All Chapters of Broke Up... Now I Am His Stepfather: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The silence shattered the moment Henry's voice sliced through the music. "You married him?" The record player crackled softly as the last note faded. Asher turned, his gaze softening as it met Henry’s. There was fatherly love in his eyes, quiet and unwavering. "You are my son," Asher said gently, "and I will always love you no matter what." Henry sat in his wheelchair in the doorway of the study, his fingers fidgeting with the ring on his hand. He didn’t lift his head. "As long as you're still wearing that," he muttered, eyes on the band of gold, "you have nothing to tell me." Asher stepped forward, calm but firm. "Henry—" "Don't call me that," Henry snapped. His voice was laced with venom and hurt. "You don't get to say my name after screwing—" He broke off, chest heaving with emotion. "You have got to be kidding me," he said, pushing the wheels slightly to roll farther into the room. Asher winced but didn’t retreat. "Henry, I—" "You what?" Henry’s voice cracked. "

Asher and Caleb stepped out of the house, their fingers loosely entwined, sunglasses shielding their eyes from the golden morning light. Their bags had already been loaded into the waiting black car that purred at the curb. Within minutes, they were gliding smoothly down the highway toward the private airstrip where Asher’s jet gleamed. Caleb reclined in his seat, his gaze fixed on the clouds drifting by in soft, endless waves. Beside him, Asher’s hand rested warmly on his thigh, a silent anchor as they talked, laughed, and stole lingering kisses throughout the flight. They landed on the secluded European island just before sunset. The resort was carved into the cliffs, a masterpiece of glass, marble, and endless views of the sapphire ocean. Their suite had a private infinity pool, a sprawling terrace, and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the sky in flames as night fell. As the door clicked shut behind them, Caleb turned, slipping off his shirt and letting it fall to the floor w

Valen stepped out of Henry’s house, the evening air brushing past as he adjusted the cuffs of his coat with deliberate ease. The wind caught the edge of the fabric, letting it billow gently around his legs. He paused on the top step, then turned halfway toward Henry, his voice low and unwavering. “Consider it done… nephew,” he said with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Henry sat quietly in his wheelchair by the doorway, meeting Valen’s gaze with a slight smile and a slow, deliberate nod. Without saying another word, Valen descended the steps, the soft echo of his shoes tapping against the marble. At the bottom of the stairs, three men stood in silence. Dark sunglasses concealed their eyes, and discreet earpieces curled into their collars, each one exuding a quiet but commanding presence. Beyond the open gate, a sleek convoy awaited, lined precisely along the driveway. At the front stood a Rolls-Royce Phantom, its jet-black surface gleaming beneath the fading sun. Behind it

Three days later Caleb and Asher returned from their vacation, stepping out of a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom that purred to a stop in front of their house. The chauffeur quickly rounded the car, opening the door for them with a respectful bow. Asher stepped out first, straightening to his full height, his crisp white shirt open at the collar, sunglasses shielding his sharp gaze. Caleb followed, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The chauffeur moved swiftly to the trunk, lifting out their suitcases with practiced ease while Caleb and Asher made their way up the stone steps, fingers naturally intertwining as they walked hand in hand toward the front door. The driver wheeled the boxes inside, leaving them neatly in the entryway before quietly stepping back out. Caleb turned to look at Asher with a warm glance, then leaned his head briefly against his shoulder as they entered the house together. --- Jaden heard a knock at his door. When he opened it, he was surprised. Cale

The flight to Florence was calm. Caleb sat by the window, gazing at the vast stretch of clouds, while his boss, Mr. Collins, worked beside him. Caleb’s heart pulsed with excitement and nerves. The thought of Maison Vernetti’s sleek designs and old-world charm sent shivers of inspiration down his spine. Upon arrival, the city welcomed them with golden sunlight and streets bathed in timeless elegance. They checked into Hotel Miravalle, a boutique masterpiece with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. At the front desk, a stunning receptionist greeted them. The hotel smelled faintly of citrus and polished wood. Chandeliers shimmered above like droplets of frozen light, casting a warm glow over the marble floor as Caleb stood beside Mr Collins at the front desk, holding his portfolio case close to his side. "We will take two rooms," Mr Collins said, his voice calm but edged with fatigue. The receptionist, a young woman with bright eyes and a practiced smile, began typing quickly