Plot Twist: Dodging My Toxic Ex to Claim My Stepbrother

I awakened to the truth right before my arranged marriage with the male lead. After being drugged, I didn't push open his hotel room door. Instead, gritting my teeth, I shoved open my stepbrother's door.

Under his stunned gaze, I pinned him against the door, kissed his earlobe, and whispered against his skin, "Please, save me."

I decided to go off-script. I wasn't going to marry the male lead over some orchestrated accident, only to get divorced later because of another woman.

I wasn't going to waste years entangled with him, nearly losing my life in the process, just to have a toxic "happily ever after."

This time, I was going to hold onto the man who would give up his own life for me, even if he refused to say the words "I love you."

At the wrap party celebrating my Best Actress win, a single glass of wine sent my head spinning.

I opted to leave early and head back to my hotel room to rest.

Right before I pushed open Carter's door, a flood of memories and scenes I had never actually lived flashed through my mind.

I awakened to reality: I was the female lead in a toxic, angsty romance novel where the guy treats the girl like trash before finally begging for her back.

The spiked drink tonight was a setup to get me into the director's room, framing me for sleeping my way to the top and securing my award through the casting couch.

In the original plot, I stumbled into the wrong roomCarter's room.

The next morning, a swarm of paparazzi would burst in, snapping photos of our one-night stand.

To save face, Carter would be forced to put his arm around me and announce to the press that we had been secretly dating and were planning to get married.

He would marry me, but in his heart, Id always be the scheming woman who used dirty tricks to trap him into marriage.

Because of that, the second we were married, he would slap a prenup and divorce papers in front of me to sign.

The marriage would have a three-year expiration date. After three years, wed divorce, and Id get a ten-million-dollar alimony payout.

He would repeatedly warn me not to catch real feelings during our sham marriage.

But as the tragic female lead, I had already fallen hard for him long before this incident, all because he helped me out once in the past.

Faced with his coldness, I foolishly hoped hed change his mind, especially after I got pregnant from that one night.

When I hinted at it, asking what he would do if I were pregnant, he ruthlessly told me to get an abortion.

Later, when his childhood sweetheart and I were kidnapped together, he wouldn't hesitate for a secondhed choose to save her, leaving me alone on a burning yacht.

I would fall into the ocean, my fate unknown.

I'd end up stranded overseas, secretly giving birth to his child.

Five years later, I would return to the States, determined to get justice.

After my supposed death, he would finally realize his "true feelings" for me. Hed search frantically, throwing away business deals just to cross paths with me again.

Hed uncover the truth about the spiked drink and confess that I was the one he truly loved.

Eventually, after he took a knife for me from his deranged childhood sweetheart and ended up in the ICU, Id soften, forgive him, and accept his proposal.

The sweetheart would go to prison, and wed have a grand vow renewal.

What an absurd, pathetic storyline.

Why should I ever look back at a man who put me through absolute hell?

I was going to rewrite the script and sever all ties with Carter.

This time, standing in front of the door I was supposed to open, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to walk a few steps further. Just as I was about to reach my own room, my legs gave out, and I crashed into another door.

The moment the door opened, I froze.

Standing there was Caleb, my stepbrother. I hadn't seen him in seven years.

He was wearing a bathrobe, the collar slightly parted. Droplets of water from his damp hair trailed down his chest. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses now, making him look far more aristocratic and aloof than he did at eighteen.

He looked even more unapproachable now, radiating a cold, restrained energy that was completely intoxicating.

Thanks to whatever was in my system, I was feeling a lot bolder than usual.

Normally, Id be slightly intimidated by him and would never dare to do what I did nextI shoved him backward, pinning him against the door.

He looked down at me and reached out to feel my forehead. "Are you drunk?"

The last thread of my rationality completely snapped.

His hand felt so incredibly cool against my burning skin.

I leaned in and haphazardly kissed his earlobe, whispering against his skin, "Please, save me."

I watched the tips of his ears turn a furious shade of red, a stark contrast to his usual stoic, ascetic expression.

A second later, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me inside. But instead of the bed, he headed straight for the bathroom.

Oh wow, going straight for the shower play...

He turned on the showerhead, and freezing cold water instantly drenched my entire body.

He looked away, his voice ice-cold. "Are you sober now? What kind of game are you playing this time?"

Crap. I forgot. The first two years after he returned from abroad were when our relationship was at its absolute worst.

He couldn't stand seeing me act like a pathetic doormat for Carter, so he always gave me the cold shoulder.

And ever since I joined his family, I felt like Caleb and I were natural enemies. I never had a nice word to say to him, thinking he was just my stepbrother who had no right to boss me around, so I constantly pulled pranks on him.

It was completely normal for him not to trust me right now.

I looked at his soaked torso, his bathrobe pulled halfway open by my grabbing hands, and closed my eyes.

"I was roofied. Please get me a doctor."

When he heard I was drugged, his head snapped back toward me, his eyes dropping to freezing temperatures. "Who did this?"

"I don't know." I paused, looking at his face, then took a deep breath and gritted my teeth. "Now get out."

I was barely holding it together.

He let out a self-deprecating chuckle, muttered a quiet, "No wonder," and stepped out of the bathroom.

Caleb found a female concierge doctor who hooked me up to an IV. Finally, the heat in my blood subsided.

The next morning, the paparazzi arrived right on schedule.

But when the hotel door burst open, the cameras caught Carter in bed with his childhood sweetheart, Ashley.

I guess she got exactly what she wanted.

All these years, Carter had never really gotten over Ashley. She was his first love.

Back in the day, his prominent family forced them to break up. The reason was clich: Ashley came from a working-class background, and the wealthy family didn't think she was good enough.

She was smart about it. Instead of fighting a losing battle, she took the initiative to leave. She refused the buyout money his mother offered, smoothly handed the audio recording of the threat over to Carter, broke up with him on the spot, and flew overseas to build her acting career.

She understood the toxic male ego perfectly: men always obsess over what they can't have.

So for years, Carter never forgot her.

The second she returned to the States, his eyes were glued to her, clearly signaling he wanted her back.

Behind the scenes, Ashley constantly provoked me, trying to make me lose my temper in front of Carter while simultaneously stringing him along.

This time, she probably panicked because rumors of a corporate merger and arranged marriage between my family and Carter's were leaking to the press. She wanted to kill two birds with one stone.

She was the one who spiked the drinks last night, taking the same drug herself. The substance metabolized quickly in the bloodstream, leaving no trace for a tox screen.

That was why I told Caleb I didn't know who did itwithout proof, pointing fingers was useless.

In the original timeline, the truth only came out much later when she completely lost her mind and confessed.

Besides, I didn't want Caleb fighting my battles. I wanted to destroy her myself.

"Are Mr. Carter and Ms. Ashley rekindling their romance?" a reporter shouted.

"What kind of question is that? Look at themthe real question is, when's the wedding?"

"Could you two give a statement on your current situation?"

Ashley played the shy, victimized card, pulling the duvet over herself and refusing to speak.

All eyes darted to Carter, but he didn't immediately confirm their relationship.

Instead, his eyes were locked onto me, standing in the hallway, watching the drama unfold.

Following his gaze, the paparazzi spotted me. A few reporters practically sprinted over, their eyes gleaming with the promise of drama.

"Chloe, did you know about them? What are your thoughts?"

I casually tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled gently. "I wish them the best on rekindling their spark. They should totally lock it down."

The second the words left my mouth, a stunned silence fell over the hallway.

"Chloe, there's no need to pretend you're fine. Everyone knows your history with Carter."

It was trueeveryone knew the wealthy socialite Chloe was psychotically obsessed with Carter.

For him, I got into underground street racing and ended up with a broken leg that took six months to heal.

For him, I got into a fistfight that landed me in a police precinct.

I even joined the entertainment industry purely because he once offhandedly mentioned he liked watching movies and would probably date an actress one day.

I knew full well that comment was aimed at his ex, Ashley, but I blindly dove into Hollywood anyway.

Even after his ex returned, I shamelessly clung to him. Despite being an A-list actress, my fans endlessly roasted me online for being a desperate "pick-me," but I never changed.

So, it was impossible for me to just casually wish them well.

"In the past, I was blinded by my own stupidity. My brain was basically mush," I said breezily. "But that's all in the past. I have new priorities now. They're a perfect match, and I hope they stay together forever."

Carter's face darkened terrifyingly. Instead of announcing his reunion with Ashley like I expected, he snatched a microphone from a reporter, slammed it into the floor, and roared, "Get the hell out! All of you, get out!"

With the show over, I turned around and headed back to my room. As I turned, I saw Caleb standing nearby, his brows furrowed as he stared at me.

Once we were inside my room, he spoke.

"If it hurts, just cry. I won't laugh at you."

His voice was surprisingly gentle. He genuinely thought I was heartbroken over Carter and was just putting on a brave face for the cameras.

A mischievous urge took over, and I threw myself into his arms. "I'm so heartbroken! My chest physically hurts. I gave up so much for him... why won't he just love me?"

Caleb went entirely rigid, his voice tight with a hoarse, bitter edge. "Do you really love him that much?"

Seeing him like that, I couldn't bear to tease him anymore.

In the past, I used to think he was just after my family's wealth, which was why he always tried to manage my life and play the responsible older brother.

Whenever we were in the same room, I was usually mocking him.

I mocked him for shamelessly following his mother to marry into my wealthy family.

I mocked him, calling him a gold-digging freeloader who would do anything for cash.

I constantly told him to drop the fake "caring brother" act.

That is, until I was trapped on that yacht. When the fire raged and I was abandoned to the flames, I thought I was dead.

But Caleb charged in from the outside. To protect me from the flames, he shielded me with his own body. Half of his face was severely burned, and a collapsing steel beam crushed his leg, leaving him with a permanent limp.

After that, he only dared to protect me from the shadows. He secretly paid for my directing classes overseas, wrote me anonymous letters encouraging me to become a famous director, and helped me return home in triumph.

When his wounds got infected in the hospital, he held a photo of me, whispering quietly to himself, asking if I really hated him that much. He said his scars were too terrifying now, and he didn't even dare to show his face to me.

He wanted me to remember him the way he was beforehandsome and whole.

When he died, he left his entire estate to me, never once mentioning that he loved me.

I looked up into his eyes and told him with absolute sincerity, "Starting today, I don't love him anymore. I am completely over Carter."

He froze for a second. Then he lifted a hand, gently wiping away the fake tear on my cheek, and spoke in a strained voice.

"You don't have to put on a brave face to lie to me. If you can't drop the act around me, I'll leave. I'll have your friend come keep you company."

"I'm not lying!"

"I get it. Brooke should be here soon."

He pulled my hands away and walked out with long strides.

Damn it. I only fake-cried because I felt terrible remembering how painfully he repressed his love for me in the original timeline. Now he totally misunderstood.

By the time my best friend Brooke arrived, I was downing shots out of frustration.

"Wow, the great socialite Chloe is actually day-drinking over a piece of trash?"

"I am not drinking over that idiot Carter."

I guess I was a little too blunt, because Brooke actually looked up at the ceiling in shock.

"Is the sky falling? You actually insulted him? In the past, if I said a single bad word about him, you'd rip my head off and remind me he was your savior."

Carter had saved me once. I was walking home late at night and realized I was being followed into an alley. He happened to be there and scared the creep away.

I had begged for his help, and he put his arm around me, pretending to be my boyfriend, forcing the stalker to back off.

He probably didn't even remember it, but it was seared into my brain. The moment I saw him on the cover of Forbes, I did everything in my power to get close to him.

Honestly, everything Id done for him over the years had more than repaid that debt.

But I kept acting like a brain-dead simp, constantly offering myself up to get hurt.

What a garbage plotline.

"That's ancient history," I said. "Right now, I want to chase Caleb. But he keeps thinking I'm trying to prank him."

"It's just the two of us here, you can drop the act. Haven't you tortured the poor guy enough since we were kids? You really want to play mind games and break his heart now? Honestly, you don't even need to try..."

She trailed off abruptly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why'd you stop?"

"He's been hopelessly devoted to you for years. If you really want to mess with him, find another way. Watching you obsess over another man has been pure torture for him. He's suffered enough."

So his feelings for me were blatantly obvious to everyone else, and I was the only idiot who hadn't noticed.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I couldn't even mention either of their names around you! One was your untouchable god, and the other was your mortal enemy. The second I brought Caleb up, you'd rant about how much you hated him. Years ago, just because you threw a tantrum and said you didn't want to see his face in your house, he instantly packed his bags, went to college overseas, and built his own empire. He only came back this time because he has domestic corporate mergers to handle."

Back then, the year after my mom passed away, sixteen-year-old Caleb and his mother moved into my family's estate.

I blamed my dad for my mom's death. I thought he didn't care about her enough, which drove her to swallow a bottle of pills. While she was dying in the ER, he was away on a business trip and didn't even make it back in time to say goodbye.

And yet, so shortly after, he brought home a new womanwho was supposedly his first love.

Because of that, I looked at Caleb with pure hatred.

Even though he and his mom constantly tolerated my awful behavior.

Once, when kids at my prep school mocked me for being motherless, Caleb actually threw punches for me. He told them I had a mom, and that his mother was mine too.

I looked at him with pure disgust and told him they didn't deserve to be my family.

He would always quietly trail behind me, making sure I got home safe.

But I kept relentlessly targeting him. I even went so far as to intentionally cut my own leg on a glass sculpture he made, just so I could frame him for it.

Looking at my bleeding leg, he asked me in a dazed voice, "Do you really hate seeing me that much?"

Back then, I was paranoid and obsessed with the idea that they were here to steal my father.

I glared at him with hateful eyes. "Yes. Im sick of your fake, hypocritical faces. You act like you care about me, but youre just trying to push me out of this family."

"I'll leave."

He immediately filed the paperwork for an overseas boarding school and never stepped foot in the house again.

It was only after he left the country that I ended up being stalked and saved by Carter.

I only found out the truth about my mom's death much later. It had nothing to do with my dad being distant. She just never loved him. She manipulated him into traveling constantly because she was planning to run away with her high school sweetheart. When her lover died in a car crash on his way to get her, she couldn't cope and took her own life.

My dad had kept her ugly secret hidden, quietly enduring my misplaced hatred all those years.

He and Caleb's mom had only reconnected by chance long after my mom's funeral.

"What does he even see in me? I've basically been the evil stepsister in his life story," I muttered.

"You'd have to ask him," Brooke said. "You want to chase him? Didn't you just get an offer for that celebrity dating reality show? The one you were going to turn down? Don't turn it down. Go on the show. And try to get him cast too. Let's see how long he can keep up the stoic act."