My mother wanted me to give James to my stepsister. When she hugged him in a bathrobe, he shattered her arm, and I knew this would happen. My stepsister was attracted to my husband, but he was a crazy obsessive lover. When she put on a bathrobe and hugged him from behind, he immediately shattered her arm.

“Do you realize how much effort I put into winning Olivia over? If you dare to approach me again, it won’t be simply a broken arm.” My sister was terrified and scrambled away on her hands and knees.

Later, when I took James to meet my parents, my stepsister Rachel kept gazing at him. I knew she’d already fallen for my lover. This girl has stolen from me since she was a child.

During one family supper, my mother’s side conducted a comprehensive investigation into James’ past. That day, I was on my period and felt unwell. James discreetly walked into the kitchen to prepare me some brown sugar water.

My mother saw the opportunity and said, “Olivia, your boyfriend is quite excellent, but he doesn’t really match you. How about this? Give James to your sister. She’s lively and beautiful. They’d look much better together than you and him.”

I laughed aloud. She had the guts to say such a thing.

Rachel was born to my mother and her later husband. She resembled her father—puffy eyes, drooping eyelids, and a flat nose. At 22, she began plastic surgery. She looked better today, but the artificial traces were visible.

My mother became irritated when she saw my lack of response.

“You’re a stubborn girl. You are the older sister. Can’t you be more thoughtful and gift your husband to your sister? What a waste of time raising you over the years. You are such an ungrateful brat.”

My mother’s audacity astonished me. After my parents divorced, my father provided me monthly child support, but my mother spent almost none of it on me. I never owned a new dress or toy. Neighbors pitted me against one another, giving me their children’s outdated clothes and secondhand toys. Even my stepfather’s mother covertly used her savings to assist me.

By 9, I was already doing laundry and cooking. Later, I worked summer jobs to help pay for school supplies and books. Everything I had accomplished was through my own efforts.

But my mother viewed Rachel and me quite differently. She spoiled Rachel rotten. My mother would help Rachel get anything she wanted from me. Thinking about it, it wasn’t surprising that she would say such absurd things.

Just then, James reappeared with the brown sugar water. My mother and Rachel instantly hushed up.

“The water is still hot. Let me feed you,” James said, scooping some up and softly blowing on it before presenting it to my lips.

I felt humiliated. “There are individuals present. I can do it myself.”

However, his eyes were bold.

“I’m feeding my wife brown sugar water. Who dares to voice an opinion?”

Rachel forced a smile. “How could we? We’re thrilled for sister after seeing how nice you are to her. I genuinely envy her. Her husband individually administers medication for her stomach ailment. Outsiders might assume her hands are broken.”

She was calling me dramatic. Unfortunately for her, James didn’t think like most people.

He slapped the bowl on the sofa table, his demeanor icy.

“Are you cursing Olivia?”

Rachel froze as if a dangerous serpent had locked eyes with her. She burst into tears.

“That’s not what I intended. I was just complimenting you for being so good to her.”

James snorted. “You had better not be.”

Shaken, she remained silent for a while.

But when she observed his compassionate care for me, her envy grew. She cooed at her brother-in-law, “I am also on my menstruation. Could you also make me a cup of brown sugar water?”

I had shivers all over from her terribly sweet voice.

James laughed coldly. “Are your fingers or toes broken? Cannot you make it yourself?”

Rachel pouted. “But haven’t you made it for my sister?”

“Olivia is my wife. What are you?” His voice was harsh. “Do you truly believe you’re worthy?”

Rachel, humiliated, covered her mouth and fled to her room.

I sipped the drink James offered me, enjoying both his company and the entertainment. He was a difficult person for Rachel to manipulate.

Rachel eventually calmed down and returned. She cleared her throat resentfully as she noticed I was the only one in the living room.

“Olivia, don’t get too cocky. I stole your design work once, and I can steal your husband now.”

“Oh, you can try,” I responded carelessly. However, my mood was not peaceful.

Back in freshman year, I wanted to study architecture abroad. I drew numerous drawings to submit to a prestigious international design school. Rachel stole them and submitted them in her name. She got into my ideal school, but I stayed behind.

But Rachel lacked actual talent. Without my designs, she was nothing. She delayed graduating for 3 years before narrowly making it. It was my life’s worst regret.

If Rachel’s grandmother hadn’t been so nice to me, I wouldn’t want to see the Harrisons again. But she now resided with her younger son, therefore she was not present.

“What exactly are you talking about?” James’s voice suddenly appeared behind me.

Rachel jumped but then gave a beautiful smile.

“Brother-in-law, I just graduated and haven’t found work yet. Could I intern at your design firm?”

James took a long look at her before replying bluntly, “Of course.”

“Not a problem,” she squealed. “You’re so good, brother-in-law. I love you.”

James’s smile was cold. “It’s what I should do.”

But James already knew how Rachel had sabotaged me years ago. Disaster was waiting for her.

The next day, Rachel dressed up like a peacock and arrived at work. When James and I walked in, we noticed her conversing with new co-workers.

“This company is so hard to get into,” she boasted. “Fortunately, I have a special relationship with James.”

The co-workers perked up. “Special? How special?”

She grinned dramatically. “Oh, stop asking. James appreciates his privacy and does not want anyone to know about our relationship.”

She managed to say little while insinuating everything, leading them to believe James was her boyfriend.

Her co-workers exchanged glances, but their emotions changed to disdain.

Because James, the obsessive lover, made our relationship public on the first day I started at the workplace. James’s words hung in the air like the sound of a closed door—final and brutal.

Rachel paled as she attempted a grin to hide her shame in front of her new co-workers.

I kept a cool expression on my face as I watched her. She believed she had successfully deceived others with her fake charm, but she underestimated James. He was more than just an obsessive lover. He was a strategist who never forgot and never forgave.

I’d noticed it in his eyes the first time we met. The same cult intensity that horrified others was exactly what pulled me in. He believed that loyalty was sacred and betrayal was penalized.

Rachel was about to discover exactly how much disloyalty might cost.

That evening, James and I returned home from work. He hung his jacket neatly on the hook and came to sit next to me on the couch. His fingers brushed over mine with casual warmth, but the keen gleam in his eyes revealed his intentions.

“Olivia, do you remember what design she took from you?” His tone was calm, but it had an underlying weight that caused me to straighten in my seat.

I nodded. “I’ll never forget. That was my fantasy, James. She grabbed everything I worked for and destroyed it all in one move.”

His jaw tightened and he brought my palm to his lips, kissing it as if to cement a promise.

“She will pay for it slowly and thoroughly. I will make sure she feels the sting of every missed opportunity.”

The following few days at the office were like a game of chess. Rachel, clad in nice clothes and perfume that could not conceal her uncertainty, strutted around as if she belonged. She smiled warmly at everyone, dropping James’s name in casual discussions to suggest a connection that did not exist.

The more she tried, the more isolated she felt. James didn’t even glance at her but gave her cold, clinical orders. Colleagues began murmuring, and some mocked her behind her back.

I watched her confidence dwindle piece by piece.

One morning, James summoned Rachel to his office. I stood outside the glass wall, pretending to rummage through documents, but my ears strained to hear.

His voice was quiet, but it conveyed terrifying power.

“Rachel, do you understand what we are doing here?”

There was a delay before her overly charming reply. “Of course, my brother-in-law. I also study design. Remember, I can handle it.”

James reclined back in his chair, a small smile curling his lips, but never reaching his eyes.

“Good. Then I will assign you a project. Prove yourself.”

Rachel emerged into the office, grinning, clutching a hefty folder. She walked straight past me without saying anything, but her eyes were filled with triumph, as if she had finally won something.

I knew James better than she did.

That project was not a gift.
It was a trap.