SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

CASSIANThe office smelled like old coffee and regret. I sat behind the desk that used to feel like a throne, now just a slab of wood holding up my crumbling life. My laptop screen glowed with the same five photos I’d been staring at for an hour—none of them Ivy, all of them meaningless. The door opened without a knock.My assistant—Mark, twenty-six, still too eager—stepped in holding a tablet like it was evidence.“They’re down,” he said. “All of them. Every major site, every forum, every dark corner we could find. The bots scrubbed the last traces an hour ago. No new uploads in forty-eight hours.”I leaned back in the chair. Felt the leather creak under me like it was tired too.“Good,” I said. “Keep the scripts running. And watch him. Anything—phone calls, meetings, unusual wire transfers, a fucking parking ticket—I want to know. Immediately.”Mark nodded once. “Already set up alerts. If he moves, you’ll know before he finishes the move.”He left.The door clicked shut.I rubb

IVY I woke up before the sun even thought about rising. The motel room was still dark, the only light a thin blue stripe from the TV Jonas had left on mute overnight. Sarah was curled against my side, her breathing slow and even, one arm flung across my waist like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go. Jonas was sprawled on the pull-out couch, one leg hanging off, mouth slightly open, snoring softly. Normal sounds. Safe sounds. The kind of sounds that used to make me feel like the world was still okay. But I couldn’t stay in bed. My body felt restless, itchy, like something was crawling under my skin. Last night’s breakdown still clung to me—my throat raw from crying, eyes puffy, chest tight with leftover grief and rage. The photo of Mom bent over that table kept flashing behind my eyes, Cassian’s hands on her hips, the same hands that had gripped mine. The note burned in my memory: “He only understands using his dick.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to

I didn’t want to know.That was the truth I kept repeating to myself like a prayer every time Everett’s name lit up my phone. I didn’t want another photo. I didn’t want another note. I didn’t want another memory dragged into daylight. Cassian was supposed to be the past—my ex-stepfather, the man I ran from, the man I screamed at to leave my room and never come back. He was supposed to stay gone. The fact that he didn’t—that he kept bleeding into my present through notes, photos, phone calls from his creepy friend—made my skin crawl and my stomach knot so tight I could barely eat.But curiosity is a cruel thing.It sits in your chest like a splinter you can’t pull out. Every time you think you’ve ignored it, it twists deeper.I spent the day after Sarah and Jonas left trying to pretend the world was normal. Night fell heavy and fast.The motel parking lot was empty except for the usual cars. Streetlights buzzed yellow. Rain had stopped, leaving everything slick and reflective. I

IVY The package was waiting for me when I opened the door that morning. It sat right on the welcome mat — small, plain brown cardboard, no sender, no address, just my name written in black marker. My stomach dropped the second I saw it. I knew what it was. Another envelope. Another photo. Another piece of my past shoved under my door like a knife. Cassian, or someone working for him, or Everett, or whoever was still playing this sick game — they weren’t done. They were never done. I stared at it for a long second, heart hammering. The air felt thicker. My hands shook when I reached down. I almost picked it up. Almost tore it open right there in the hallway. But something in me snapped. No. Not today. Not anymore. I left it lying there, untouched, like it was poison. I stepped over it, locked the door behind me, and walked away fast. My feet moved on autopilot toward the store. I told myself I wouldn’t let it ruin my day. I told myself I was stronger than this. I told myself Cas

IVY I felt naked. Not my body—though my tank top was thin and my shorts barely covered anything—but my soul. Noah had heard every filthy word Everett spat through the phone: how my breasts bounced when Cassian fucked me, how I moaned like a slut, how I came screaming “Daddy” while the camera rolled. And Noah didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t look at me like I was ruined. He just… stayed. Held the phone tighter. Told Everett to leave me alone in a voice so cold it scared me a little. But I was still burning with shame. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I kept my gaze on the floor, on the worn carpet, on the cracked edge of the coffee table—anywhere but his face. My legs were shaking again. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces in place. Noah noticed. Of course he noticed. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.” I didn’t want to. But I did. His eyes were steady. Not shocked. Not disgusted. Just… sad. And kind. And full of something I hadn’t felt i