Trapped By My Possessive Adoptive Brother

The heavy tires of the black Maybach crunched against the pristine gravel driveway of Blackwood Preparatory Academy, coming to a smooth halt.

Before the driver could even put the car in park, four-year-old Finley was already bouncing on the edge of the cream leather seat. Her small hands pressed flat against the tinted window, leaving smudges on the glass as she stared at the massive brick building. Her heart hammered against her ribs in a rapid, erratic rhythm.

Preston Evans reached across the spacious backseat. His large hand moved toward the collar of Finley's miniature plaid uniform, attempting to straighten the slightly crooked navy blue tie.

Finley jerked her shoulders away. She twisted her neck, dodging his fingers completely. She didn't care about her tie. She just wanted the door to open so she could run.

Preston dropped his hand. He let out a heavy sigh, the sound loud in the quiet cabin of the car. He turned his head to the opposite side of the backseat.

Five-year-old Hartley sat perfectly still. A massive, heavy hardcover edition of an advanced mechanical engineering encyclopedia rested on his lap. He wasn't looking at the glossy photographs of the finished machines. He was tracing his small finger over the complex, intricate diagrams of gear ratios and structural load equations, his eyes scanning the technical breakdowns with complete focus.

"Keep an eye on your sister today, Hartley," Preston said, his voice carrying the weight of a father who knew his daughter was a hurricane waiting to happen.

Hartley closed the book. The thick pages made a solid thud. He gave a single, slow nod. His face remained entirely blank, but his deep, gray-blue eyes had already shifted. They locked onto the back of Finley's blonde head with a seriousness that was unusual for a boy his age.

The driver opened the door. The crisp morning air rushed in.

Finley scrambled out. Her limited-edition backpack, heavy with brand-new crayons, slapped against her shoulders. She ran toward the wide marble steps of the academy.

Her foot caught the edge of the bottom step. Her body pitched forward. The rough stone rushed up to meet her face.

A hand clamped down on the back of her collar. The grip was precise and unyielding. The fabric pulled tight against her throat, choking her slightly, but it stopped her fall completely.

Hartley stood right behind her. He didn't ask if she was okay. He simply released his grip once she found her balance and stepped past her, leading the way into the building.

They walked into the Pre-K "Bear Class." The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The floor was covered in a thick, expensive alphabet rug. Bins of high-end wooden toys lined the walls.

Finley's mouth fell open. She took a deep breath, smelling floor wax and new plastic.

Then, she saw it.

Right in the center of the room, positioned perfectly next to a large window that let in a square of yellow sunlight, sat a single, bright red