All Chapters of My Stepfather's Deadly Obsession: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

MIGUELThe road blurred past the window, painted in streaks of streetlights and early morning fog. Luca was driving like a man with something to prove. I mean, didn’t he? He had one hand tight around the steering wheel and the other bouncing restlessly on the gearstick. I sat silently beside him, holding Isabella close as she slept against my chest. Leo was in the back, humming to himself under his breath, lost in his world.Luca hadn’t said much since we left the house. He kept repeating that he knew a place. He mentioned that there was a bar where certain men still owed him favours, where secrets were traded faster than drinks.But then, as we stopped at a red light, he glanced into the rearview mirror and frowned.“Shit,” he muttered. “I forgot the kids were with us.”I slapped my forehead and cursed inaudibly. I hadn’t even thought of that. “They’ve been quiet,” I said softly, adjusting Isabella’s blanket. “But you’re right. We can’t bring them where we’re going.”Luca’s eyes st

MIGUELThe moment the sun dipped low, I was already in a taxi. I was too worked up for it, so I ended up bouncing my leg in my seat, trying to stay calm.Even the driver seemed to sense something urgent. He didn’t waste time asking questions before driving, as if silence was the only respectful thing he could offer. I watched the city blur by while twisting my fingers around each other on my lap.Salvatore was awake. I should’ve felt joy and relief. Maybe I did. But beneath all of that was something pungent. I didn’t know what, exactly. Just that it didn’t sit right with me.When the hospital came into view, I jumped out before the car fully stopped, paid him while muttering thanks as I hurried toward the entrance. My footsteps echoed down the hallway as I reached the wing. Pietro and Mama were standing just outside the room, talking in low voices. Both of them looked startled when they saw me.“He’s awake,” Pietro said. “He… he cried when he saw us.”Mama nodded. “He reached for us

MIGUELI hated this. It had been a week of this. A week of watching Salvatore come home reeking of something bitter, half-drunk or with someone new hanging off him like he was theirs. Pietro followed him around like a silent bodyguard, always close, always watching, like he was afraid Salvatore might slip through the cracks if he looked away for too long.Tonight, it was another stranger. This one was louder than the rest, showing all her teeth. They stumbled in laughing, Salvatore’s arm draped lazily around the lady's shoulder, like nothing about this was strange, like he couldn’t see that he was breaking the heart of the one he loved.I was still standing by the archway, half-lit by the yellow kitchen light. They walked right past me and didn’t even glance my way. Pietro was the last to come in. He looked at me with something between guilt and defeat before following them upstairs without a word.The silence afterwards felt like it stretched through every wall. Everyone else was as

SALVATOREI watched Luca’s hand lift lazily in the air as the car rolled away.I hid by the window with one hand pressed flat against the glass, watching them disappear down the road. The tires cracked over the gravel and the sun shimmered across the windshield, and then they were gone. That Miguel guy didn’t even look back. Not once.As I watched them leave, there was a strange feeling inside me. A strange hollowness cracked open in my chest. I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t even name it. It was just there… like something had been scooped out and taken with them.I closed my eyes and tried again.That face. Miguel’s face.It flickered through my mind in pieces. I could almost see a half-smile, the curve of a cheekbone, and something golden about the way he held himself. But no matter how hard I reached for it, it slipped away. He felt like déjà vu, familiar in the worst way. Like a dream I wasn’t ready to wake from.I hated it. I loved it. I didn’t understand it.I pulled away from

MIGUELThe house smelled like roasted garlic and fresh basil. Paul had insisted we make something warm.“Comfort food,” he called it, while the kids were sprawled out in front of the TV, transfixed by some loud cartoon about magical animals. I was just glad they were laughing again.Paul’s house felt… good. It had bright walls, soft rugs, and a lot of throw pillows. He kept trailing behind me in the kitchen, brushing my shoulder, taking over my cutting board with a grin and a squeeze to the waist. I rolled my eyes, but I let him hover. It felt nice, having someone flutter around me like I was worth orbiting.I stirred the tomato sauce and leaned against the counter.“I tucked photos everywhere,” I said suddenly.Paul looked up from the cheese he was grating. “What?”“In the house,” I said, quieter. “Before I left with the kids. I didn’t want to just go. I… I thought maybe if he started remembering, even in flashes, he’d have something to hold onto.”Paul set the grater down, wiped his