My Stepfather, my Ruin
"This... this is wrong," she stuttered, trying not to meet his eyes. "You're my stepfather. Let's forget it ever happened."
"How can I forget it happened, Nicole?" He questioned, gripping her chin. "When the image of you whimpering for more replays in my head every fucking night?"
When one night of desperation turns into Nicole ending up in bed with a nameless stranger, she's almost shocked to death when she moves in with her mother's new husband to see that the nameless stranger is her new stepfather.
Tristan Michelson has always been in control of his emotions, but he can barely control himself when he realizes the masked stripper is his new stepdaughter.
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Chapter 4
Nicole Harper
~•~
Two months later and I still hadn't found someone who could make me feel the things that stranger made me feel in bed.
I also had wet dreams about him even if I knew nothing of him.
Sometimes, I regretted going because his image was imprinted on my mind, but whenever I recalled the money I made from it, the regret dissolved quickly. I was able to pay my rent up until my graduation. I was able to focus on my studies without thinking of where to get the next meal from since my mother didn't even bother to keep her promise of sending me her next allowance.
I was more than happy when my lease was up. I'd applied for work in several companies in Boston, but didn't hear from any of them. When my mom suggested I go back home, I took it. My mom wasn't a very good person, but she knew a lot of people. If I couldn't find a job myself, I didn't mind using her connections.
Besides, I loved Chicago more than Boston and would prefer to settle down there.
"So we're never going to meet again?" Clara questioned as she leaned by my door, watching me close my suitcase.
I looked up at her. Clara and I had become a lot closer after that night. "Chicago is only a three or four-hour flight from here, Clara. We can visit whenever we want to."
She sighed. "True. I just hope the next person that moves in is as nice as you are."
"It's hard not to be nice to someone like you."
Clara snorted. "Tell that to them," she jerked her thumb backward, pointing at the couch where our other roommates were.
I grinned. "They're special."
Everything in my room fit into two huge suitcases. Clara helped me with one downstairs and offered to drive me to the airport. I couldn't say no to that.
At the airport, we hugged each other bye and I was on my way. I hadn't been back home in a year and a half because living with my mom was quite stressful. Thankfully, I'd be busy this summer-hopefully- and wouldn't have to deal with her every second of the day.
Speaking of my mother.
She was waiting for me as I exited the airport with a large unnecessary sign that had my name on it. My mother, as always, was in a pink matching set. Her blonde hair was tied in a deliberate messy bun. She rushed towards me when she saw me, hugging me with a squeal. I let go of my suitcases and hugged her back.
She pulled back to stare at me, frowning. "You're much thinner than you used to be."
Was I? I'd think I'd added more weight in the past two months.
"It's fine though," she dismissed me before I could respond. She took one of the suitcases and hooked her arm through mine. "We're rich now, so I'll feed you whatever you want." She paused. "Well, the housekeeper will, but his fridge is always stocked."
I stopped walking, making her halt as well. "What? We're living with your new husband?"
"Of course, silly." She chuckled. "Do you expect me to live in a different house?"
"No, I don't expect you to do that, but I can live alone at home."
"What home? I sold our house already."
My jaw dropped. It wasn't the first time I was living with my mom and her husband, but that didn't mean I wanted to go through that again. She argued with them all the time and asked for a divorce whenever things didn't go her way. If she'd told me she sold our place, I would have found a way to renew my lease. "You didn't think that maybe I'd want to live there?"
"Why would you live there when you have a better option?" She sounded genuinely confused.
I sighed and resumed walking. There was no use reasoning with her. She saw everything her way. I didn't know anything about her new husband; not his name, nor his face, nor even what he did for work. She wanted me to live with a literal stranger?
"Don't worry about it, Nikky. He's barely at home so you won't run into him all the time. I only told him to stay home today so I can introduce you. I..."
I stopped listening as she continued speaking. It wasn't ideal to live with her husband, but I had no choice at the moment. I needed to find a job, then an apartment. I also wanted to meet this supposed billionaire. I could only hope it wasn't a glorified drug dealer since my mom had very weird tastes in men.
We walked over to her car. It was just as pink as her clothes. I used to like pink when I was younger until my mom abused the color. "Is it pretty?" She questioned, pointing at the car.
I nodded noncommittally and waited for her to open the boot so I could put my luggage in.
During the ride to her new home, she talked about how perfect her new man was. Perfect being him giving her money whenever she asked without asking why she needed it.
She also called about where and how she met him, but I zoned out during most of the conversation. I only recalled her saying that it was good to be in places where rich men frequented.
From her words, it was already obvious she didn't like the man. She only wanted his money. I felt bad for the poor man who had to marry her. She was going to drain him and leave him when he had nothing. That was usually what she did. I wasn't sure if these men didn't care enough to know her past or if they were just stupid enough to think they were the exception.
The house looked like every other building on the block, but it was fenced and well, expensive. I guess he did have money.
"Tristan!" My mom yelled as we exited the car. "Tristan! Nicole is here!"
I shook my head slightly, but rolled my luggage behind me as I headed to the door.
"Tris-" my mom's yelling was cut short when the door finally opened.
My breath caught in my throat when a very familiar man stepped out of the house. Was this the husband?
My mom walked over to him with a big grin. "Tristan, this is Nicole, my daughter. Nikky, this is Tristan, your stepfather."
I blinked. That was my stepfather?
The same man who had fucked me two months ago that I couldn't seem to forget was my new stepfather???
Was this a joke?
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8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
9.2
For three years, Rachel lived in a marriage that almost no one knew existed.
To the outside world, Captain Jared Holland-the cold and powerful second son of the influential Holland family-was single.
Only a handful of people knew the truth: Rachel was his legal wife. Their marriage had begun because of a mistake and was bound by a prenuptial agreement that promised it would end quietly after three years.
And in Jared's heart, there had always been someone else-Olivia, his foster sister and first love.
When Rachel returns from a grueling flight and sees a video of Jared desperately carrying Olivia to the hospital, the last illusion she held onto finally shatters. That same night, she signs the divorce papers and walks away with nothing but a suitcase and her dignity.
But when the time comes to finalize the divorce, Jared refuses to sign-always finding excuses to delay it.
The woman he once ignored is now determined to leave.
And the man who never valued her is suddenly unwilling to let her go.
Rachel looked at the man in front of her and frowned: "Jared what are you playing? Sign the divorce papers."
Jared smiled, "Darling, I am sorry, I was wrong. Please, let's not get divorce."
9.0
Colette stepped out of the federal prison, finally breathing the air of freedom after two agonizing years.
But instead of a bus home, a black armored SUV blocked her path. Ferris Vance's men kidnapped her right at the gates. He forced her to sign a marriage certificate, threatening to completely destroy her father's legacy if she refused.
The nightmare had only just begun. She soon learned her father had been driven to suicide anyway. Dragged into the Vance estate, Colette was beaten bloody by the family of Ellie, the girl she supposedly wronged. Ferris paraded her in a pure white gown for the cameras, playing the fiercely devoted husband. But the second the lenses turned away, he forced her into a coarse maid's uniform, making her scrub the freezing marble floors on her hands and knees.
"Your life isn't even worth the dirt on my shoes."
Ferris whispered those words as he threw his muddy boots at her bruised face. She was nothing but a piece of bleeding bait, a prop meant to lure his missing lover out of hiding. She was tortured and humiliated for a crime she had absolutely nothing to do with. The sheer injustice of paying the price for another woman's disappearance tore her soul apart.
When he cornered her in the bathroom, the last thread of Colette's sanity snapped. She hurled a bucket of filthy water right into his face, broke out of his grip, and threw herself out a window into a freezing storm. This time, she chose to escape, even if it meant death.
7.6
I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history.
But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me.
He swam past me.
He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water.
When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl.
"You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home."
Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her.
I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife."
He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room.
I was packing his ring into a cardboard box.
I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead.
By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.
8.3
On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.
9.3
After eight years in captivity, I was finally rescued. I thought it was the beginning of a new life with my mother.
But she didn't even look at me. She ran into the arms of a handsome stranger, her real husband, and I was treated like a dirty secret from her past.
They called me a contamination, a reminder of their trauma. My new stepsister set their Doberman on me, and as the dog's teeth sank into my arm, I looked up and saw my mother watching from the window.
She met my eyes for a second, then slowly closed the curtains.
In that moment, the last bit of hope I had died. The shallow bond of family was completely gone, and I finally gave up.
But they made one mistake. The family patriarch, suspicious after a car accident, ordered a secret DNA test.
The results came back on the day of my stepsister's birthday party, revealing a truth that would burn their perfect world to the ground.