Semua Bab Taken by my stepfather : Bab 21 - Bab 30

The restaurant was quiet now. I’d just served the last table, a couple who couldn’t stop bickering about the bill. I waited near the back while they took their sweet time. My feet ached from standing all day, and my lower back felt like it had been put through a grinder. I wasn’t in the mood to smile or make conversation anymore. I just wanted to go home, shower, and melt into my couch.They finally left at exactly 8PM. Claire helped me close up shop and flip chairs onto tables, sweeping and locking up the back.“Get home safe, babe,” she said, bumping my shoulder with hers like she always did when the day ended.“Always,” I replied with a half-smile. She didn’t ask why my eyes looked tired or why I’d barely spoken during the dinner rush. Claire was observant like that. She knew when to push and when not to.I caught the 8:15 train back to my apartment, leaning against the cold window as the city slid past in a blur of neon and noise. I should’ve been thinking about food, about restin

Daniel's POVI slept like a fucking baby. No nightmares, just black, heavy sleep that knocked me out cold the second my head hit the pillow.Which was ironic, considering the chaos that had detonated in my head the night before. And then I woke up to a hard dick, like I was some sort of teenager. I was so fucking painfully hard, like my body hadn’t gotten the memo that last night was over and done with.“Goddammit,” I muttered, staring at the ceiling.Eden’s face flashed in my mind immediately. Her voice. Her body. The way she’d looked on that screen, unaware, vulnerable, and completely unguarded in a way that punched straight through my discipline.I cursed under my breath and shifted, trying to make it go the hell away. It didn’t. If anything, the memory made it worse.I smacked my dick in frustration, like that was somehow going to reset my hormones.“Get it together,” I growled at myself.Cold shower. That was the only answer.I swung my legs over the bed and stalked into the bath

Daniel’s POVI came home and didn’t go straight inside. I sat in the car, engine off, just watching the front of the house. I wasn’t avoiding anything; I was delaying the inevitable. There’s a difference.I finally got out, handed the keys to my driver, and told him not to wait up. I wasn’t going anywhere else tonight.The house was quiet when I went in, and I headed upstairs, peeled off my clothes, and walked straight into the shower. The water hit hot and sharp. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tile, letting it run over me. I wasn’t tired, but I was done. Done with the pretending. The show. The woman downstairs, or wherever the fuck she was.After the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and headed to my study, the only room in this house that still felt like mine. I shrugged on a shirt, unbuttoned, didn’t bother with pants yet. I needed to sit and think.“Victoria,” I called. “Bring me some coffee.”Minutes later, she came in with a tray in hand, footsteps light.But she didn

Eden’s POVI stepped off the train a little after 8 PM. The city lights blurred past me as I walked; my body was tired, and my mind was on autopilot. My shift had been long and draining, but I was looking forward to one thing: home.My apartment. My small, imperfect, peaceful little space.I reached the building, climbed the stairs, and dug into my bag for my key. I slipped it into the lock, but… it didn’t turn.I frowned, and I tried again. I twisted again, but harder this time.Still stuck.What the hell?This was my key. My apartment. I lived here. Why wasn’t it working?My heart thudded a little faster in my chest. I looked at the number on the door. Same as always. Apartment 3B.I knocked.A few seconds passed, and then the door opened and I froze.A woman stood there. Probably in her early thirties, casually dressed, her eyes warm but confused. Behind her, a man stepped into view, holding a takeout bag.“Sorry,” I said, already feeling my stomach churn. “Who are you, and what ar

Eden’s POVHe didn’t leave. That was the first thing my body registered before my mind could catch up with it.Most people, when they walk into a room and realize they’ve interrupted something intimate, something private, do the polite thing. They hesitate. They glance away. They offer an apology or at least the courtesy of pretending they aren’t cataloguing every detail.Daniel’s son did none of that.He stood there just inside the dining room, unmoving, his presence pressing into the space like gravity, and the longer he stayed without speaking, the more aware I became of myself in a way that made my skin prickle. My wet hair clung to my neck, damp and darkened at the ends, the bathrobe loosely tied, the fabric soft and thin and completely inappropriate for the kind of attention now aimed at me.His gaze was not rushed. It slid over me in a way that was neither crude nor shy, pausing where it wanted, lingering without apology, and what unsettled me the most was not the attention its