy. Nearly drove me up the wall."

"Unfortunately, before I could kick both father and son to the curb, Richard took his mistress out for a joyride. Car accident. Dead on the spot. Three lives gone."

"Few years later, I ran into my high school sweetheart by chance. Turns out he was still single. So, I... took the opportunity. Got him drunk one night and borrowed a bit of seed..."

I stood there, jaw practically on the floor. Dylan's face turned scarlet.

"Mom! Is this really something I should be hearing? I'm just a kid!" he cried.

Margaret smacked him hard again. He yelped.

"You're nearly eighteen. 'Just a kid,' my foot! Now listen to me—Stephanie is my hand-picked daughter-in-law. You treat her right. And if you ever turn out like that worthless half-brother of yours, I'll chop off your legs in a heartbeat!"

Dylan shuddered and instinctively clamped his legs together, looking at me with wide, pleading eyes.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the boy across from me, cheeks burning.

"Margaret... maybe you should check again if you've got any other sons. This one's lovely, really, but he's a bit too young. I just can't bring myself to..."

Before Margaret could respond, Dylan was already waving his hands and shaking his head frantically.

"I'm not that young! My classmates all say mine's bigger than theirs! Seriously!"

Margaret slapped a hand over his mouth, full of disgust.

My face turned an even deeper shade of red.

She'd come back to the estate today to collect all the property deeds stored here.

In her words, Brandon was an idiot. Who knew when that little gold-digger might sweet-talk him into giving her the deeds for free?

Just to be safe, she decided to move everything into a secure location.

Now, as she sorted through stack after stack of real estate documents, she muttered aloud:

"No more sons, that's for sure. And it's too late to make another one now... Seventeen or eighteen is too young, and the twenty-five-year-old's a scumbag. What am I going to do?"

Dylan and I exchanged glances. Neither of us dared say a word.

Suddenly—BANG!

Margaret slapped the deeds down on the table with a loud smack.

Her eyes were shining with purpose as she looked at me.

"Wait! I've got one more! This one, you'll love!"

Oh no, Margaret, what else have you been hiding?

"If you can't be my daughter-in-law, then you can be my sister-in-law! Hold on, I'm calling my bachelor brother right now. You two need to meet!"

Me: What?!

Too young on one end, too old on the other—no, please no!

I bolted.