DANGEROUS CRAVINGS: SINFULLY TANGLED WITH MY STEPBROTHER

Melbourne, Australia, 10:00am.

EZRAN'S POV.

I had exactly three problems that morning.

One, my mother was getting married again, two, the black suit I was forced to wear made me look like a guest at a funeral, and three, this wedding was happening whether I liked it or not.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at my reflection like it belonged to someone else. Twenty-one years old final-year college student and future programmer, if life didn't take another turn before graduation. My jaw was clenched and my dark curls refusing to stay neat no matter how much I tried to brush them.

"Ezran," my mother called from outside the room, her voice careful. "We're running late."

Of course we were.

I exhaled slowly and grabbed my phone, staring at the news outlets.

POPULAR MODEL AND EX BEAUTY CONTEST QUEEN, AUBREY CAMERON, 42, REMARRIES BILLIONAIRE MOGUL AND TECH EXPERT, ROBERT BANKS, 58, IN A GRAND STYLE, 5 YEARS AFTER HAVING A SCANDALOUS DIVORCE WITH PRODUCER EX HUSBAND, EDWARDS WILLIAMSON.

My eyes moved down to the comments and I sighed. Everyone who remembered mom's messy divorce from my dad gave their unsolicited advice.

Shoving the phone into my pants pocket, I sighed again before stepping out. My mother, soon-to-be Aubrey Banks, stood in the hallway, glowing in white lace and expensive diamond jewelry. Forty-two years old and still painfully beautiful, she looked happier than I'd seen her in years.

That was the problem.

She deserved happiness. I knew that. After the messy divorce with dad, after five years of being alone and after rebuilding herself piece by piece.

But did that happiness really have to come as a fifty-eight year old billionaire who already had grown-up kids?

What if they don't accept her or they accuse her of being a golddigger?

"You okay?" she asked softly, searching my face when she noticed I was spacing out.

I nodded because arguing would change nothing. "I'm fine."

It was a lie we both pretended to believe.

The wedding venue was massive-glass walls, white roses, gold accents everywhere. Wealth screamed from every corner. This wasn't just a celebration, it was a show off of wealth.

I spotted the groom almost immediately.

Robert Banks, my soon-to-be stepfather.

Tall. Brown-haired with streaks of gray. Calm in the way men get when they've lived long enough in affluence and extravagance. He smiled when he saw my mother, took her hand like she was something precious and kissed her knuckles.

I quickly looked away.

Applause followed them down the aisle. I stayed seated, clapping out of obligation, not emotion. Somewhere between the vows and the music swelling, I felt something settle in my chest: finality.

This was real and permanent. I now belonged to a family that wasn't mine.

At the reception, introductions happened too quickly.

"These are my daughters," Robert said, gesturing toward two women standing beside him. "Charlyn and Jeanne."

Charlyn Banks was dressed in a black suede dress with diamond studs, her Louboutin