Todos los capítulos de My Stepbrother's Secret Obsession : Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

Throwback: Three Years Ago Santiago Alvarez was gone, and with him, the only shield that had kept the volatile pieces of the family from colliding. Inés stood in the grand foyer, her black dress stark against her pale skin. Her eyes were rimmed with red, but she hadn't shed a tear in hours. She couldn't afford to. Her mother, Carmen, had retreated to her suite with a bottle of sedatives and a box of tissues, and Miguel had vanished into his father’s study and locked the door. He hadn't eaten, hadn't spoken, and the muffled sound of glass shattering occasionally echoed from behind the heavy door. "Martha, please make sure the caterers set up the coffee service in the east drawing room," Inés said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She turned to one of the junior maids. "And please, tell the drivers to keep the circling press away from the side entrance. We can’t have them harassing the guests." "Yes, Miss Inés," the maid whispered, looking at her with pity. "You

Throwback: Three Years Ago Carlos slammed the door of Maria’s apartment behind him with enough force to rattle the frames on the wall. The evening light filtering through the half-drawn curtains painted long golden stripes across the living room floor, but the atmosphere inside was anything but warm. Maria stood by the kitchen counter, barefoot in a loose white tank top and black shorts, a glass of red wine dangling from her fingers. She didn’t flinch at the sound. Instead, she lifted an eyebrow and took a slow sip, watching him like a cat that had already knocked the vase off the shelf and was waiting to see what he’d do about it. “You broke every single rule I gave you,” Carlos said, voice low and edged with steel. He crossed the room in three strides, stopping just short of her. “I trusted you with those images of Miguel and Inés. I told you explicitly to wait for my instructions. Instead, you ran straight to that trash gossip blog and handed them over." Maria set the glas

Throwback: Three Years Ago The air in the club smelled of stale smoke, expensive cologne, and the faint sweetness of spilled champagne from the floor outside.Uncle Clifford leaned back in his leather chair, fingers drumming on the armrest. His sharp eyes, framed by perfectly groomed silver hair, fixed on Carlos with a mix of concern and impatience. “Red hasn’t shown up for work in two weeks, Carlos. Not a single shift. The girls are starting to whisper, and Miguel... damn that man... he’s been coming in almost every night looking for her. He won’t touch anyone else. Not even Luz.”Carlos sat across from him, legs crossed, one ankle resting on his knee. His tailored black shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass but hadn’t taken a sip yet. “He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.”Uncle Clifford snorted, leaning forward. “It’s turning into an obsession, and that’s bad for business. Let's not forget he paid fifty

Throwback: Three Years Ago The changing room at P-Valley smelled of vanilla body spray, cheap perfume, and the faint metallic tang of hairspray. Bright vanity lights ringed the long mirrors, casting harsh glows on scattered makeup palettes, glitter-dusted counters, and half-open lockers. Bass from the main floor vibrated through the walls like a distant heartbeat, muffled laughter and catcalls leaking in whenever the door swung open. sequins and fishnets hung from hooks, and stilettos lined the floor. Red stood in front of her locker, zipping up a small duffel bag with sharp, irritated movements. Her signature red wig was still on for the night. She wore a simple black tank top and leggings, the glitter from her last set still clinging to her skin like stubborn stardust. Around her, a handful of other girls chatted and laughed while packing up after their shifts—adjusting bras, counting tips, swapping stories about difficult customers.Luz lounged on the bench across from her, long

Throwback: Three Years AgoThe morning after the gala felt like a slow-motion car crash. Miguel’s head throb with a rhythmic intensity as he sat behind his father’s desk staring at a stack of acquisition reports he hadn't actually read. The door opened, and Carlos stepped in. He looked infuriatingly composed, carrying two cups of black coffee. "You look like hell, Miguel," Carlos said, sliding a cup across the mahogany surface. "I heard you left the gala early last night." Miguel didn't touch the coffee. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, tracking Carlos’s movements with a predatory stillness. "I had a lot on my mind, Carlos. Unexpected things." "Is it about the board?" Carlos asked, taking a seat and crossing one leg over the other. "They’re satisfied for now, you don't have to worry about these things for now and just enjoy life. I saw Inés at the garden, she doesn't look quite good." Miguel’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name. He leaned back, his fingers drumming a rest