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Chapter 8 - Performance
publish date:
2026-09-24 18:15:43
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Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King Chapter 57 - Elias Junior
(Lorei’s POV)“Wait, back up. Teo gave her a ring pop?”“A blue one.” Marisol is perched on the end of my bed with her shoes off and her feet tucked under her, holding a mug she’s stopped drinking from. “He took it out of his pocket in the kitchen, in front of the whole staff, and got down on one knee.”“Oh my god.”“Anita screamed. She dropped a tray of croissants.”“Is that a yes?”“She said ‘it’s not even a real ring,’ and he said ‘it’s a real promise,’ and she cried, and now he’s wearing the wrapper on a chain around his neck.” Marisol lowers her voice. “Briggs saw it, he pretended he didn’t. But his ears were red. I could see he was fuming.”I’m laughing so hard I have to hold the pillow over my stomach. It’s day three of Elias insisting I need to rest after the Fisher saga, and I’ve been in this bed so long I can name every crack in the ceiling. I’ve had soup, toast, crackers, three kinds of tea, and a hot water bottle someone put in my hands without a word. Everything is soft a
Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King Chapter 56 - Four Minutes
(Lorei’s POV)The four minutes are starting to seem like one hour, so I call him again. He picks, but I don’t hear anything from his end.“Elias? Elias, are you there?” Nothing. The screen says Call Ended, and the car is so quiet I can hear my own pulse in my ears. I hit his name again. It rings once and goes to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. He’s in a tunnel. He’s fine. He said four minutes.I look at the clock on the dash. 2:41.The air inside the car begins to feel thick, like somebody’s pressing a pillow on my face. I wind down the window and the smell of Marlow’s rolls in, bacon grease and burnt coffee, and my stomach turns over so hard I clap a hand over my mouth.Oh no. No, no, no. Not here.I get the door open and half fall out, and I stand with my back flat against the cold metal, the keys digging into my palm, breathing through my nose. The diner window is thirty feet away. I can see the back of a blue shirt in the last booth, shoulders bent, not moving. I look away fast.Don’
Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King Chapter 55 - Thirty Minutes
(Lorei’s POV)“Okay, but you can’t just say ‘pickle’ like it’s a personality,” Elias says, eyes on the road. “There are different types.”“There’s only one type, and it’s the type that goes on a sandwich.”“That’s three types. Dill, bread-and-butter, and the sweet gherkin.”“How do you know that?”“I read the jar.” His mouth twitches. “Marisol bought four after you said ‘the pickle.’ I wanted to know which one I was dealing with.”I laugh so hard I have to put my forehead on the cold window. It’s been two days since the roof, and we’ve been careful in a stiff, polite way, like two people carrying a full pot of soup across a room. He drives me to work. I tell him a pun. He pretends not to laugh. Last night he said “I’m doing it” out loud, standing in my doorway, about a conversation with Briggs, and I said “Thank you for telling me,” and we both stood there like it was the weirdest thing either of us had ever done. It’s working. It’s slow and awkward and it’s working. Even though we st
Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King Chapter 54 - Pour One for the Other Guy
(Fisher’s POV)It’s 11:20 in the morning and the bottle on my desk is already a third gone.Don’t look at the bottle. Look at the spreadsheet.I look at the spreadsheet. The numbers swim, so I look at the window. There’s a pigeon on the ledge, fat and gray, staring at me like I owe it money.“What are you looking at?”The pigeon leaves. Great. Even the pigeon.Someone knocks twice, and Caleb comes in without waiting, holding his tablet against his chest. He’s twenty-six, been my assistant for eight months, and he has been stuck with a boss who hasn’t gone home since Tuesday. There’s a pillow behind my office couch. He’s pretending not to see it.“Morning, Mr Fisher. Quick run-through?”“Shoot.”“The Hendricks shipment cleared customs, but the port wants the revised manifest by Friday, or they hold it again. Your father called three times.” He glances at the glass. “He wants you at the board meeting at two.”“Tell him I’m busy.”“I told him that Monday. And Tuesday.”“Then tell him aga
Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King Chapter 53 - What the Cold Says
(Lorei’s POV)I step on the rooftop lounge, and it's freezing. I realize I’m standing on it barefoot in a camisole and shorts, and my feet already hurt, and I don’t care, because it’s the only place in this house where nobody can hear me. I had tossed off the dress somewhere as I was coming to the roof. “I hate him.”I say it out loud to the string lights nobody ever turns on. It comes out so thin, like biting into something and finding it empty. I try again.“I fucking HATE him.”Nothing. My teeth are chattering. A tear runs off my chin and lands on my collarbone, right where I put the perfume, and it’s the perfume that does it. I can smell it. I stood in front of a mirror and thought about whether to wear a bra. For him. Two days ago I was so happy I danced in the car.Why would a person do that for someone they hate?My legs give out and I sit down hard on the cold edge of the wicker chair.Oh.Oh no.No, no, no, no.I put both hands over my face, because it’s right there in my he
Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King Chapter 52 - Twelve Hours Late
(Lorei’s POV)Me: landed yet??Me: hello???Me: ok I’m not mad, just tell me you’re aliveElias: Busy. Work.Me: that’s it?? we had a whole thing about picklesElias: Landed.That’s the whole thread. Nine messages from me, seven calls that definitely rang out each time, and three words from him. I’ve read it so many times the screen has gone dim on its own twice.He’s tired. It’s a 16-hour flight. Men don’t text on planes. Stop it.I put the phone face down on the dresser and dab perfume behind my ears. I got the good one, vanilla and something sharp. Then my wrists. Then, because I’m an idiot, my collarbone. I’m in the thin black camisole and the soft shorts with the little drawstring, my hair loose, no bra, because he’s been gone two days, and I’ve been thinking about it more than is healthy.Baby, you’re glowing. You look like a waiting bride. I grin at myself in the mirror and tell her to shut up. Nobody’s anybody’s bride.I hear the front door downstairs. Then his voice, he’s t
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