Claiming My Bratty Stepdaughter(6)

The tent felt suffocating when I woke up. My head was pounding. My throat was burning. I could barely keep my eyes open.

“You’re burning up,” Richard said, his hand on my forehead. His voice was calm but tense.

I didn’t argue. I just lay there while he packed everything. Fast. He didn’t waste time.

We drove for hours. I drifted in and out of sleep. Every bump in the road made my stomach worse.

At the last rest stop, Richard pulled in for gas. He didn’t get out. Just stayed in the driver’s seat with the engine off, watching me.

“We will soon be home,” he said quietly.

I could barely nod.

He filled the tank and got back in. Didn’t say anything else. Just drove.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, all I wanted was my bed and maybe some water and to stop feeling like my body was betraying me.

“Come on,” Richard said gently, helping me out.

Richard grabbed the bags from the trunk. I headed straight inside. My room was upstairs.

I climbed the stairs slowly, holding the bannister. My legs felt weak.

That’s when I heard it.

A low sound from Mom’s room. Deep. Unmistakable.

Coming from Mom’s room.

At first I thought I was imagining it. But then I heard it again. A woman’s voice. Mom’s voice.

I froze at the top of the stairs.

My stomach dropped.

I moved toward her bedroom door without thinking. Like my body knew before my brain caught up.

I could hear them now. The unmistakable sounds of two people together.

The door was cracked open.

I pushed it wider and…

Oh my God.

Mom was on the bed with a man I’d never seen before. His back was to me. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open.

“Mom!” I shouted.

They ripped apart.

“What the hell?” I said. My voice was shaking. “Who is that?”

Mom was scrambling for the sheet, her face going white.

The guy was already moving, grabbing his clothes off the floor.

“Emma, I… I can explain…” Mom started.

“Explain what? That you’re cheating?”

The guy was pulling his pants on. His belt was still on the floor. He didn’t care. He just wanted out.

“The window,” Mom said desperately to him.

The guy was at the window. Half out. His legs were over the sill.

I heard Richard’s footsteps thundering up the stairs behind me.

He appeared in the hallway and stopped beside me.

“Don’t you dare,” Richard said, his voice sharp.

Richard rushed toward the guy who was dangling halfway out.

The guy didn’t hesitate. He jumped out and dropped. We heard him hit the ground, heard him groan, then I heard a car engine start and drive off.

Richard stood at the window, breathing hard, watching.

“Why are you back early?” Mom asked… her voice shaky, like that was the important question. Like her husband hadn’t just watched a man jump out a window to escape.

Richard turned to face her. His jaw was clenched so hard I thought it might break.

“Our daughter is sick,” he said, his voice low and lethal.

“Richard, please…”

“Stop talking.”

“I’ve been decent in this marriage while you’ve been with other men, and our daughter is trying to figure out why you don’t give a shit about her.”

He turned to me.

“Emma. Room. Now.”

“Richard…”

“Now!”

I didn’t argue. I went to my room and slammed the door so hard the whole house shook.

Behind the closed door, I heard Mom crying.

I heard Richard’s voice, cold and cutting.

I heard the sound of my mother’s marriage ending.

I lay on my bed, my stomach churning, my head pounding, and I thought about Richard, about the way he looked at Mom like she was nothing.

My phone buzzed.

A text from him: unlock your door.