All Chapters of In love with my step father in law : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

------Chapter 21: Ravelling desiresThe apartment was thick with a silence that pressed in from all sides—not peaceful, not quiet in the way one might long for after noise, but heavy. It lived in the walls, curled into corners, breathed just behind Isla’s neck.She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her damp skin still glistening from the steam. Water clung to the tips of her hair like dew, and the robe she wore hung open at the neck. Her reflection stared back at her, not unfamiliar, but distant. Her eyes looked older. Hollow. Like they’d seen too much and still weren’t done watching.She touched her collarbone lightly, brushing over the faint bruise that had bloomed just beneath the surface. Christopher’s doing—but not from pain. It was the trace of a kiss, one born of too much feeling, too many unspoken things, too much restraint that had finally cracked.The door creaked softly as she left the bathroom.He was seated on the edge of the bed. Shirtless, hunched slightly forward

.---Chapter 23: The last BiteThe screen dimmed, but Isla didn’t blink.She couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on the glowing remnants of what she’d just read—the email, the images, the audio file still humming faintly in the background like a ghost that refused to leave.Then she saw his name.Christopher.Her throat closed.He wasn’t just part of her present. He was the thread she thought she'd severed—tied to the past she’d buried, locked away, renamed.He knew.He’d known all along.Watched her. Followed her. Then had the audacity to pretend he didn’t recognize her when they “met.”The phone slipped from her hand and shattered on the cold marble. The crack echoed, sharp and final—but her ears were ringing too loud to care.She was already out the door.---She didn’t knock. She never would again.The guards didn’t try to stop her—they must’ve seen something in her face. Something cold. Something set.Christopher was standing by the window, shirtless, the city’s lights casting him in

------Chapter 25: Undecided.The city refused to sleep. Isla tried anyway.When she jolted awake, the clock on the nightstand blinked 2:59 a.m. Her skin was slick with sweat, her breath uneven. Same nightmare, different night—Victor’s hand choking the life out of her, her father’s voice muffled behind glass, metal screaming against metal, the scent of blood.She sat up and buried her face in her hands. Her lungs still hadn’t caught up.The war outside had cracked something inside her—and now it echoed louder than ever.Next to her, Christopher lay still, his back to her, arm outstretched but not touching. That space between them felt deliberate. Since the call with Victor, something fragile had settled in the silence between them. He’d been careful. Careful like a man afraid his touch might tip her into pieces.What he didn’t know—what she couldn’t say—was that she already felt like she was breaking.Quietly, she slid out of bed, barefoot across the cold floor. The kitchen lights sta

Chapter 27:Hidden filesThe city looked the same. Tall towers still clawed at the heavens, their mirrored sides catching the dying sun like knives of light. But Isla could feel it in her bones—something had shifted. Not in the skyline, not in the buildings.In her.The city hadn’t changed.She had.She rode in silence, her forehead pressed to the cold window of Christopher’s car. Rain tapped softly on the glass. Outside, everything blurred—streets she used to know, alleys that once whispered secrets, neon signs flickering like old memories. Her reflection stared back at her, distant and tired.In the back, the man they’d captured was unconscious—duct-taped, bleeding, tucked into the trunk like a nightmare no one wanted to deal with just yet.Christopher didn’t speak for miles. When he did, his voice was low. Careful.“You know what we’re looking for?”“No,” she said without looking at him. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”He nodded once. That was enough.---Her father’s old office wa

--- Chapter 29: The Devil’s cardboard ---The flame flickered softly as Victor Kane lit the end of his cigar. He wasn’t in a hurry—he never was. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, like a man who knew time bent for him. The tobacco caught fire, glowing a fierce red, and a curl of smoke drifted lazily into the stale air of the underground chamber.A steel cage stood at the center of the room, cold and unfeeling under the dim, amber light. Inside, a girl—barefoot, bruised, and barely seventeen—huddled in the corner. Her wrists were raw from the iron cuffs. Her breathing was shallow, panicked, but quiet. She hadn’t made a sound in over an hour.Victor didn’t acknowledge her at first.Instead, he turned his attention to the camera in the corner of the room. The little red light blinked back at him. Always watching.“To those keeping tabs,” he said smoothly, exhaling smoke. “Remember this. I don’t miss a single detail. I don’t lose pieces on the board. I remove them.”He took one