His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 85

**TITLE: Betrayal Births**
**by Joseph King**
**Chapter 85**

**Claire’s POV**

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile while my gaze remained glued to the window, avoiding his eyes. “Just tired.”

He didn’t push further. Instead, he pulled a clean shirt from his bag, grabbed a towel, and shot me one last glance—an unreadable flicker in his eyes that left me unsettled before he stepped out.

–

As soon as the door clicked shut, I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage like a frantic bird trying to escape.

Ugh, how I despised feeling so lost and adrift.

After Elijah left, I found myself rooted in place, staring at the closed door as if it might somehow reveal the answers to the questions swirling in my mind. The silence enveloped me, pressing against my ears until I could hear the steady thrum of my own heartbeat once more.

What was happening to me? Each time he was near, a rush of warmth surged through me, an unsettling pull in my chest that I couldn’t quite comprehend. Nothing in my life made sense lately, and this confusion only deepened my frustration.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, and before I even realized my own intentions, I was on my feet. The coolness of the floor beneath me sent a shiver up my spine as I stepped into the corridor, drawn by the faint scent of soap mixed with something warm and clean—something oddly familiar. I followed the enticing aroma until I reached a half-open door.

“Elijah,” I called out, spotting him in the middle of the room.

He paused, turning to glance back at me, an eyebrow arched in surprise.

Inside, he was pulling a sweatshirt over his head, his back to me. For a fleeting moment, I considered retreating, but the thought of returning to the solitude of my room felt unbearable.

I knocked softly on the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

He glanced over his shoulder, a simple “Yeah” escaping his lips.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The room was modest yet inviting, filled with the essence of a life well-lived. Books were haphazardly stacked on the desk, a pair of skates rested against the wall, and a black jacket hung carelessly over the back of a chair. I stole a glance at him, my mind racing to find the right words.

“I wanted to ask about the gala,” I ventured, breaking the silence. “Dad mentioned you were supposed to help me prepare.”

He nodded, running a towel through his damp hair, droplets of water cascading down his neck. “Yeah. It’s next week. Mostly formal stuff—dress rehearsals, dance routines, etiquette lessons—all that jazz.”

I hesitated, my heart fluttering nervously. “Was I… any good at it before?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You were really good, yeah. Although, to be honest, it bored you half the time.”

That sounded like me, even if the specifics escaped my memory.

The room fell silent again, the only sound being the soft rustle of fabric as he moved around. I couldn’t quite place why I lingered there, but leaving felt like a loss I wasn’t ready to face. My eyes wandered to the photos pinned on his board—none of them included me. There were snapshots of him with other students, one with an older man who bore a striking resemblance to Ethan, and another of a sports team, all smiling faces that seemed so distant.

“You play hockey?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly, “but I haven’t been on the ice much lately.”

There was something about the way he said it that wrapped around me like a warm blanket, making me feel safe. I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He turned to grab a water bottle from his desk, twisting the cap off with a practiced ease before taking a long drink. I noticed the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, and for the first time since I met him, his expression softened, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. After a moment of contemplation, he asked, “You want to go swimming later?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Swimming?”

“Yeah. The pool behind the house. You used to go there sometimes when you couldn’t sleep. But you never really went in the water. Wanna try?”

The suggestion tugged at something deep within me, like a whisper echoing from a distant memory. I didn’t know why, but the idea felt right, as if it belonged to me. A smile crept onto my lips before I could stop it. “Sure,” I replied, enthusiasm bubbling beneath the surface. “I’d like that.”

A small smile flickered across his face, quick and almost imperceptible, but it was there. “Six o’clock,” he said, his tone playful. “Don’t be late.”

I nodded, unable to suppress the tiny spark of excitement igniting in my chest.

As I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, noticing the way his eyes followed me for a brief moment before he looked away. My stomach tightened again, the warmth from earlier flooding back, engulfing me in a sensation I couldn’t quite name.

Back in my room, I perched on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone as the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow. Each second felt like it was drawing me closer to something exhilarating yet incomprehensible.

For the first time since waking up in that sterile hospital bed, I felt something other than confusion… anticipation.

I had no idea what swimming with Elijah would mean or why it mattered so profoundly, but it felt like a step toward rediscovering a part of myself that had been lost in the haze of my memory.

And I was ready to take that step.