His Princess

Holding back the tears that threaten to spill with my hands over my mouth, I watch as my fiancé moans loudly, thrusting into my stepsister in our bed. I had only been gone three days for a work trip, promising to come home as soon as possible to start planning our wedding. When I realized the client was easy to deal with, the contract was quickly signed in two days, and my seven-day-long trip was swiftly concluded, and I booked the next flight back to Toronto to surprise my fiancé, as I couldn’t wait to be home in bed with Jonathan.

“John!” My stepsister cries out his name, and that’s when reality snaps into place. No one would believe me if I said I caught them cheating. Helen would spin her web of lies and state that I was jealous and a callous woman. Biting my lip, I took out my phone, and once these bastards were in view, I pressed record.

“Helen, your pussy feels so good!” Jonathan moans out, head thrown back as he plows into Helen.

“I bet it’s better than that bitch Jessica!” Helen purrs smugly.

“I haven’t even fucked her yet. She is waiting for marriage, but I got needs, baby, needs that you are fulfilling.” Jonathan shoots back, leaning forward to sloppily kiss Helen who has her legs spread wide open for him to fuck her on our bed. That’s it, that’s all I needed to confirm that they were cheating.

Slamming the door open, I watch as these adulterous whores jolt up in shock, still filming their reaction.

“Je-Jessica!” Jonathan calls out in surprise, pulling out of Helen quickly and pushing off of her.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He tries to explain, but I scoff.

“What? So you’re not cheating on me with my stepsister?” I ask, my voice filled with sarcasm and hurt.

“That I didn’t just catch you balls deep inside her, fucking her like the whore she is?” I demand, voice shaking. Guilt flickers across his face, but then rage takes over, and for a moment, I was terrified.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a fucking prude, I wouldn’t need Hellen to fulfill my needs!” He shouts, taking a step towards me. I back away, carefully lowering my hand but keeping the recording going. If Jonathan was about to get violent on me, then I would need proof.

“We are over.” I declare, continuing to back away and exiting the room. I take off just as I hear Jonathan curse, chasing after me and calling my name. I make a beeline for the front door, happy that I wore my sneakers today and not the pumps I wore when I left for my work trip. By the time Jonathan managed to catch up to me, I was outside just out of his grasp, with him hiding behind the door, not daring to exit the house we shared due to him forgetting that he was caught red handed, naked and deep inside the whore who ruined my life since my mother married her father.

“Come back inside and take to me, Jessica, please.” Jonathan begs as I rush into my Hyundai Elantra, not bothering to pay him any mind. I had proof of his cheating. Now I needed to use this proof to my advantage and gather my things, and for that I needed help.

I drive away from the house I have lived in for two years, the house I meticulously decorated as soon as I moved in. Thankfully, Jonathan and I were only renting it from my stepfather, but I know that as soon as Helen spins her lies, I will never be able to step inside it again.

My hands begin to shake as the betrayal sinks in. Sobs wreck my body and I pull over, finally giving myself a moment to break down now that I was away from that scumbag. I never thought I would be cheated on, be betrayed like this. But I should have known better because I knew there were whispers about Helen taking a liking to Jonathan the first time I brought him to meet my mother.

Wanting them to hurt just as badly as I did, I pulled up the family group chat on Messenger, happy to see that Helen had yet to say anything. It only took three minutes to write up coming home from a work trip early to surprise Jonathan, only to find him in bed with Helen, fucking her in the home we were supposed to be building together, with the video as proof.

I waited, furiously wiping at tears for the fire to start from this simple spark. First, it was my stepbrother, Helen’s brother, commenting, asking me if I was safe and away from that sleaze and his whore, then it was my mother telling me I should have brought this up in private. I knew then she only cared about her marriage to Daniel and not the fact her daughter was cheated on but that whore she brought into my life by marrying him.

Messages of support for me came flooding in, and I smiled bitterly. For years, everyone believed in the perfect little angel act Helen put on, blaming me for all the bad things she did. I decided this was just the nail I needed to crack the perfect image she made for herself. Before I knew it, I was listing everything Helen did for the last ten years since she became my stepsister, and how I was blamed for it all. I was hurting, hating that, at twenty-four years old, my life crumbled to pieces because of that bitch.

More support for me came in after I clicked sent, and family on my mother’s side and stepfather’s side were scolding them for coddling Helen and wishing they had known beforehand what I was going through in their household. My mother tried calling me, but I knew it would just be a scolding for airing the family dirty laundry, so I sent her to voice mail. What ever she has to say, she can leave a message.

Suddenly, my screen lit up with a call, and for a moment, I was ready to ignore it, but I noticed that this was one call I knew I should take. I had seen his little bubble pop up, knowing he had read all the messages I sent and the pain I went through. He was my escape from the house I grew up in, taking me away from my mother every summer and winter holiday. He should be in Cuba right now with his wife, enjoying their anniversary. TO know he was dropping everything to call me makes the pain coursing through me ebb slightly, and I know he would find a way to help me gather my things and get as far away from Jonathan as possible, even if he was hours away from me.

Answering the call, I bring the phone to my ear and sniffle back a sob.

“Hi Dad.”