Claimed And Marked By Her Stepbrother Mates Chapter 575-It Had Always Been Me

Helanie:

I kept staring at his face, trying to understand why his response was to laugh out loud. I shook my head in disbelief.

"So you take pride in making a fool out of ?" The mont my voice turned serious and a small hiccup escaped my lips, his smile disappeared.

"Listen—I didn’t sleep with her," he said in a much more serious tone this ti. But I placed my hand on his chest to push him away, just to show how annoyed I was with him. The mont I did that, my hand touched his bare skin, my fingers fitting perfectly over his tattoo, and for a second, I couldn’t focus on anything else.

Like so weirdo, I had my hand on his chest, staring at the way he breathed. His phone ringing was what made pull my hand back.

I watched him check the screen and then sneak a quick glance at . I knew right then that whoever was calling him was soone he was too scared to answer in front of .

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Jessica," he replied, and I nodded, smiling faintly, trying to look understanding. The timing was always just right—like sothing was always there to stop from making a mistake.

"Helanie, I didn’t sleep with her. I stayed in her room, sitting in a chair. That’s all," he said before answering the call and getting off the bed.

He was talking to her, pacing around nervously, clearly worried. Maybe sothing bad had happened.

As soon as he hung up, he started looking through his closet for a shirt and pants.

"Are you going sowhere?" I asked, watching him dress in a hurry.

"Yeah—Jessica’s in trouble," he replied quickly, but stopped buttoning his shirt when he saw staring at him without blinking.

"No! I didn’t sleep with her. You need to let that go," he repeated, picking up his shoes. He put them on quickly, stood up, adjusted his pants, then walked over and grabbed my hand.

"Throw on so pants and a shirt—we’re running late," he said, guiding toward the closet and ordering gently.

"Where am I going?" I asked.

"Helanie, wherever I’m going. Why would you go anywhere else?" He looked tired and impatient as he grabbed a shirt—his own, in a rush.

"No, it’s okay," I said, picking out my own shirt, not wanting to make things ssier for Jessica. As I got dressed, I waited for Norman to answer.

"Why are you taking with you?" Once ready, I found my hand in his again as he pulled out of the room. I repeated the question.

"I don’t want to be alone with Jessica just for you to co back and accuse of things. I don’t like drama, Helanie. So it’s better if you’re there whenever I’m around her. That way, we can avoid unnecessary rumors or soone trying to twist things and lie to you," he said as he dragged along with him.

Once we were in his car, he told that the pack mbers were attacking Jessica and her father because of Darius’s mistakes.

That was scary, but also upsetting. Once again, a woman had to pay for the cris of a man.

We arrived at her place and found it completely trashed. Norman asked to go inside and get Jessica while he spoke to her father. He told him that so pack mbers wanted the house and were angry that they had let Darius stay there until he died.

It was a ss. Jessica was hysterical when I found her. She cried, hugging for an hour before I grabbed her bags and made her leave the room with .

"Take her to your place. By the ti she cos back, things will be settled. She’ll be Helanie’s royal beta, so they’ll have to listen," her father said, barely even looking at her.

It wasn’t fair. I didn’t respond to her father—I didn’t like that man. There didn’t seem to be any reason to believe he would’ve let Darius face any punishnt.

Once we were in the car, I sat in the backseat with Jessica. She was feeling much better and had even stopped crying.

"Jessica, did you pick up my phone the other day?" Our attention turned to Norman, who adjusted the rearview mirror so he could look straight at .

"Yeah, I’m so sorry—I forgot to tell you," she replied, her head leaning back, dried tears still on her cheeks.

"Oh. Where was I?" he asked, acting like he was confused about why she had answered his phone.

"You were in the chair. I thought you were sleeping. Your phone was on silent, but the light kept blinking," she answered, and suddenly I felt much better.

"Okay," Norman said, raising both eyebrows at in the mirror. I looked away, sitting beside Jessica, feeling like the attention from her fiancé made look like so kind of flirt. I was sure of it.

"He cares for you," I started to say, and Norman frowned.

"He does?" A smile spread across Jessica’s face as I nodded.

"If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have tattooed your handprint and bite mark on his body." The mont I said that, Norman almost crashed into oncoming traffic.

After we settled back into our seats, Jessica spoke again.

"Oh, that’s not my handprint. He told it was an idea he got from a magazine. The bite mark looks so real, but praise the tattoo artist—it wasn’t mine either. Where did you see the tattoos?" After giving the answer I wanted, she followed it up with a question.

Norman was now clearly restless in his seat.

"The other day, when he was training ," I replied, leaning back. Why did he lie?

And if it wasn’t her handprint or bite mark, it had to be mine. I was the only one who bit him in that exact spot. But when did I put my hand on his chest?