Semua Bab Nineteen Days: Claimed by My Stepson: Bab 11 - Bab 20

AMELIA The apartment felt different the moment Victor’s flight status changed to “landed.” Every sound was sharper—the hum of the elevator, the distant traffic, the tick of the clock in the hallway. Ethan and I had spent the day pretending it was normal. Breakfast in bed. Slow kisses in the shower. Lunch on the terrace with our feet tangled under the table. But every time one of us checked the time, the air got thinner.By eight o’clock the sky outside was ink black and the city lights looked colder.We sat on the living room couch, not touching, glasses of red wine untouched on the coffee table. Ethan’s knee bounced. I kept twisting the hem of his T-shirt that I’d stolen to wear.“He’ll be here in less than an hour,” I said quietly.Ethan nodded once. “I know.”Silence stretched.I turned to him. “What do we do when he walks through that door?”He looked at me, eyes stormy. “We act normal. For now.”“For now?” My voice cracked.He reached over, took my hand, laced our fingers

AMELIA I woke up before the alarm, before the sun had even thought about rising. Victor’s arm was still slung over my waist, heavy and warm, his breath steady against my neck. I stared at the ceiling, feeling Ethan still inside me—dried now, sticky, a secret that burned between my thighs.I slipped out of bed like a ghost. Victor mumbled something sleepy and rolled over. I didn’t look back.Ethan’s door was unlocked. I pushed it open without knocking.He was awake, sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, sheet pooled around his hips. The lamp was on low. His eyes looked hollow, like he hadn’t slept at all.“You came back,” he said quietly.“I couldn’t stay there.”He held out his hand.I crossed the room, let him pull me onto the bed. I straddled his lap, robe falling open. His hands immediately went to my hips, thumbs pressing into the marks he’d left yesterday.“Did he fuck you?” he asked, voice low, rough.“Yes.”“Did you come?”“No.”He exhaled like he’d been holding

AMELIA Victor left for the office at eight sharp, same as always. Kissed my cheek, told me he loved me, promised dinner at that new place downtown. The door closed behind him and the apartment felt like it exhaled.I stood in the kitchen for a full minute, staring at the coffee mug he left behind, still warm.Then I walked to Ethan’s room.He was waiting, leaning against the doorframe in nothing but gray sweatpants, arms crossed, eyes already burning.“You’re shaking,” he said, voice low.“I’m terrified,” I answered honestly. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”He stepped forward, caught my face in both hands. “Then don’t.”We crashed together. Mouths hungry, teeth clashing, hands tearing at clothes. My dress hit the floor. His sweatpants followed. No underwear for either of us.He backed me against the wall, lifted one of my legs around his hip, and thrust inside in one hard stroke.I cried out, nails raking down his back.“Fuck—Ethan—”“Quiet,” he growled against my throat, but he w

I stood in the living room, staring at Victor's note on the counter like it might change if I glared hard enough. The words blurred through tears—lawyers, hotel, space. It felt like a punch every time I read it.Ethan came up behind me, his hands sliding onto my shoulders, thumbs pressing gentle circles into the knots there. His touch carried that mix of comfort and fire, the kind that made my breath hitch even now."Amelia," he said, voice low and rough, laced with that ache we'd both been carrying since the restaurant. "You can't keep rereading it. It's not going to say anything new."I turned, leaning into his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart against my cheek. "I know. But it hurts, Ethan. Seeing how much we broke him. He sounded so... defeated in that text. Like we stole something from him he can't get back."Ethan's arms wrapped around me tighter, his chin resting on my head. "We did. And it kills me too. He's my dad. The man who raised me, taught me everything. But I

AMELIA The apartment was dead quiet all day. No music from Ethan’s room. No clink of dishes. Just the hum of the fridge and the occasional car horn thirty floors below. I sat on the terrace with a cup of tea I didn’t drink, staring at the city like it might give me answers.Ethan found me there at six. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like he hadn’t slept either. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw tight.“He texted,” he said, voice flat but thick with something heavy underneath. “Said he’s coming over. Now.”My stomach dropped so fast I felt sick. “Now? Like… right now?”Ethan nodded once. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe less.”I stood up too quick, tea sloshing over the rim. “We’re not ready. I’m not ready.”He stepped closer, caught my wrists gently. “Neither am I. But we don’t get to pick the moment anymore.”His thumbs stroked the inside of my wrists, slow and steady, like he was trying to anchor us both. “We just… tell him the truth again. No sugar. No excuses.”I looked