Lahat ng Kabanata ng Stepdaughter by Day, Wife by Night: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

LENAThe house was quiet when we came home from the hospital. Too quiet. The kind of silence that hums in your ears, like the world itself is holding its breath.Roman’s hand never left mine, even as he guided me inside, his thumb tracing slow circles over my skin. I could feel the tightness in his body — every step, every breath, the worry he tried to hide.He didn’t speak until the door shut behind us.“Sit down,” he said softly, his voice deeper than usual. “You shouldn’t be on your feet for too long.”“I’m fine,” I said, trying to smile. “It was just exhaustion.”He turned to me then, eyes storm-dark and intense. “Exhaustion doesn’t make you nearly collapse in my arms, Lena.”I swallowed, guilt pooling in my chest. “I’ve just been juggling too much lately. The brand launch, the blog, Isabella, and—”“And you forgot to take care of yourself,” he interrupted, frustration breaking through his calm. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? Seeing you pale and weak, barely able to st

LENAThe baby brand launch event was supposed to be the biggest day of my year — maybe even my life. Months of planning, designing, and perfecting every little detail had led up to this moment. Roman had insisted we host it at one of the luxury venues downtown, and even though I’d argued for something smaller, he’d said, “If it’s yours, it deserves to be seen.”And now, here I was, standing in front of the floor-length mirror in my dressing room, smoothing out the soft white dress over my growing bump. My heart fluttered nervously as I looked at my reflection. My body had changed again — fuller, softer, glowing, Roman always said — but I still wasn’t used to seeing myself like this.Isabella ran into the room, her tiny shoes tapping on the marble floor. “Mommy, you look like a princess!” she squealed.I bent down carefully and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, baby. You look beautiful too.”She twirled in her pale pink dress, giggling. “Daddy said I’m the star of the show.”“Of course

LENAThe morning light filtered softly through the white curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. Isabella’s giggles echoed faintly from down the hall—her new favorite game was throwing her toys out of the crib and calling for me to fetch them.But this morning, I didn’t rush to her room right away. I was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind somewhere else entirely.I hadn’t told Roman about the message from last night. I’d deleted it before I could second-guess myself. The words were still burned into my mind though—It’s about your father. There’s something he didn’t tell you.I tried to brush it off. Tried to convince myself that it was some weird prank or maybe someone trying to stir up more drama after everything that had happened. But my chest wouldn’t unclench.Roman noticed my silence almost immediately. He always did.When he came into the room, he was dressed casually—white shirt, gray sweatpants, and that sleepy look that made my heart flutter even no

LENA I never thought I’d become someone people looked up to. It still feels strange to even write that sentence. For so long, I was the scandal, the whispered-about girl in the corner of every room. The name people only mentioned behind their hands. Now, somehow, my words—those late-night, heart-spilled paragraphs—were inspiring strangers across the world. It started small. A message here, a comment there. But soon, the tone of my inbox changed. I wasn’t just getting questions or interview requests anymore. I was getting stories. Real ones. Women from all over began reaching out to me, sharing pieces of themselves they’d never said out loud. Some wrote about broken marriages, some about single motherhood, some about rediscovering their strength after losing everything. There were young girls too, writing about fear and love, asking if it ever stops feeling so heavy. Reading them made me realize how connected we all were, even in pain. I remember one email vividly—from a woman na

If someone had told me two years ago that I’d be planning a wedding with Roman Wolfe—again, and this time for real—I probably would’ve laughed and cried at the same time. After everything we’d been through, the idea of standing in front of our family and friends to officially say “I do” felt like something out of a dream I wasn’t sure I deserved. But here we were, right back in the whirlwind of wedding planning, with swatches of fabric, floral catalogs, and a to-do list that could make even the most organized person want to run away.I sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by samples of ivory lace and blush silk. The twins were napping upstairs, the house unusually quiet except for the faint hum of Roman’s phone calls in his office. I tried to focus on the planner in front of me but kept getting distracted by how surreal it all felt.“Okay, Lena,” I muttered to myself. “Step one—find a dress that won’t make you trip over your own feet.”Just then, Roman appeared in the