Semua Bab Craving My Stepson: Bab 81 - Bab 90

I stared at him, unable to speak for a while. My lips parted as I struggled to find the right words to speak in that moment. “No...” I whispered, shaking my head. “Scott, that... that doesn’t make sense. What are you talking about?” My heart twisted painfully. “Scott? What are you saying?” My voice cracked. “What does my mum have to do with your wife’s death?” He sat there silently, looking at me while I processed what I had just heard. “Murdered?” I whispered again. “Scott... please tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying?” Then he reached for my hand. “Yes, Sabrina. My wife was murdered.” “How was she murdered if she died giving birth to Ace?” He exhaled softly. “During the time when she would come to plead with me to take her back, seducing me and promising to make me the happiest man on earth... I refused all advances and stood tall behind my wife. She didn’t like my response to her advances at all. So, she started stalking Elsie.” I covered my mouth with my

When I walked out of the guest room, I shut the door behind me harder than I meant to. I didn’t even take a full step before colliding into someone. Something hard struck my shin, and a clatter spilled across the floor. It sounded like metal, then plastic, and the hollow thump of a mop bucket. “Oh— I’m so sorry,” I blurted immediately, already bending down. Mary was kneeling too, gathering scattered cleaning supplies with quick, flustered hands. “No, no, it’s okay, ma’am, I should’ve been more careful.” “Mary,” I sighed, handing her a spray bottle, “don’t call me ma’am.” She gave a small smile. We finished gathering the supplies, and Mary stood first, hugging the mop against her side. She nodded toward the small storage closet two rooms down. I followed her without thinking, my mind still trapped in the poisonous words my mother had thrown at me moments ago. When we entered the room, Mary placed everything back into neatly labeled cubbies, then turned to me. Her expression softe

He looked feral, wounded, and betrayed in a way I’d never seen, and my chest tightened with every step he took. “How could you hide that from me?” Ace shouted. “How could you look me in the face, every single day of my life, and let me believe I killed her?” Scott blinked, stunned. “Ace, calm down—” “DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!” Ace roared. His voice echoed across the walls so violently that one of the maids flinched and stepped back. Even Mary, who always seemed unnervingly composed, looked shaken. She hovered behind Scott like she wanted to step forward, but wasn’t sure if she should. “Ace,” Scott tried again, voice low and strained, “you can’t shout like this. You don’t understand—” “Oh, I understand perfectly,” Ace snapped. “I understand that you let me drown in guilt. I understand that you let me grow up thinking I was a curse. I understand you never trusted me with the truth.” Scott’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t tell you because—” “DON’T LIE TO ME!” Ace’s voice cracked. “You

After rushing back downstairs to look for Scott, and didn’t find him. I went back upstairs, but I found Scott by sound before I could even see him. His voice drifted faintly down the hall toward the master's bedroom, and it was filled with the frustration he used only when he was trying hard not to shout. At first, I thought he was on a call. He often was, even during the afternoon. But as I moved closer, another voice came through the crack beneath the door. Mary. I froze. My hand was inches from the doorknob when I heard her unmistakable voice. “Sir, I only did what you wouldn’t,” Mary said, her voice trembling. I pressed myself flat to the door. My heart was pounding. I held my breath and listened. Scott’s reply came immediately. “Mary, you crossed a line. A serious line.” His voice echoed in the room. “You don’t raise your hand to my son. Ever. No matter what. You do not raise a hand on my child.” There was a small thud, maybe she shifted or stepped closer. “I was protect

Throughout our entire ride to the restaurant, everybody was quiet. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for someone else to speak first. I sat in the front beside Scott because Ace insisted he wanted the entire backseat to “mentally prepare himself,” whatever that meant. I didn’t argue because he was already doing enough by agreeing to this dinner in the first place. When we pulled into the small, warmly lit family-style restaurant, I instantly became calm. The place looked cozy. It had round tables, cushioned sofa-like seats, soft lamps hanging overhead, and the other families chatting around steaming bowls of food. The hostess led us toward a round table tucked in a corner. The plush, round sofa wrapped around it in a perfect circle, and without thinking too deeply about it, I slid into the center. Ace sat on my left, Scott on my right, both of them sinking into the cushions with two different kinds of sighs. Ace's sigh was loud and annoyed, while Scott was tire