SINFULLY YOURS : My Stepbrother Wants Me

“…So, you'll marry him.” Georgiana trailed off, taking a gulp from her milk. “Your father and I already talked about it.”

The polished mahogany desk between them did nothing to soften the hostility in the air. Georgiana had set her mind on having this discussion today, and she had no intention of backing down. She sat with her back straight, an expensive silk blouse tucked into a pristine black skirt, looking every bit the classy, powerful woman she had always been.

Hope barely spared her a glance. She kept her attention on the charts displayed on her laptop, scrolling through the numbers like Georgiana wasn’t even speaking. She didn’t mind early mornings, the coffee, or the tasteless salad she had forced down for breakfast.

What she did mind, however, was being forced to go to work late because Georgiana wanted to talk about marriage.

She exhaled through her nose, finally looking up. “I'm sorry, you lost me at ‘I'll marry him.’” She turned off the laptop and leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Let me guess. He’s rich. Well-connected. Has the right last name. And marrying him would make things easier for you because then I'm no longer a Torres, and Father will no longer hesitate to will his empire to your son. Please, tell me if I missed anything.”

“Easier for us,” Georgiana corrected smoothly. “Your father and I are thinking about what’s best—”

“My father?” Hope let out a humorless laugh. “Since when does he make decisions? We both know you’re the one pulling the strings.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Please don’t be hostile, Hope. I carefully found a man from a well-respected family, wealth beyond measure, powerful connections. You would be well taken care of.”

Hope scoffed. “Right. Because you suddenly care about my well-being.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Georgiana’s face, but she quickly masked it with that familiar pleasant smile that never quite reached her eyes. “I care about this family’s future.”

“Potato, potahto,” Hope said dryly. “We both know why you're doing this, don't lie to my face.”

The sound of footsteps descending the grand staircase made Georgiana sit up straighter. Her cold expression smoothed out in an instant, replaced by a more composed softer one. She cleared her throat and tilted her head slightly. “You’re not being gotten rid of, dear,” she said, her voice calm, even. “You’re being placed where you should be—with a husband, in a position of influence and comfort. Why fight that? At some point, you're going to get married. I’m only doing what your mother never stayed long enough to do.”

That did it.

Hope pushed her coffee cup off the table so hard it shattered, the sound cutting through the air as she shot to her feet.

“Whatever hold you think you have on my father to talk to me this way,” she snapped, pointing a shaking finger at Georgiana, “I’m going to find it. And I’m going to cut it.”

The sound of the breaking cup made Julián’s steps quicken. He reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear her last words.

“Alejandra!” He yelled disapprovingly. “What has gotten into you? How dare you speak to your mother that way?”

Hope barely had time to roll her eyes before Georgiana moved quickly. She rushed to Julián’s side, pressing her head to his chest in a show of dismay and sadness.

Hope wanted to throw up at the sick, manipulative act. She clenched her jaw, rage boiling beneath her skin.

“She’s not my mother,” she spat, voice dripping with disgust. “That slut will never be my mother. The sooner you both realize that, the better it’ll be for us.”

Julián’s head snapped toward her, his expression darkening. In a blink, he closed the space between them and struck her across the face.

Her head whipped to the side, the sting spreading across her cheek, and the house fell into a stunned silence.

Julián’s chest heaved, his hand still raised, as if he was just realizing what he had done.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting this way lately,” he said with a slight tremor to his voice. “But you need to fix it. I won’t let you disrespect your mother.”

Georgiana stood behind him, watching the scene unfold with a barely concealed smirk.

A smug, victorious look.

Hope’s stomach twisted in fury.

Julián exhaled, his anger fading as realization set in. He reached a hand toward her, his expression softening. “Oh, mija…”

She stepped back before he could touch her.

The rejection made him freeze, his face crumbling with guilt. His hand suddenly moved to his chest, then to the nearby table for support.

Georgiana gasped, instantly switching. “Julián!” She rushed to his side, gripping his arm.

“Someone get the servants!” she called out.

Two of them arrived within seconds.

“Take him to his room,” she ordered. “I’ll make his soup.”

Hope stood motionless as they helped her father up the stairs, his breathing labored. He didn’t look at her.

Once they were gone, Georgiana turned back to her.

And then—she laughed quietly, holding her stomach.

“Oh, mija…” she mimicked her husband’s words mockingly. Then her eyes hardened. “You are not your father. You don’t have his experience, his reputation, or his instincts. Do you really believe you can run this company forever?”

Hope bit her cheek, clenching her fists until her nails dug into her palms.

“I have a son who is capable,” Georgiana continued, taking a step closer. “Why don’t you be a good daughter and let your mother handle this?”

She curled in disgust “A slut who doesn’t even know the father of her son will never be my mother,” she said with venom. “You are not worthy of that title.”

With that, she grabbed her laptop, shoved it into her handbag, and walked out without another word.

Georgiana’s smile fell. Her fingers curled into fists. With a quick motion, she pushed a plate off the table. It crashed onto the floor, shattering near the spilled coffee and broken cup. But she must have hit it too hard because she winced, blowing on her fingers.

Her gaze snapped to one of the passing male servants.

“You!” she barked. “Do you not see this mess? Or do you want me to clean it up myself?!”

The servant stiffened, then quickly bowed his head. “I apologize, señora,” he said before rushing to grab a mop and bucket.

Georgiana huffed, rolling her shoulders back, she straightened her blouse, exhaled slowly, and then sauntered off to the kitchen, "Just you wait Hope. I'll make sure you leave by yourself.” she muttered to herself as she dialed a number.