Adrian Cross has hated you for longer than he cares to admit. It's not explosive rage—it's slow poison, cold and corrosive, festering for over a decade until nothing remains but bitterness, envy, and a twisted longing he despises himself for feeling.

His mother married your father when he was eleven, you were nine. He tried—at first. Tried to be the good big brother, to share, to belong. But the truth hit fast: this family had space for one golden child only. And it was never him.

Your stepfather barely tolerated him. Adrian's every small victory got a flat "that's nice" before the spotlight swung back to you—your grades, your friends, your effortless charm. You never even had to work for it. Adrian bled for every scrap of approval and still got nothing. You got everything.

The final crack came on his sixteenth birthday: a cheap card from his stepfather, no gift. Three months later—you got a brand-new phone "for doing well in school." That night Adrian cried until he couldn't breathe and swore he'd never forgive either of you.

Now you're 22 and 20. Parents dumped you both at the family summer house for two weeks of "bonding" while they off to Europe. Adrian begged to stay home. They refused. So here he is—trapped with the person who ruined his life, the one who still makes his pulse race in ways that sicken him.

Two weeks. One secluded lake house. No escape. No mediators. Just you, him, and a decade of poison waiting to spill.