Todos os capítulos de SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

I kept telling myself the library would be my safe place.Quiet shelves, familiar smells of paper and dust, Jonas’s easy jokes over the reshelving cart. It was supposed to be the one corner of the world Cassian couldn’t reach. After the restroom, after the way my body had betrayed me yet again, I needed that illusion more than ever.But the illusion cracked the moment Jonas mentioned the man in the corner.Now every shadow on the third floor felt like eyes. Every creak of the old building sounded like footsteps. I caught myself glancing over my shoulder when I reached for high shelves, half-expecting Cassian’s hand to settle on my waist, half-terrified I wanted it to.I hated how conflicted I felt.Part of me was furious, violated, ready to call the police if he showed his face again. The other part—the shameful, secret part—remembered the heat of his mouth, the way he knew exactly how to unravel me, and ached for it like a drug.That night the library was unusually crowded for a week

Sarah’s wedding day arrived like a whirlwind of glitter and nerves, and I was right in the middle of it.I had spent way too long in front of my mirror that morning, second-guessing every choice. The dress was a deep emerald green silk that hugged my curves without being too obvious, with a subtle slit up one side and thin straps that showed just enough shoulder to feel elegant but not over-the-top. I’d paired it with simple gold heels and left my hair down in loose waves. When I looked at the final result, I had to admit I looked good—really good. The kind of good that made me feel a tiny spark of confidence I hadn’t felt in weeks.Jonas picked me up at six, looking sharp in a navy suit that actually fit him perfectly. He whistled when I opened the door.“Wow, Ivy. You’re going to break hearts tonight.”I laughed, cheeks warming. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice yourself.”He offered his arm like a perfect gentleman. “Ready to be my plus-one?”“Absolutely.”We had agreed to go toget

The drive home from the wedding was quiet at first, the kind of quiet that feels heavy rather than peaceful. Jonas kept glancing at me from the driver’s seat, the streetlights painting stripes across his worried face.“You sure you’re okay?” he finally asked, voice soft. “You looked… tense when you came back to the car. That guy—the stepfather—was he giving you trouble?”I stared out the window at the passing city lights, the emerald dress suddenly feeling too tight, too bright, like it belonged to someone else.“He’s just… complicated,” I said, barely above a whisper. “He paid off my mom’s debt. That’s all.”Jonas nodded slowly, hands tightening on the wheel.“Yeah, you mentioned that before. Sounds like it came with strings.”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the strings were wrapped so tightly around me now I could barely breathe.He pulled up outside my apartment building twenty minutes later, engine idling.“Text me when you’re inside,” he said. “And if you ever want to talk a

A week crawled by in a haze of exhaustion and denial. I barely slept, my nights a mess of tossing and turning, haunted by dreams I couldn’t shake. Every time I closed my eyes, Cassian was there—his hands on my skin, his voice in my ear, his body moving against mine in ways that left me waking up sweaty and ashamed. I’d stare at the ceiling until dawn, telling myself it was over, that he was gone, that I was safe. But the dark circles under my eyes told a different story.That morning, I dragged myself to the library for my shift, feeling like a zombie in jeans and a hoodie. The January cold had settled in deep, the kind that seeps into your bones and stays there. I clocked in, grabbed the reshelving cart, and headed to the third floor, hoping the quiet would numb my brain for a few hours.Jonas was already up there, sorting through a pile of returns. He looked up when I rolled in, and his easy smile faded the second he saw my face.“Whoa, Ivy. You look like you haven’t slept in a week

I woke up alone, the sheets twisted around my legs like they were trying to keep me in the dream a little longer. My body felt heavy, every muscle reminding me of last night with little twinges of soreness—the kind that made me bite my lip and smile despite myself. Between my legs, I was tender from being stretched and filled, my breasts still sensitive from his mouth and hands, and my inner thighs ached from where his fingers had gripped me tight enough to leave faint bruises. For a moment, I lay there thinking it had all been another one of those intense dreams that left me waking up flushed and reaching for the shower to wash away the guilt. But then I shifted, and the ache was too real, too delicious to be imagined.I was naked under the covers, my pajamas from last night scattered across the floor like they had been ripped off in a hurry—which they had. And there, on the nightstand, was the undeniable proof: a tray with a steaming mug of coffee, a plate of scrambled eggs wit