He blackmails her

Nick waits until the house quiets down that evening. Derwin leaves around eight—Nick watches from the upstairs window as the blacked-out Escalade rolls past the gate. Angela’s Range Rover stays parked; she’s home for the night.

He showers, changes into fresh clothes, and bides his time until he hears her bedroom door close and the faint sound of her shower running. Perfect. He transfers the four clearest photos to a hidden folder, then walks down the hall and knocks lightly on her door. No answer. He tries the handle and slips inside.

Angela’s room is softly lit by her bedside lamp. She’s still in the en-suite bathroom; he can hear the hair dryer. Nick sits casually on the edge of her perfectly made bed, phone in hand, and waits. Minutes later the dryer cuts off. Angela steps out in an oversized USC T-shirt and tiny sleep shorts, towel-drying her long blonde hair. She freezes when she sees him.

“Nick? What the hell—get out of my room.” He doesn’t move. Just holds up his phone and turns the screen toward her.

The first photo fills the display: her face in unmistakable ecstasy, Derwin’s head buried between her thighs. Angela’s towel drops from her hand. Color drains from her cheeks. “How… when did you—”

“Guest room. Door was open a crack. You really should be more careful when you’re bringing NFL dick home, sis.”

She lunges for the phone. Nick yanks it back easily, standing up so she has to look up at him.

“Delete them,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Please. If Mom finds out if anyone finds out”

“Relax,” he says, voice calm and cold. “I’m not showing Mom. Or Dad. Or the internet. Not yet.”

Angela wraps her arms around herself, eyes glassy. “What do you want?”

Nick lets the silence hang just long enough to watch her squirm. Then he smiles.

“I want introductions. You’re in that fancy sorority full of tens—the ones you’re always posting pictures with. The ‘college baddies’ you and your friends call yourselves. I want you to bring some of them around. Get them comfortable. Make it easy for me.”

Her eyes widen in horror. “You’re disgusting. They’re my friends.” “Exactly,” he says, stepping closer until she backs into her dresser. “Which means they trust you. You’ll invite a couple over for a pool day this weekend. Or a ‘family’ dinner. Whatever. You’ll hype me up—tell them your little brother’s grown up hot, whatever bullshit works. And when the time’s right, you’ll help make sure they’re… receptive.”

Angela’s shaking her head. “I won’t pimp out my friends to you.” Nick swipes to the next photo Derwin’s face clear as day, timestamped and holds it up again. “You will. Or these go to Mom’s phone first. Then Dad’s. Then maybe a few USC group chats. Think Derwin wants this getting out? Or the Chargers PR team?” Tears spill down her cheeks. She swipes at them angrily.

“You’re my brother,” she says, voice breaking. “How can you do this?” Nick shrugs. “Easy. You’ve always been the perfect one. Time to be useful for once.” He pockets the phone and heads for the door. Pauses with his hand on the knob.

“Start with that brunette you’re always with Madison? And the redhead with the ass. Plan something for New Year’s weekend. I’ll let you know details tomorrow.” He glances back. Angela’s standing frozen, arms wrapped tight around herself, silent tears tracking down her face.

“Night, sis,” he says softly, and pulls the door closed behind him.

In the hallway, Nick exhales, adrenaline buzzing. Phase one complete. Now he just has to wait for Angela to deliver.