All Chapters of Stepdaughter by Day, Wife by Night: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

LENAThe pregnancy test felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket.I sat frozen on the edge of my bed, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter drifting up from the living room. My mom’s soft, cheerful voice. Roman’s deep, steady reply. They blended together in a way that made my skin crawl, like some twisted joke fate had set in motion just to torture me.I pulled the little stick out of my hoodie and stared at the faint but unmistakable double lines. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it. My throat tightened, bile rising as the thought crashed over me again and again. Positive.I couldn’t let anyone find out. Not Mom, not Roman—especially not Roman.Shoving the test back into my pocket, I moved to my dresser. The second drawer stuck halfway, like it always did, squeaking loud enough to make me wince. I forced it open and yanked out a small pouch I hadn’t used since high school. I shoved the test inside and buried it under a stack of old scarves, tucking the pouch all the

LENAThe air in the house felt heavier than usual, like every wall carried a secret. Or maybe it was just me. Maybe I was the one who had become a walking vault of lies.Ever since I noticed the drawer open and the pregnancy test gone, I hadn’t been able to breathe properly. My chest carried this tight, electric panic that made it hard to think straight. Roman hadn’t mentioned it—not once. But that made it worse, didn’t it? He knew. And he was waiting.That night, Mom decided to host a dinner with some of her friends. Which meant the house was suddenly bursting with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the smell of roasted chicken. I tried to act normal, helping her set the table, smiling when spoken to. But all the while, my nerves buzzed like static under my skin.Roman was everywhere.Leaning against the doorway, his gaze brushing me like a touch. Standing too close when I reached for a serving dish. His presence seemed magnetic, pulling me in even when I wanted to run. I could feel

LENAI didn’t sleep that night.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Roman’s face. The certainty in his voice, the unshakable confidence when he said the words: You’re carrying my child.It made me sick. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it might be. And if it was, then everything I’d built around myself—my mother’s fragile happiness, my best friend’s worried warnings, my own desperate attempt at control—would crumble.By morning, I looked in the mirror and didn’t even recognize myself. My hair was messy, my eyes red-rimmed. And worse than all of that, my heart felt heavy, like I was dragging it behind me everywhere I went.But Roman? He was the opposite.When I came downstairs, he was already at the breakfast table, perfectly put together, sipping coffee like he hadn’t detonated my entire world twelve hours earlier. He looked up, caught my eye, and smiled that infuriating smile that made my stomach clench.“Good morning, wife,” he murmured, quiet enough that my mom wouldn’t hear

LENAThe sky cracked open just as I stepped onto the porch.At first it was just a drizzle, the kind that kissed your skin and smelled faintly like earth. But then the wind picked up, the thunder rolled, and within minutes sheets of rain were pounding down, soaking everything in sight.I should have stayed inside. Any normal person would have. But there was something about the storm—something about the wild, reckless energy of it—that matched the chaos spinning inside me.I pressed my palm against the porch railing, watching the rain splash against the driveway in heavy silver drops. My heart raced like I’d been running even though I hadn’t moved at all.Behind me, the screen door creaked.“Lena.” His voice was a low rumble, almost blending with the thunder.I didn’t turn around. I didn’t have to. I could feel him there, just a few steps away, watching me the way he always did.“You shouldn’t be out here,” Roman said. “You’ll get soaked.”“Maybe I want to,” I muttered, surprising even

LENAIf there was one thing I thought I could count on, it was that my mom always wanted me close. She’d begged me to stay in the house when I first came back, insisted I needed “a little stability” after the chaos of Vegas. And honestly, I hadn’t fought her on it. The idea of returning to my tiny apartment felt too lonely, too suffocating. Being here, even with Roman lurking around every corner, gave me the illusion of safety.But I should’ve known things were shifting the second I walked into the kitchen that morning.The smell of coffee and toasted bread usually meant comfort, but instead, my stomach tightened the moment I saw her. She was sitting at the table with her mug cradled between her hands, her lips pursed, her eyes strangely unreadable. Roman wasn’t there. For once, it was just the two of us.“Morning,” I said softly, pulling my sweater tighter around myself.“Morning, sweetheart.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. That was my first clue.I poured myself a glass o