Chapter 1
The lights flickered. Malcolm’s wedding was just around the corner, and alongside the invitation, he couldn’t resist teasing his friend, Chen Everhart, about his high standards. At twenty-eight, with no lady friend by his side, did he need help with dating advice? When the message arrived, Chen Everhart was standing by the bed, his sister Dorian Brightwood grasping his tie, pulling him in for a kiss. His hand found its way to her waist as he loosened the chain around her neck, eager to strip away her clothing. Dorian would often act coy, though it was she who initiated things, wrapping her arms around his neck, grinding herself against him, making him hard. But when it came to the actual deed, she would shy away. The table wasn’t suitable; the sofa wouldn’t do either. It had to be the bed—doors locked tight, curtains drawn, leaving just a single nightlight glowing. She stripped down first, and as Chen Everhart began unbuttoning his shirt, he caught a glimpse of her covering her eyes, her fingers parting just enough to peek at him from between them. With a casual motion, he grasped her ankle, pulling her toward him. She lost her balance, her hands flailing against the bed for support, her eyes wide with surprise. He held her hand against his belt, instructing, “Do it yourself.” As the metal clasp clicked open, Dorian Brightwood’s cheeks flushed crimson. When she witnessed his arousal spring forth, she instinctively recoiled. Chen Everhart nonchalantly held her ankle, drawing her back close. Kneeling between her legs, he angled his body, preparing to enter her. The very next day after they confirmed their relationship, he made an appointment for a vasectomy—birth control pills could be harmful, and condoms were never truly reliable. He refused to place his little sister in any uncontrollable danger, taking it upon himself to bear the burden. Bypassing the need for a condom, Dorian was already completely wet from his previous touches. His member rubbed against her a few times, eliciting a series of soft, continuous gasps from her. And then he slid inside her, her warm, inviting flesh enveloped him entirely. As the tip of him stretched her, her walls tightened around him, sucking him in, while a good portion of him remained outside, prompting Dorian to gasp out intermittently as she clung to his neck, “Brother—” Her tongue peeked out shyly as her chest heaved, her delicate frame pressing against him. The bright pink of her nipples brushed against his chest, and she pressed herself tightly against him, kissing his lips tenderly. Chen Everhart shifted one hand to the back of her head, taking things slowly as he felt how snug she was, wanting her to have time to adjust. So he moved little by little, deliberately caressing her. His fingers traveled across her lips, her breasts, her lower abdomen, and slid around her sensitive sides and onto her plush bottom. Finally, they found their way to her tiny, aching clitoris, gently rubbing the sensitive bud. His fingers were calloused from playing the cello, and as he stroked her, she became breathless, tilting her neck back with a moan that filled the room. Her vision blurred, her calves trembling uncontrollably as pleasure flooded her senses, wetness spilling over to dampen half the sheets. As the moisture pooled at the base of her thighs, it streamed down her rounded backside and seeped into the fabric of the bed, sending shivers down her spine.
Chapter 2
Dorian Brightwood felt waves of mortification wash over her as she clamped her hand over her eyes, trying to hide her shame. Her cheeks burned from ear to temple, and her lips turned pale from biting down too hard. Just when it seemed she couldn't bear more, Cecilia Everhart seized the moment, ruthlessly thrusting herself deep inside Dorian. The force of the impact made Dorian’s lower abdomen bulge, and waves of passion caused her chest to heave uncontrollably. Dorian couldn’t hold back any longer; her lips parted slightly as soft whimpers and breaths escaped. Her voice was frail and trembling, as she called out, “Brother…” Cecilia pressed her fingers against Dorian’s lips, prying open her clenched teeth, forcing her to let the sound out. With her other hand, she secured Dorian’s slender wrist, pulling her arms above her head and holding her wrists together. Dorian was laid bare before Cecilia, her arms over her head, her face unshielded, neck arched back, exposing her pale breasts, erect nipples, toned stomach, and the stretched area between her thighs. Her eyes were wide open, a mixture of bewilderment and delight shimmering within them under the dim lamplight, “Brother…” Her voice quivered, blending with her gasps. Dorian’s body was fragile from birth; her skin was fair, her voice light and fine. Though she was of average height, her frame was small, making her seem as delicate as a flower that might break at any moment. Yet, every time Cecilia feared she was pushing Dorian too far, Dorian would wrap her legs around Cecilia’s waist, pulling her back in. With her head tilted back, Dorian let out a muffled groan, kissing Cecilia, refusing to let her go, “Brother, I can’t bear to let you go…” Dorian whimpered, rubbing her cheek against Cecilia, her face glistening with tears. She then bent down to bite Cecilia’s Adam’s apple gently, like a teething puppy, gnawing slowly, whispering, “Brother, come back soon, brother…” Cecilia brushed away Dorian’s tears from the corner of her eyes, “I’ll be back once I’m done.” She sighed helplessly, breaking into a soft smile, “I asked you to come with me, but you wouldn’t.” Dorian pouted, as if she wanted to say something, but Cecilia couldn’t catch it. She leaned in closer to hear it again but was abruptly jolted awake from the dream. The nightlight in the Grand Suite still cast a dim glow. The room was orderly and cold, the laptop on the desk had gone into standby mode, and dawn's light was just beginning to break. This was Cecilia’s last night on her business trip, and not for the first time, she had dreamt of Dorian Brightwood. Feeling a twinge of helplessness, she rubbed her temples, reached for her phone, and opened her pinned conversation on WeChat. Their chat history was paused at Cecilia’s long-winded reminders, cautioning Dorian to stay safe if she went out at night and to let her know when she got home. However, Dorian hadn’t replied yet. It was four in the morning. Cecilia was set to return home today, and Dorian wasn’t the type to stay out all night. She must have returned home too exhausted and gone straight to bed, too tired even to send a message. Their front door was equipped with a doorbell camera, viewable remotely from Cecilia’s phone. Furrowing her brows, Cecilia opened the app but only found footage of Dorian leaving. With a frown, she dialed Dorian Brightwood’s number.
Chapter 3
"Hey, Mr. Everhart," came a sleepy voice through the headphones. "I'm sorry to disturb your rest," Chen Everhart replied gently, furrowing his brow. He disliked interrupting his staff's downtime, especially at this early hour. It was just six in the morning, a time when he’d never before dialed someone this early. "I can't reach Dorian Brightwood. She doesn't seem to have returned home. Could you please go and check on her?" After a brief pause, he added, "When work hours start, I'll inform Everhart Enterprises that you won’t need to come in today. It won’t affect your attendance, and you’ll still be paid for the whole day as overtime. Of course, if you don’t mind..." On the other end, rustling sounds indicated that the caller was quickly gathering their things. "I don’t mind. Just send me the address and contact details, and I'll head over ASAP." Chen Everhart thanked her and, once he hung up, sent the necessary information before making his way to the departure gate. He was originally scheduled to fly out in the afternoon and had planned to attend a friend's wedding, but worry gnawed at him, prompting him to change to the earliest flight. He hurriedly made his way from the hotel to the airport. Long-haul flights had always drained his energy, and after a restless night, he felt particularly exhausted, his mind racing with concern for his younger sister. Disembarking, he rubbed his temples and checked his phone, anxiously hoping for any news from Dorian. However, nothing from her yet. The first notifications were missed calls from Gideon Rivers, the employee he'd tasked with looking after Dorian. They had gotten along well when Dorian interned at Everhart Enterprises last summer. Unease settled in his gut as he returned the call. After several rings, Gideon's voice greeted him. "Mr. Everhart, you’ve landed." "Yes, I’m here now. Did you find Dorian Brightwood?" "I did, but there’s been a situation—Dorian was in a car accident on her way home yesterday. Her phone got smashed, and she was taken to the hospital. That’s why you haven’t heard from her." His grip on the phone tightened, as if it could absorb some of the shock. A heavy weight pressed against his chest, nearly making it hard to breathe. "Where is she now? Is she okay? Which hospital? Send me the address; I'll head there immediately." "Hold on, hold on. Don't panic. She’s all right, it’s just that..." Gideon hesitated briefly. "I’ll send you the address. Let the doctors fill you in when you get here." The smell of antiseptic filled the air as Chen Everhart made his way through the crowded hospital corridors. Two elevators were lined with people waiting, so he turned and took the fire escape, climbing up the stairs to the twelfth floor and arriving at the Healing Chamber where Dorian was located. Inside, she sat on the bed, a drip connected to her arm. Her face lit up with joy when she spotted him. "Brother!" A rush of relief cascaded over him. "I’m so glad you’re okay," he breathed out. But her next question pricked at that relief like a needle. "Where are Mom and Dad? Aren’t they coming to see me? Are they busy with meetings again, or are they fighting?" The momentary comfort evaporated as concern replaced it. Chen Everhart stood frozen, processing her words. Gideon, who had been silently watching from the side, stepped forward to greet him. "Hey, Mr. Everhart. Take a seat. I’ll go get Dr. Malcolm for you." In his weariness, Chen nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. You handled this well. Now, go rest." Gideon nodded and stepped out of the Healing Chamber, leaving Chen and Dorian to themselves.
Chapter 4
Dorian Brightwood was still smiling as she looked at him, carefree. After finishing her conversation with someone, she waved her hand at him, “What’s up, bro? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is it because Mom and Dad can’t come? It’s not like they wanted to see me anyway—it's always just you and me.” As she spoke, Dorian reached out and playfully shook him by the wrist. At that moment, Dr. Malcolm arrived outside the room, knocking lightly on the door. Cecilia Everhart turned to take a quick glance at him before looking back at Dorian. “I’m going to step outside with Dr. Malcolm for a moment to discuss how you’re doing and how long you might need to stay here.” Dorian nodded, letting go of his wrist as she waved him off with a smile. Cecilia opened the door, greeting Dr. Malcolm. “Hi, I’m the patient’s family member. How is she doing?” The doctor appeared to be young, about the same age as Cecilia, sporting clean, polished glasses and a crisp white coat. He was tall and fair, with sharp features. “Hello. I’m Dr. Malcolm, the patient’s therapist. My supervisor had surgery this morning, so she couldn’t come; I’m here to fill you in on the situation.” Dr. Malcolm didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. He got straight to the point about Dorian’s condition. “We’ve done a CT scan and an MRI, and they show everything is normal—no bleeding, no tissue damage. However, during the routine cognitive assessment, it became apparent that there are some discrepancies in her cognition…” He pulled out a cognitive assessment sheet from Dorian’s medical file, which Cecilia recognized instantly—it bore Dorian’s handwriting. Dr. Malcolm pointed at one of the columns with his pen, asking, “What’s today’s date?” Cecilia felt her heart drop as she looked at the date Dorian had written down. It wasn’t today. It was five years ago—the day their parents died in a car accident. “Our assessment suggests she believes it’s five years ago,” Dr. Malcolm continued. He paused briefly, gauging Cecilia’s reaction. “We’d like to know more about her medical history over the past few years. Can you tell me about your relationship with her? Are you family or something else?” Family or something else. Once, they were just family—siblings bound by blood—then they became closer than siblings. But now? What did they even count as now? “… I’m family. I’m her brother,” Cecilia managed to say, her voice slightly hoarse. “She’s always had health issues since she was young, but nothing severe—until that date she wrote… That was the day our parents passed away.” “I’m sorry,” Dr. Malcolm said, his expression shifting as he pressed down on his pen. “Her case is quite delicate, and we’re not entirely clear on the specifics of her condition. We’re apprehensive that disclosing the exact date might trigger a reaction, which is why we haven’t mentioned it yet. This morning, we consulted with the psychiatry department; they will discuss these matters with you in detail later.” He gestured towards the office door. “My office is right there; if you have any questions or need anything, don’t hesitate to ring the bell or come find us.” Cecilia felt lost for words and simply nodded her thanks. As she moved between departments throughout the day, the conclusion became clear to her: Dorian was haunted by the memories of their parents' death, and the reappearance of similar situations had triggered a stress response, causing her to regress in time to when their parents were still alive and they were just siblings—innocent and untouched by tragedy.
Chapter 5
Dorian Brightwood's condition remained precarious, and the full truth had yet to reach her. Cecilia Everhart had managed to soothe her into sleep and sat outside The Healing Chamber, engaged in a call with a friend. He was eager to return today and missed the wedding celebration of The Intruder, feeling the need to apologize for his absence. “Yeah, she’s okay now, just resting,” he acknowledged, glancing into The Healing Chamber. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there to congratulate you all. Next time we meet, I’ll make sure to give you a proper celebration.” The couple was still riding high on love, likely in the midst of a dinner filled with laughter and joy. Each cheer and well-wish from the other end of the line resonated with him, poised in stark contrast to the sullen reality he faced. After checking in on Dorian's well-being and offering a few comforting words to Cecilia, he casually remarked, “You’re really good to Dorian. Once she finds a boyfriend, she might not have a brother as caring as you.” Cecilia chuckled as she ended the call, yet kept her ear pressed to her phone, lingering in the moment. The happiness shared about the marriage felt strikingly alien to him—nobody would ever offer blessings for a pair like them. He peered through the glass of The Healing Chamber, taking in the sight of Dorian, soundly asleep, drugged into an unwitting slumber. She was the best little sister in the world, deserving of cheers and blessings—not trapped in a shadowy corner, forever entwined with her brother in ways that turned sour. He had never considered what their future should look like, or rather didn’t dare to confront the complexities of their relationship, much like how he never anticipated things spiraling into such chaos. They were blood siblings—he was her brother always at the tip of her tongue since childhood, and she was the envy of his friends. Their introductions were often a roundabout way of explaining their distinct last names; she took on their father's surname while he took on their mother's, leading to the unusual contrast that required a lengthy explanation: “We are siblings, just that my sister is a Brightwood, and I’m an Everhart, so one is Dorian and the other is Cecilia.” He’d repeated their relationship a thousand times, yet it had slid off the rails, plummeting into darkness. —They were five years apart, with their entanglement beginning three years ago. It all started two years after their parents’ car accident when Dorian had just turned twenty. During that time, he noticed she had grown withdrawn, trapped in a web of her hidden anxieties. So, he took a day off, hoping to have a heart-to-heart with her, fulfilling his role as the older brother, guiding her through whatever turmoil she may face. He rambled on about the inevitable confusion that came with growing up and how important it was to tell your brother if anyone bullied her, echoing their late father's advice. Dorian, leaning against the table and playing with a marble, looked up at him when he finished. Her face was pale, but she offered a faint smile. “Brother, the thing is, I think I’m in love with you.” The sound of the marble bouncing to the floor echoed sharply, hitting the ground and his heart with a sickening thud. He took a long time coming to terms with this revelation. In the period following their parents' deaths, Dorian had been plagued by nightmares, prompting them to move their rooms closer together. This way, Cecilia could respond whenever she heard noises from Dorian’s quarters. The door was never locked; she could always come to him for help if she felt troubled. Dorian never locked her door either, allowing him to come in freely. Initially, this arrangement was meant to ensure he could check in whenever needed, but after that day, the dynamics began to shift.
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