All Chapters of Stepdaughter by Day, Wife by Night: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

LENAThe moment Roman’s voice wrapped around me, deep and scratchy from sleep, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.But instead of answering him, my brain did that cruel thing it loved to do—it threw me back into the chaos of last night, forcing me to relive every blurred second I’d been trying so hard to ignore.It started with tequila. Always tequila.“Come on, Lena!” my best friend Macy had cheered, thrusting a shot glass into my hand. “It’s Vegas, babe. You can’t sulk about your ex forever. Time to live a little!”I had rolled my eyes, muttering something about bad decisions and hangovers, but the truth was, my heart still ached. Seeing Tyler with another girl only a month after breaking things off had shredded my pride. I wanted to feel anything but that hollow ache inside my chest.So I tipped the glass back. The burn of tequila seared down my throat, chasing away common sense. One shot became three. Three became… I lost count. The club lights blurred into streaks of neon, and the ba

LENAHome didn’t feel like home anymore.I thought stepping back into my small apartment would ground me, that I’d close the door on Vegas and everything would stay there—like some blurry dream I could shove into a box and forget about.But the problem with dreams is they don’t come with a six-carat diamond still clinging to your finger.I tossed my purse onto the couch and dropped beside it, staring at the ring that refused to come off no matter how much soap, lotion, or sheer desperation I used. My skin was red from trying, but the damn thing still sparkled like it owned me.Because it did.Roman Wolfe owned me, and he didn’t even know it yet.I buried my face in my hands, groaning into the quiet. The air smelled faintly of the lavender candle I’d left half-burned weeks ago, a comforting normalcy that clashed violently with the chaos in my head.It had been two days since I ran. Two days of replaying every detail, every sliver of memory from that night until I wanted to scream. The

LENABy the time I got back to my apartment, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. My makeup was smeared, my heels were in my hand because I’d given up walking in them halfway up the stairs, and my chest felt like someone had tied it in knots.The dinner kept replaying in my head like a nightmare on loop. My mom’s glowing face. Roman sitting there in his tailored suit like nothing had happened. The way his eyes never let me go.I wanted to scream. Or drink. Or maybe both.Instead, I did what I always did when my world tilted off its axis. I called the one person who knew me better than anyone: Ava.She answered on the second ring, her voice muffled like she had a mouthful of chips. “Lena? It’s midnight, are you dying?”“Kind of,” I said, my voice cracking in a way that made her instantly go quiet.“What happened?”“Can you come over? Please?”There wa

LENAMoving back into my mom’s house was supposed to be temporary. A few weeks, she said. Just until the renovations at her condo were finished.I didn’t realize those “few weeks” would feel like an eternity—because Roman Wolfe also lived there.The first morning I woke up in the same house as him, I swore my chest might implode from nerves. The air itself felt different, heavier, like the walls had absorbed his presence overnight. I could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen before I even left my room, and the scent made my pulse quicken in a way it shouldn’t.For twenty full minutes I debated staying in my room, starving rather than risk bumping into him. But my mom’s voice carried up the stairs, cheerful and insistent. “Lena! Breakfast is ready!”With a deep breath, I smoothed down my hair and walked out, rehearsing in my head: polite, distant, normal. Pretend like nothing is wrong. Pretend li

LENAThe words came out of nowhere.We weren’t fighting. We weren’t even alone in some dramatic, cinematic setting. It was just another night in this house that was beginning to feel like a trap.My mom had gone upstairs early with a headache, leaving me and Roman in the living room. I sat curled on one end of the couch with a book in my hands, pretending to read, while he lounged in the armchair opposite, scrolling on his phone.It was silent except for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. And then, without looking up, he said it.“You’re still my wife.”The book nearly slipped from my fingers. I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”His gaze lifted lazily from his phone, locking on mine. No smirk this time. No teasing glint. Just calm certainty.“You heard me,” he said. “We got married, Lena. That doesn’t go away just becau