His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 16

**TITLE: Betrayal Births**
**by Joseph King**
**Chapter 16**

**Claire’s POV**

I never envisioned a life that would spiral into such chaos.

It was already a monumental challenge to survive each day, pushing myself to the brink just to keep my head above water. But now?

Now I was forced to contend with this insufferable jerk who seemed hell-bent on turning my existence into a living nightmare. What was his motive?

Money?

Power?

What good were those hollow pursuits when I was struggling just to find a reason to wake up in the morning? Naomi had told me that he had lost his mother, and while I could empathize, it didn’t lessen the weight of my own loss. I had been yanked from my once-ordinary life, thrown into this twisted reality, mourning not just my father but the life I used to have.

I buried my face in my trembling hands, grappling with the notion of some cruel twist of fate that had led me to endure this torment.

For what felt like an eternity, I fixated on the framed picture of a horse galloping across an endless field, its movement a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. My breath came in shallow gasps, uneven and quick, as my fingers clutched the duvet with an intensity that threatened to tear it apart. His voice echoed in my head, a venomous whisper that lingered like a bad taste in my mouth.

It was the kind of threat that etched itself into your psyche, one you couldn’t erase no matter how fervently you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. Because I didn’t care. I had to keep telling myself that.

Yet, I loathed how my heart raced at the mere thought of him.

I despised how he wielded that much influence over me—over my body, my racing pulse, my fragile heart that was already prone to betrayal without his interference.

“Calm down,” I murmured to myself, rocking gently as I tried to regain my composure. Breathe in… and out. In… and out.

Minutes dragged on before I felt steady enough to move. I made my way to my desk drawer, fumbling for the small orange bottle of pills that had become my lifeline. I popped one into my mouth and swallowed it dry, the bitter taste scratching at my throat like a harsh reminder of the rules my body imposed. Break them, and everything could come crashing down.

Sometimes, the thought of surrendering to that darkness didn’t seem so terrible.

Sleep eluded me that night. When I finally drifted off, it was a shallow, feverish slumber filled with nightmares where my heart simply… stopped. In those dreams, Elijah stood over me, grinning as if the moment was a punchline to a twisted joke only he understood.

The morning light crept through the curtains, too bright and too early. My alarm screeched, but I had already been awake for what felt like an eternity, staring blankly at the ceiling above me.

With a heavy heart, I dragged myself from the comfort of my bed and went through the mundane motions of getting ready: a shower, slipping into my uniform, hair pulled back tightly. Perhaps attending school would help me shake off this self-imposed fog.

Glancing in the mirror, I barely recognized the pale reflection staring back at me. My cheeks were sunken, and dark circles had taken residence beneath my eyes. Makeup couldn’t mask that level of exhaustion, especially since I wasn’t inclined to apply much of it.

As I descended the stairs, the familiar scent of coffee and toast filled the air. Mom was already at the counter, cradling a steaming mug in her hands.

She looked worn out too, her smile strained as she glanced up at me. I blinked, trying to muster some semblance of normalcy.

“Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?”

I shrugged, the word “fine” slipping out automatically, tasting sour on my tongue.

She scrutinized me for a moment too long, then reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t push yourself too hard today, okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied, snatching a piece of toast to avoid further conversation.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and my stomach twisted into knots. Moments later, Elijah appeared, a hockey bag slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp from a shower. He didn’t even glance in my direction, completely ignoring my existence as he strode across the kitchen towards the fridge.

The silence that enveloped us was suffocating.

Mom cleared her throat. “Good luck at practice today, Elijah.”

He responded with a noncommittal grunt, yanking a bottle of water from the fridge. His gaze flicked to me for a brief moment, sharp and icy, before he turned away.

I recalled the chocolate cake incident from the day before. What was he planning to do about it?

With my appetite vanishing, I dropped the toast back onto the plate. “I’ll wait in the car.”

“Claire—” Mom began, but I was already moving, not wanting to engage in further discussion.

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