Pearl P.O.V.

I rolled around my bed like a restless kitten, moving from one side to the other. This weird habit had followed me since childhood. I always rolled around when I felt angry, bored, or annoyed. Sometimes I even fell off, but I never cared—it helped me feel calmer.

I had already unpacked my things in this oversized room that looked like it came straight from a dollhouse. Pink and purple everywhere, a giant princess bed, and a bathroom bigger than my old bedroom. Any normal girl would have squealed in excitement, but I didn’t feel anything except emptiness. I missed my old small room where everything smelled like home.

The wardrobe was filled with expensive clothes—dresses, skirts, shoes, bags—all shiny and new. I didn’t even bother to look at half of it. I hated dresses. My go-to was jeans, hoodies, and sneakers. All of this felt like my mother’s doing, her way of turning me into some rich man’s showpiece.

Grantelle had spent a fortune trying to impress me. I wondered why he bothered. I wasn’t like my mother, who got heart eyes seeing credit cards and designer brands. But I did like one thing—a brand new cello. I loved playing the cello. It had been my peaceful escape before I quit lessons because I knew Dad couldn’t afford them. I lied to him, told him I lost interest. My mother must have told Grantelle about it.

I stared at the cello in the corner of my room, feeling a little warmth in my chest. Maybe Grantelle wasn’t all bad, but I quickly shook the thought away. I didn’t want to feel grateful towards anyone in this house.

I tried to sleep but every time I shut my eyes, I saw those stupid, intense green eyes of my stepbrother. Ugh, why was I even thinking about him? He didn’t even say a proper hello and left like I didn’t exist. Rude and silent, yet my mind kept replaying how insanely good-looking he was. Why couldn’t he just be ugly like his father? It would have been so much easier to hate him.

I groaned and shoved my face into my pillow. First, I drooled over the bodyguards, now my stepbrother, and to make it worse, I even caught myself thinking Grantelle wasn’t too bad-looking. Gross. What was happening to me?

Maybe I should just go flirt with the guards to distract myself. But none of them even looked at me. Every time I walked by, they stared at the floor like I was invisible. I wasn’t ugly—at least, I didn’t think so.

While I rolled across my bed, trapped in these annoying thoughts, a loud knock sounded on my door. I lost focus, rolled too far to the edge, and tumbled to the floor. My butt hit first, then the back of my head. I sat there, wincing and rubbing my sore head.

I heard footsteps and glanced toward the door. And there he was. My annoying, perfect-faced stepbrother leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Careful, little sis. Wouldn’t want that pretty head of yours to get damaged,” he said, his voice deep and smooth enough to make my spine tingle.

I scowled from the floor. “Oh, so you do have a voice,” I snapped, too annoyed to bother standing up. My eyes stayed stuck on his annoyingly flawless face.

I knew I sounded like a brat, but I couldn’t help it. How could he act like nothing happened after running away from me this morning like I was some disease?

I didn’t expect him to be a caring big brother—God forbid—but at least he could have been civil, especially in front of my mother. She had burst into tears after he left. As annoying as she had been lately, I hated seeing her like that. She was my mom after all.

Carrick stepped closer, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, I can speak. Looks like you can too.”

Without waiting for an invite, he sat down at the corner of my bed, while I stayed on the floor by his legs. I should’ve stood up, but for some reason, I didn’t.

“Get up,” he said, his voice low and commanding, like it was the most natural thing to order me around.

I wanted to scoff, but my body betrayed me. Before I could think, I stood and sat on the bed near him. My muscles moved before my brain caught up.

“Good,” Carrick said, eyes fixed on mine, sending a strange twist through my stomach.

His gaze stayed on me as he spoke, firm and steady. “Listen, don’t talk to me with that attitude again. I shouldn’t have left like that, but I had things to take care of. And… I don’t like that my father married your mom, so no, I didn’t show up at the wedding. But I don’t have anything against you.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I hope we can start fresh. Are we clear… little sister?”

That last part sent a chill down my spine, and I didn’t know why. I nodded quickly, unable to hold his stare. His presence made my head foggy.

“Words, Pearl. I need words,” he pressed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Yes,” I managed, though it came out shaky.

Carrick moved closer, his voice dipping into a whisper near my ear, “Yes, what?”

My breath hitched. His tone, his closeness… it all messed with my head. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. What was I supposed to say? Yes, brother? Yes, sir? My thoughts spiraled like a bad movie script.

“Y-Yes… brother,” I croaked out, my cheeks burning.

Carrick’s eyes stayed on me, our green gazes locked. Something unreadable flickered in his expression, and the air between us turned thick. After a few seconds, he blinked, cleared his throat, and stood up quickly, creating distance.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep,” he said before walking out, not even sparing me a glance.

I stared at the door after it closed, feeling my heart still racing. He left… again. What was it with him and walking away?

Strange man.